Making the People of God, #2

Making the People of God

The Holy Eucharist

 

2. Why “Do this?”

We modern Americans are so used to a scientific approach in all things that we are unable to appreciate the place in life that must be accorded to myth and story telling. Nothing can be left to the imagination. Everything must be presented as “fact.” There can be no shades of gray. All things must be seen as “correct” or “incorrect,” “right” or “wrong,” “good” or “bad,” “win” or “lose,” “either – or,” etc.

 

In fact, in the matters that deal with “facts” this is the only reasonable way to see things, so long as one remembers that sometimes additional information will make changes in so called “facts.” For example, recent information indicates that there is water in the form of ice on the Mars.

 

But where matters of the Spirit and of God are concerned, a different way of thinking is needed. Word-pictures, or metaphors, make it possible to talk about things that cannot be perceived directly through the five senses. This is especially true in religion, for here the subject is, by definition, beyond human comprehension. Yet it is here that metaphors or images are most helpful.

It is very important not to confuse the metaphor or image with reality, however. Spirituality is vast, and far beyond our comprehension. Images and metaphors give direction to thinking; but they only point in the direction of – they are not the reality itself. That is beyond our abilities. As St. Paul puts it, “Now we see only a bit, like an image in a mirror. . .” Even the sum total of images and metaphors is incomplete. God and spirituality expand infinitely as our comprehension grows.

 

All of this applies to the Eucharist.

 

When Jesus said “Do this” the command brought with it a whole load of images and metaphors. Part of the reason is, of course, the setting of the command in the first place. The first three Gospels make it clear that the command came as part of the Passover celebration that Jesus had with his disciples – the twelve and the others – on the night of the Passover meal. The first day of Passover, it is called today. (Because he uses a different set of images and metaphors, the author of the Fourth Gospel sets the meal on the day before the day of the Preparation for the Passover. This way Jesus dies on the Day of Preparation, at about the time the Passover Lambs were being slaughtered/sacrificed in the Temple. This brings with it an entirely – but equally important – set of images and metaphors.)

 

The Old Testament contains within it three major metaphors having to do with the relationship between God and his Chosen People. It is important to understand these three images, because they relate directly to the Eucharist as it is presented in the Gospels and in Saint Paul; and, of course, in the Church today and throughout the ages.

 

All three of the images or metaphors derive from the concept of the Creator God in the first chapter of Genesis. If this chapter is not understood in most of its implications, it is difficult to understand the rest of the Old Testament. At this point the most important things about the chapter is that God created everything that is – without any exception – out of nothing at all. There is no raw material’ to be used for the creation. All comes about simply and solely because God “thought” about it. (An image relating God to ourselves. A thought becomes a real’ thought when spoken: so God said “Let there be . . ., and there was . . .” It was brought into existence because the Spirit – power, or soul – of God acted.)

 

The clear implication of this kind of creation is that if God thought it up, if God made it real’, if God brought it into existence, then it belongs to God; God owns it; it is God’s possession; its continued existence depends on God; its meaning and purpose come from God; its relationship to the rest of creation is fixed by God.

 

The one exception to this is that humans are – in addition to the things that are common to all of creation – created in the image or metaphor of God. To a certain extent humans share in God’s very life and creativity, because humans can also bring a thought to life – even though humans must use a raw material’ from what God has provided. In Hebrew, this creativity is called “knowledge” as best we can translate it. As we know’ what the mind can conceive, so from the raw materials’ provided in creation, that which is “known” is given “reality.” We “procreate.” To limit “procreation” to the conceiving of children (as some would do) does great harm to the concept of God’s creation. (Depending on the context, the Hebrew word “know” or “knowledge” can also mean “sexual intercourse.”)

 

Humans share in the creativity of God. If this is to be a “real” sharing, then humans must also share in another aspect’ of God: humans must have a large element of “freedom.” Without freedom, the “procreativity” of humans becomes a sham, a deception, a lie, a fraud – a denial of the gracious goodness of the God who created it all.

