Luke puts bookends on his gospel. There is both a prologue and an afterword to his gospel that are meant to refer us to the source and summit of our worship: Jesus Christ fully present in the Eucharist. The front bookend is the story of the Nativity, where Luke bothers to give us a very significant detail:
And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger. (Luke 2:7)
Why does Luke pause to tell us Jesus was laid in a manger? Not because he was anticipating the needs of millions of greeting card manufacturers centuries hence and their requirements for a picturesque Christmas scene. No, the reason he mentions this detail is because of what a manger is: it is feed box—a grain container. And not just any grain container. This particular feed box is located in “Bethlehem”, which means “House of Bread”. In other words, Luke is reminding us that Jesus is the Bread of Life: the Eucharist and sees in these circumstance of Jesus’ birth a prophetic foreshadowing of the deepest truth about us.
Similarly, in the bookend at the end of his gospel, Luke likewise uses language that is pregnant with significance for the Eucharistic-minded ancient Christ Church. After Jesus meet the dejected disciples on the Emmaus Road he leads them in the very first Christian Bible Study, explaining to them that the message of Moses and the Prophets is that the Son of Man had to suffer and enter into his glory. (I might note here that, as an Evangelical, I would have supposed that this would be the moment that the disciples would experience the thunderbolt epiphany and realize what was going on.) However, the disciples remain clueless even after this divinely led walk through the Bible. So they invite the Risen Christ to stay with them, still not realizing who he is. He agrees, setting the scene for this moment:
When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed, and broke it, and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized him. (Luke 24:30-31)
It is in the Eucharistic gesture—the breaking of the bread—that the disciples finally have their eyes opened and see him for who he truly is. Not surprisingly then, Luke (and the early Church) see the Eucharist at the heart of their worship. That is why Luke tells us:
And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. (Acts 2:42)
One of the earliest titles given to the Eucharistic banquet is “the breaking of bread”. It is such an unobtrusive title that many non-eucharistic Christians never notice it when they read Acts 2. “The breaking of bread and the prayers” refers not to little informal holy potlucks by believers who just like to get together to share lunch but to the liturgy of the Eucharist. To be sure, the Church met in informal surroundings like the houses of believers (since there were no church buildings back then) but it was always liturgical. This makes sense really, since liturgy was the only form of communal prayer known to the Jews of antiquity. And liturgy is not a thing imposed on freedom-loving “simple Christians” by hierarchs, bureaucrats and priestcraft. It is a thing that springs up naturally (and supernaturally) from the Jewish soil of the Church, since Judaism is itself a rich liturgical tradition. That is why the word “liturgy” means “the work of the people.” Worship is the work of the people and Jesus—the Bread of Life who was broken for our sake—is the object of our worship, the sacrifice we offer and the food we receive from God.
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The early Christians celebrated the Eucharist in the “breaking of the bread” just as Christ did at the Last Supper. That is why it is so distrurbing to see the “scribes and Pharisees” in the Vatican trying to roll back Vatican II and go back to communion on the tounge. Can you imagine Christ at the Last Supper telling Peter to kneel down and stick out his tounge.
Well put, Mark. I especially like the reminder of the liturgy as “work”—prayer at all times is hard work, at least for me. Puts St. Paul’s comments that those who don’t work should not eat in a different light.
Jim, reception of Communion on the tongue is still the norm in the Latin Rite, though reception in the hand is permitted. As far as I know (and I’m happy to be corrected), reception on the tongue is the norm in almost all of the Apostolic Churches (ie. Greek Orthodox, Maronite, etc). That the tradition became common from an early age across Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and Asia would, in my opinion, make the desire to maintain the tradition more than a matter of the work of “scribes and Pharisees.”
That said, reception in the hand is allowed, and until the Church forbids one of the options presented to us, it behooves us to focus on Who we receive rather than on how others receive.
