The Anglican Scotist on the Eucharist

In his comment to my post below and in a new post on his blog, the Anglican Scotist takes issue with my suggestion that those representing the national church and those clergy with progressive political views remember that demands for justice in church flow best from acknowledging God’s call to humanity in light of what God has done for us through Jesus Christ.

He states:

Granted, loosey goosey lefty preachers might preach social justice and
be too dull to notice the sacramental context in which they preach is
soaked in political references, but there is also a loosey goosey
mentality perversely abstracting the Eucharist from the political, as
if real labor and real money and real paychecks and real exchanges were
not actually involved and actually sanctified, as if it were all just
symbolic or even pretend.

I can’t tell if he’s directly accusing me of holding the second “a loosey goosey
mentality [that] perversely abstract[s] the Eucharist from the political” or not… If he is, it’s a caricature and not an accurate representation of what I said or believe. I agree that there are some who have tried to make a hard separation between the religious and the political and that doesn’t make sense to me either. You can’t pray the Psalms and believe that “YHWH is king” has no political implications.

However, let me reiterate to clarify my position to the Scotist. The Eucharist is a powerful multivalent symbol. The Eucharist is misunderstood whenever we attempt to reduce its complexity.  Our historic liturgy and architecture is designed to highlight these multivalent elements and the move in recent years to change things has resulted in just such a reduction. That is, an east-wall altar speaks of a table, a sacrificial altar, and a tomb. The bread, wine, and water speak of simple family meals, the fruits of the earth,and—yes—the products of human labor. The liturgical words speak of covenant relationships, political injustice, the triumph of love, and a God who choose to permeate human life through multiple modes of presence and incarnation. And these items that I have pointed out just barely scratch the surface…

I would not claim that the Eucharist is “simply religious,” abstracted from the political. That’s not how I understand “religious”—it can never be “simply” anything because it’s fundamentally not simple.

In a similar fashion, I would hope that the Scotist would shy away from reducing the Eucharist to the purely economic or even political and miss the full splendor of its spectrum of meanings.

Liturgy is Not Enough

As my readers know, I love the liturgy a great deal. I believe, in fact, that the liturgical cycle as it came to fruition by the end of the early medieval period is the greatest tool for Christian formation that the Western Church has ever produced. Much of the great writings of the medieval monks, mystics, and others could have only been produced in relationship to this cycle. It is a great and powerful engine for the formation of disciples.

But it is an engine that has largely gone untuned.

At the time of its creation, it was only accessible to a small number—namely those who lived within intentional liturgical communities, had the capacity to become fluent in a language other than their mother tongue, and had the temperament to turn their wonder, creativity, and intellect to its majesties rather than to other arenas.

At the time of the Reformation, the English Church was the only dissenting group that preserved the key elements of the cycle—the Mass and the Office—but even these were severely pared back, breaking, obscuring, and eliminating many of the connections that had bound the cycle into a harmonious whole.

For most of its history, the Episcopal Church has been an either/or body: either Office or Mass. With the coming of the ‘79 BCP and Eucharist becoming the normative Sunday celebration, two hundred years of Office supremacy came to an end—but balance has yet to be achieved. Too, the ‘79 book has recovered more of the classical links with its inclusion of seasonal material than any other BCP with the possible exception of the failed English ‘28 text.

And yet the discipling inherent in, promised by, the liturgy has not appeared.

And it will not appear.

The experience of the liturgy is not enough.

Certainly there will be some who will start to see and make connections. Who will discover a hunger and turn to earlier and other sources to learn of the connections, to recover or recapture the mystery and the power they feel near its surface—but this is not “most”. Nor necessarily even “many”.

If the liturgy were enough, the discipling would be happening.
If it were enough, there would not be people in our churches who have stood, sat, and knelt through decades of liturgies and not been formed by them. If it were enough, there would not be clergy in our churches who have
stood, sat, and knelt through decades of liturgies and not been formed
by them.

The liturgy is not enough. And yet it is an engine of great power. It does not choose to sit idle; we allow it to do so.