 

However, this freedom does not exempt humans from their own “createdness.” Humans still belong to God; they are owned by God; they are God’s possession; they depend upon God; their meaning and purpose comes from God; their relationship with the rest of creation is established by God. Only in the freedom that comes from the image of God are humans any different from the rest of creation.

 

That this freedom is real – to the Hebrew mind – is proved because humans can deny any or all of their “createdness.” If they cannot, then they are not really free. But the fact that humans can – and indeed do – deny their createdness is in itself proof that they are free. The Hebrews tell this in the story of the Man and the Woman in the Garden: humans deny their createdness by defying their relationship with God; they then seize God’s place in their own lives. When that happens all of creation is disrupted. (St. Paul says the whole creation groans like a woman in labor pains.) This disruption is a rebellion against God; it is a denial of reality; it is, in fact, a denial of one’s own being and nature. It in fact, from the human side, separates humans from God.

 

Over the centuries this separation has been called sin.

 

Human sin, however, cannot change God; it can only change humans and their perceptions of God and God’s creation. The gracious goodness of God is unchanged by human sin. The Hebrews note this by having God protect the humans from exploitation and from each other by giving them clothing.

 

But far more important, God’s gracious goodness immediately begins a new creative burst. By making use of human freedom and procreativity, God’s gracious goodness begins the process of redemption. Not the restoration of the status quo ante, but a new creation, a creation that expands on the gracious goodness of God. Thus God reaches out to humans in love; and chooses a People who will understand – to a degree – God and their relationship to God; and, using their freedom, God will redeem humanity with his own love. This is the starting point of the Eucharist.

We are back in business.

After a 6 month absence, I think I have become organized enough to be able to commit myself to writing at least one per week.  But first, I wish to share with you what amounts to a book, called Making the People of God.”  In origin this was a series of weekly inserts into the Parish Program.  It was made available for other parishes, with a sugggested price of $100/month plus $0.25 per copy printed (even though I would make it available for less or even for free.)  It begins with Dom Gregory Dix’s great qoute from The Shape of the Liturgy, “Was ever such a command . . .”

The purpose of the writing is to give a different view of the history contained in the Bible, to show how we arrived at where we are now.  As I re-post these now, I will rewrite them somewhat — and look for comments.  The first one, however, will follow and will be unchanged. 

Blessings, Perren

 

Making the People of God

 

The Holy Eucharist

Was ever another command so obeyed? For century after century, spreading slowly to every continent and among every race on earth, this action has been done, in every conceivable human experience, for every conceivable human need from and before it to extreme old age and after it, from the pinnacles of earthly greatness to the refuge of fugitives in the caves and dens of the earth. Humans have found no better thing than this to do for kings at their crowning and for criminals going to the scaffold; for armies in triumph or for a bride and groom in a little country church; for the proclamation of a dogma or for a good crop of wheat; for the wisdom of the parliament of a mighty nation or for a sick old woman afraid to die; for a schoolboy sitting an examination or for Columbus setting out to discover America; for the famine of whole provinces or for the soul of a dead lover; in thankfulness because my father did not die of pneumonia; for a village headman much tempted to return to fetich because the yams had failed; because the Turk was at the gates of Vienna; for the repentance of Margaret; for the settlement of a strike; for a son for a barren woman; for Captain so-and-so, wounded and prisoner of war; while the lions roared in the nearby amphitheater; on the beach at Dunkirk; while the hiss of scythes in the thick June grass came faintly through the windows of the church; tremulously, by an old monk on the fiftieth anniversary of his vows; furtively, by an exiled bishop who had hewn timber all day in a prison camp near Murmansk; gorgeously, for the canonization of S. Joan of Arc – one could fill many pages with reasons why we have done this, and not tell a hundredth part of them. And best of all, week by week and month by month, on a hundred thousand successive Sundays, faithfully, unfailingly, across all the parishes of christendom, the pastors have done this just to make the plebs sancta Dei – the holy common people of God.” The Shape of the Liturgy, Dom Gregory Dix. Page 744, fourth impression 1949As one looks backward through the 2000 year history of christianity, there are two things which strike the mind.

