Proper 20, Daily Office Year 1
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Chapel of the Apostles
Sewanee, Tennessee
2 Kings 5:19-27
1 Cor 5:1-8
Lord David Hope, former Archbishop of York and yours truly
outside of Halifax Parish Church, June 2009.
It was nearing the end of my time on placement from The College of the Resurrection at Halifax Parish Church in West Yorkshire. The Parish was celebrating its patronal feast day, that of Saint John the Baptist. It was a truly festive occasion, complete with a rare High mass set of vestments on loan from the Community of the Resurrection. Our guest preacher that evening was Lord David Hope, the former Archbishop of York and Primate of England. Following the peace, the Vicar invited me to stand next to him at the altar before the canon of the mass was to begin. All ready the nerves were starting to kick in. After the fraction and the clergy received the holy sacrament, Hilary—the vicar—handed a chalice of wine to the Archbishop and then turned to me and handed me the patten full of bread! Now, I had several images racing in my head of a certain liturgics professor here having a mild stroke at this proposition, but I had to pull it together as the choir was in place and ready to receive. Perhaps I was safe being a continent away!
Out came the hands. So I did what I knew, I carefully took the wafer, made the sign of the cross and said, “the body of Christ, the bread of heaven.” At that point, I had no earthly idea what Common Worship said about any of this, nor was I about to embarrass the vicar by asking Lord David his opinion on the matter. Vicars in the Church of England have absolute, legal authority over their parishes. So off I went. One by one, I distributed the bread in the most reverent manner possible. What struck me the most as I walked back and forth behind the altar rail was the image of one broken human being handing over the bread of wholeness to another. The eyes, their eyes were very telling. So much of the pain of life, the joy of life, and the hope for Christ was all bound together in their eyes. It was palpable. During my hour-long bus ride back to Mirfield, I reflected on what had happened in the liturgy. This bread, this bread of sincerity and truth was in our hands so that it could feed our souls. Christ’s body taken, blessed, broken, and given to the world was somehow making me whole, giving me life to pursue the truth. I, like most seminarians I’m sure, daydream of the time when as a celebrate at the table, I can proclaim to the people, “Alleluia, Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us.” And now I find myself in the very midst of unpacking those words. To proclaim those words is to know deeply what Paul is describing in today’s epistle.
The unleavened bread, rises up, just as Our Lord rose from the tomb. We are bound to strip away the old leaven, the leaven of sin that attempts to destroy our lives. Just as the Corinthians read this exhortation from Paul, we hear this today as the invitation to strive for the narrow door, to remove from ourselves those things which pervert the Gospel and obscure the truth. That way, we can say with all sincerity and truth, "it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me" (Gal 2:20).
The bread of life was given for freedom to live a life of conversion as God’s beloved people. Disorder, chaos, and sickness are the results of sin. Wholeness and health are results of the truth. Hear what the first letter of John says, “for if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us, but if we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness”(1 John 1: 8-9).
So for today, seek the banquet of the lamb, the great festival of festivals, where we all have a welcomed seat ready for us. But know this, there is no warning label attached to the Christian life, your pursuit of the truth may be dangerous, but ultimately the heavenly joy will shine down on your path as you rise up to meet Our Lord upon the road. Therefore let us keep the feast. Amen.