What the liturgy needs from us are three things:

1. We must be open to it. This is the first and greatest step. We must open our hearts to its leading in confidence that the Holy Spirit speaks through its ways and its means.
   
2. We must recognize the treasure that we have before us. The liturgy is many things. It is a path, a discipline, a place where aesthetics, intellect, the affections and emotions are all engaged. We must recognize its value and allow it to have its own authority over us. That is, we must live in it before presuming to change it. And I don’t mean existing alongside of it—I mean living in it. Opening ourselves to it and following where it leads. Because this isn’t really about the liturgy. The liturgy is a path and discipline that leads us into the mind of Christ. And that’s what this is really about.
   
3. We must share its riches. Specifically, this means we must testify to its power and capability to transform, and we must educate. The liturgy is not self-evident. You must be open to it—but it also must be opened to you. Preeminently, this means communicating that the liturgy is an embodiment of essential Christian theology. We don’t do a solemn high mass or evensong just because we like it (though we do, of course…) but because of what it communicates about who and what God is and who we are in light of that reality. Liturgy is theology made kinetic and aesthetic. Even when we succeed in our first two tasks, this is where we have failed in the past and are continuing to fail today. The Episcopal Church is moving towards a new prayer book; protesting at its arrival is too little, too late. If we hope to see a prayer book whose liturgies stand in continuity with our Anglican, our catholic, our Benedictine roots, then we need to start learning, talking, and teaching now while it is yet on the horizon and not yet here at our doorsteps.  

All of us who love the liturgy must be intentional about these things if we wish it to exercise even a quarter of its full power within us and within our communities. Through the centuries, I believe the Holy Spirit has crafted this great work as a faithful and true means of guiding humanity into the mysteries of God. But we have to be faithful and true to it as well.

Musing on Sacraments and Saints

Here’s a thought I’ve been rolling around a bit recently: The higher your sacramental theology, the more necessary it becomes that you have a robust theology of the saints.

That is, if we understand Baptism as a true joining of the self into the reality of God through Jesus, then we must (or perhaps “should”?) take more seriously our mystical connection with our fellow baptized. If we understand Eucharist as the share of the one bread that joins us in the one Body (as 1 Cor speaks about it) then—again—our relation to the “communion of the Saints” is that much more important. In essence, we must posit a stronger eschatological bond between the members of the Body.

But, a thoughtful evangelical student pushed me on this when I mentioned it in a class discussion of the saints: does this mean that a sacramentally higher church has a “better” understanding of Christian community than a sacramentally lower church? Furthermore, does it necessarily have a better embodiment of Christian community?

My answer was that it is not necessarily better—it is just different. I think it can be said that a higher sacramental theology requires a less individualistic understanding of spirituality and salvation—but does it play out this way in reality? And in how we embody our theologies communally?

Eucharistic Quiz

Eucharistic theology created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as OrthodoxYou are Orthodox, worshiping the mystery of the Holy Trinity in the great liturgy whereby Jesus is present through the Spirit in a real yet mysterious way, a meal that is also a sacrifice. Orthodox 100% Catholic 81% Luther 50% Calvin 38% Zwingli 25% Unitarian 0%

H/t Dean Knisely

I doubt these results come as a surprise to most who know me. Conflicts between my own understanding of the Eucharist, how I read the first generation of Lutheran Reformers, and the theology of the contemporary Lutheran church were my first signs that I needed to reconsider whether God was calling me to be a Lutheran pastor.

Confessions

I had a “Duh–obvious” moment this morning–you know, one of those moments where something that you’ve always known bubbles up in a new and interesting way and makes a bunch of connections that you’ve never quite seen before…

My recent thinking about the sacraments–especially Baptism and Eucharist–has been moving very much to their communal nature and the importance of the covenant community both signified and enacted through these rites. What struck me this morning is how much the Confiteor participates in these same ways of ritual sense-making in ways that the more usual Anglican forms of general confession don’t.

For those unfamiliar with the Confiteor, it is a form of general confession that within the old (pre-Vatican II) liturgical paradigm would be used at least three times a day: at Prime, at the prayers at the foot of the altar prior to Mass, and at Compline.