First, that there in fact should be a christianity at all. That a young Jewish man could teach of the kingdom of God, be found guilty on a political charge, be publicly executed, have his small band of associates scattered, and still leave behind him a faith structure that endures to this present moment is in deed a miracle. Yet, unlike the others who thought they had a messianic calling to redeem Israel from the hated enemy, at his death those who surrounded Jesus did not disband. Disheartened, disoriented and discouraged, they saw their dead leader alive. The fact of the Resurrection transformed this motley group into leaders who began a process that has profoundly affected the course of human history. That process has enriched the lived of countless multitudes. That we have just concluded – hopefully – a joint effort of a number of nations in which another nation was not permitted to persecute and destroy another group, is a reflection of the impact of the Resurrection. From the Resurrection flows, ultimately, the love of God, who has created all persons equal. It is not just a “religious” truth that one talks about but does not expect to see in fact: it has become of the warp and woof of our civilization. (Even those who find it amazing that one could conceive of using bombs to create peace have to admit that at least the ultimate goal flows from the love of God.) From the cross flows the beginnings of the real New Age. All humans can be freed from those demons that plague their lives. Those societal mores, those judgmental hypocrites, those breakers of spirit, those destroyers of creativity, those forces of conformity,, and the rest of them: have been defeated by the power of the Cross and Resurrection of Jesus. Humans are entitled to freedom and love and respect.

The Resurrection ensures the victory of God, the love of humanity.

Equally amazing is the nature of those who brought this victory to our world. Starting with fisher-folk and some unattached women, no one of any correct’ background – indeed, even Jesus himself comes from the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. No great victor such as Alexander the Great or William the Conqueror made others conform to the message of the Loving Creator-God. All were asked to use their own skills and abilities to look at the history of God and see for themselves: they were to be partners with God. Raised up by God, they are invited – indeed, welcomed – into a fellowship of love and family where “force is not of God.” At the very heart of the Resurrection experience (as Luke shows it on the road to Emmaus) is the eucharistic action. So simple, utterly simple. Take, bless, break and give bread; take, bless and give a cup of wine: thus did this young Jewish man with his friends on the night before his death. He told them that this was to be done for the anamnesis of him – for his recalling. And so it has been from the very beginning: the Eucharist.

Dom Gregory writes another paragraph that fits in here:

“To those who know a little of Christian history probably the most moving of all the reflections it brings is not the thought of the great events and the well-remembered saints, but of those innumerable millions of entirely obscure faithful men and women, every one with his or her own individual hopes and fears and joys and sorrows and loves – and sins and temptations and prayers – once every whit as vivid and alive as mine are now. They have left no slightest trace in this world, not even a name, but have passed to God utterly forgotten by humans. Yet each of them once believed and prayed as I believe and pray, and found it hard and grew slack and sinned and repented and fell again. Each of them worshipped at the eucharist, and found their thoughts wandering and tried again, and felt heavy and unresponsive and yet knew – just as really and pathetically as I do these things. There is a little ill-spelled rustic epitaph of the fourth century from Asia Minor: – “Here sleeps the blessed Chione, who has found Jerusalem for she prayed much.” Not another word is known of Chione, some peasant woman who lived in that vanished world of Christian Anatolia. But how lovely if all that should survive after sixteen centuries were that one had prayed much, so that the neighbors who saw all one’s life were sure one must have found Jerusalem! What did the Sunday Eucharist in her village church every week for a life-time mean to the blessed Chione – and to the millions like her then, and every year since? The sheer stupendous quantity of the love of God which this ever repeated action [eucharist] has drawn from the obscure Christian multitudes through the centuries is in itself an overwhelming thought. (All that going with one to the altar each morning!) The Shape of the Liturgy, Dom Gregory Dix. Page 745, fourth impression 1949It is this mystery that has brought us here to our parish church. It is this mystery which we shall leave as our heritage to those who follow us. It is this mystery that is the subject of this Eastertide series of The Skeptic for this spring. I originally prepared this for another congregation. I hope you will enjoy it and find that it feeds your faith.

E. Perren Hayes