JIM: The scribes and pharisees, as you put it, don’t disturb me because I love to show my reverence for the Eucharist by kneeling. I don’t feel as reverent receiving the host in my hand. The apostles were Jesus’ priests. Remember the lady in the crowd who wanted to be healed only dared touch the hem of his (the Eucharist’s) garment.
Here is what I believe Christianity is all about. It was written by a very young (24) woman named Sarah Rachel Thomson, an Alabaman by birth. Her words are light. At the bottom is a link to her blog. Happy reading, folks!
Tom Degan
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Monday, February 8, 2010
thinking day
When I lost my job almost exactly one year ago, I immediately began looking for work both in Huntsville, Alabama and in Memphis, Tennessee. I came in contact with the Church Health Center in Memphis and signed on to do some volunteer work. I met with directors and editors and took home faith-related books to review. Then I found a job in retail, then a few months later I landed the job I have now. In between I was juggling being a newly married woman and living on my salary alone for the two of us. I had, to say the least, a lot to figure out.
The books lay neglected in my bookshelves, forgotten and dusty. A few days ago I received an e-mail asking me to bring the books back if I was not going to review them. I mentally calculated the months I had these books in my possession, and then the months of empty promises of reviews I had committed.
This weekend I opened the first of three books I took home last year, called “Making Poverty Personal” by Ash Barker. I diligently took notes, read carefully, and then found myself skimming through the last third of the book. I tried to explain what lacked in the book to Stephen, and I couldn’t. The message was clear, and good. Everything was oriented in scripture. But…I don’t know. I didn’t jump up and run out the door to DO something.
Now, because I am a Thomson and my father’s child, I feel I MUST complete this task. But I don’t know where to begin. Perhaps I was the wrong reader for this book. I referenced a number of my own books, from the desert abbas to Joachim Jeremias. As the day dragged on, I found other things to occupy my time, rather than writing. The challenge is, how do I make this message and call relevant, interesting, and motivational?
I think for me, this task is less about saying whether a book is good or not and more about providing some sort of hope. Stephen and I live below the poverty line, intentionally, but we are not poor in spirit, and we have the kind of life that is full and happy. But many are not so fortunate. The poor and impoverished in spirit have been a central theme in Christian teachings since the ministry of Jesus, yet it is so easily ignored. We tend to think as Americans that poverty exists in slums in third world countries, or on commercials advertising sponsorship for African children.
As we see our own American economy decline, and as it is sure to only get worse in the coming years, more Americans that never thought about “being poor” are now dealing with the very realities that come with loss of income. Those who exist solely in their belongings have identity crises because their self-worth cannot be tied to what they own. What will their friends think? What will their children, their parents say? Poverty, as it seems, is not just a bank account—it is indeed a state of mind.
For those who are wrapped up in what they own, in the “right” lifestyle, in the “right” stuff, Jesus’ message may fall a little flat. The attitude is off. They are self-suffering, martyrs to their own god of money. But for the downtrodden, the working man and woman, the child on free lunch, the mother working two and three jobs to pay bills, Jesus’ message is a ray of light and hope. A day of judgment will come. God is both mighty and merciful, and He is not blind to the injustice that happens in this country and around the world. Greed will be punished. Those who take so others may not have will be judged on the day of reckoning. Jesus came with a sword to judge the quick and the dead.
So where are we in all of this? What is, in fact, our call?
We look after the least of these. Whatever our talent, we use that to the greater glory of God’s will. We feed people, we clothe them, we house them, we educate their children with the best resources. We elect officials who will care for those who have no voice. We will sacrifice so that all of God’s children can live a life of peace, happiness, and light. We will look around us, at the things we do not need, at the wealth we have amassed, and we will strive for something Higher, Greater, more heavenly. We will give our riches to the poor, and we will, yes, we will, take up that cross and march to Higher Ground.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.
http://www.liedownandsleep.blogspot.com
Sarah Rachel Thomson
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