My first point is that in its normative form, it’s a conversation between the principal (priest, abbot, or other) and the congregation that goes beyond the basic dialogue format found in most modern confessions. That is, it establishes communal patterns up front.

Even more than that, though, the text is redolent with community. It functions by naming elements of the community, bringing them to the attention of those gathered, reminding them of the constitution of the assembly that includes the invisible as strongly as the visible. Here’s the text:

First, the person of the greatest dignity (technically known as the Foremost or Prelate, ie. not a Bishop only, but in a Choir of layfolk any Priest who happens to be present, or in a Choir of Priests, the Superior, etc.) says the Confiteor, thus:

I confess to Almighty God, to Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, * to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, brethren, * that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, (he strikes his breast thrice, saying through my fault, through my own fault, through my own most grievous fault. * Therefore I beseech Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, * the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and you brethren, * to pray for me to the Lord our God.

And the choir answers with the Absolution, thus:
Almighty God have mercy upon thee, forgive thee thy sins, and bring thee to everlasting life.

To which the Foremost responds:
R. Amen.

After which the Choir says the Confiteor, thus:

I confess to Almighty God, to Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, * to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to thee, Father * that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, (they strike their breasts thrice, saying through my fault, through my own fault, through my own most grievous fault. * Therefore I beseech Blessed Mary Ever-Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, * the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and thee, Father, * to pray for me to the Lord our God.

And the Foremost then says the Absolution, thus:
Almighty God have mercy upon you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to everlasting life.
R. Amen

And then he signs himself with the holy Sign (as does the Choir) as he says:
The Almighty and merciful Lord grant us pardon, † absolution, and remission of our sins.
R. Amen.

In the full form, then, the sequence of the communion of the saints all the way from the Trinity, the angels, down to the local community is not invoked once but four separate times. In doping so, the liturgy grounds our action—here our sinful action—in terms of the whole. In what we have done, we have reflected badly upon all, not just on ourselves. However, then we affirm the care, concern—mercy, really—and intercession of the whole on behalf of the individual.

Compare now the Anglican version, first in the classical form:

 

DEARLY beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry
places to acknowledge and confess our manifold sins and wickedness; and that we
should not dissemble nor cloke them before the face of Almighty God our heavenly
Father; but confess them with an humble, lowly, penitent, and obedient heart; to
the end that we may obtain forgiveness of the same, by his infinite goodness and
mercy. And although we ought at all times humbly to acknowledge our sins before
God; yet ought we most chiefly so to do, when we assemble and meet together to
render thanks for the great benefits that we have received at his hands, to set
forth his most worthy praise, to hear his most holy Word, and to ask those
things which are requisite and necessary, as well for the body as the soul.
Wherefore I pray and beseech you, as many as are here present, to accompany me
with a pure heart and humble voice unto the throne of the heavenly grace, saying
after me:

A general Confession to be said of the whole Congregation
after the Minister, all kneeling.

ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father, We have erred and
strayed from thy ways like lost sheep, We have followed too much the devices and
desires of our own hearts, We have offended against thy holy laws, We have left
undone those things which we ought to have done, And we have done those things
which we ought not to have done, And there is no health in us: But thou, O Lord,
have mercy upon us miserable offenders; Spare thou them, O God, which confess
their faults, Restore thou them that are penitent, According to thy promises
declared unto mankind in Christ Jesu our Lord: And grant, O most merciful
Father, for his sake, That we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober
life, To the glory of thy holy Name.
Amen.

The Absolution or Remission of sins to be pronounced by the
Priest alone, standing: the people still kneeling.

ALMIGHTY God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who
desireth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he may turn from his
wickedness and live; and hath given power and commandment to his Ministers, to
declare and pronounce to his people, being penitent, the Absolution and
Remission of their sins: He pardoneth and absolveth all them that truly repent
and unfeignedly believe his holy Gospel. Wherefore let us beseech him to grant
us true repentance and his Holy Spirit, that those things may please him which
we do at this present, and that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and
holy; so that at the last we may come to his eternal joy; through Jesus Christ
our Lord.

 

And now a current form:

The Deacon or Celebrant says: Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor.

Silence may be kept.

Minister and People: Most merciful God,we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed,by what we have done,and by what we have left undone.We have not loved you with our whole heart;we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,have mercy on us and forgive us;that we may delight in your will,and walk in your ways,to the glory of your Name. Amen.

The Bishop, when present, or the Priest, stands and says
Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in eternal life. Amen.

While the texts are in the first person plural—”we”—it could just as easily be “I” with no change of meaning or theology… In contrast with the Confiteor, these come across as very, well, individualistic. It’s me and Jesus and while there might be a bunch of other people kneeling around, it’s still pretty much just me and Jesus…

I’ll have to chew on this a bit more to draw out the implications. My initial thought, however, is that the Confiteor seems to do a much better job of placing action, repentance, and forgiveness in view of the whole gathered covenant community, integrating it all much better in the context of the Body of Christ.

(Sources: Confiteor, 1662 MP Confession, and ‘79 Eucharistic Confession.)

Quick Reminder

“When Jesus bids a man to come, he bids him to come and die…”
-Deitrich Bonhoeffer, martyr

More later…

CWOB Continues at the Cafe

My latest post on CWOB is up at the Episcopal Cafe.

It seems like all I’m posting over there recently is material on CWOB… That certainly wasn’t my original intent. I was brought on to write primarily “spirituality” stuff like my posts on the canticles and psalms and on the place of liturgy in the Anglican life.

After a series of comments on a post there I had conceived a three post series that turned into four–this current item is the next to last. So, one more post then I’m moving on to other topics…

CWOB at the Episcopal Cafe

My next piece on Communion Without Baptism is up at the Cafe. I doubt there wil be many surprises there for those who have been following the current discussions.

Yet More on CWOB

To recap briefly, we’ve been discussing Communion Without Baptism quite a bit lately. One of the main engines of debate has been the Anglican Scotist’s attempts to connect CWOB with universal salvation and to argue that if we take our beliefs about the power of God to their logical conclusion the theological reasons for CWOB will become self-evident. It’s an intriguing argument but not one that wins me over–universal salvation being the first major stumbling block.

My main objection to the argument of the Scotist is that it comes in the form of syllogisms. While I do recognize the need for such things and acknowledge their proper place in theological reflection, logical syllogisms in their use of absolutes and extremes tend to wander away from the basic incarnate character of the life of faith. To my mind, they too easily enter the realm of speculation divorced from discipleship.And here, of course, I see one of the classic divisions between the Scholastic and the monastic.

Both Caelius and *Christopher have written great reflections that return the discussion from questions of universality and omnipotence to questions of daily Christian practice. *Christopher’s piece engages the Scotist’s invocation of the Eschaton and makes a distinction between the regular and extraordinary means of grace, paying special attention to their roles in communities of practice. Caelius’s piece touches on a range of issues, moving from an interesting discussion of the Eucharistic meal as a plunder-dividing party to a thoughtful reflection on exclusion and intimacy. If you haven’t already read them, I commend them to you highly.

More on CWOB

A new entry on the current CWOB (Communion Without Baptism) discussion so ably chronicled by bls (plus updated addenda of course…) has appeared this morning at the Episcopal Cafe.

Dr. Deirdre Good from GTS has posted a most thought-provoking work on hospitality. This is, of course, a virtue constantly emphasized in Benedict’s Rule that reminds us that love of neighbor is only realized when enacted–especially as we greet Christ in the person of the stranger. In this reflection, Dr. Good presents the open table as a central practice of Christian hospitality.

I like her reflection–but I’m not ultimately convinced. The Eucharist is not just a meal–it is a ritual meal. Christians believe that there is something categorically different between eating this bread and drinking this wine and eating other bread, drinking other wine. A non-Christian would presumably not agree. As Anglicans we believe that Christ is truly present in this meal in a way not found in others. I’m feeling something around this that I can’t articulate with the precision I’d like yet–but it’s something like this: If we believe that Christ is really present do we take the presence of divinity so lightly? So much so that we do not even warn those who are about to take it into their own bodies? Is this a domestication of divinity–an assumption of safety–that attempts to collapse an encounter with the Wholly Other?