A Maundy Thursday Meditation
When
I was a newly minted priest in the Diocese of Chicago, William Wiedrich was the
suffragan bishop. Bishop Wiedrich was known as a great storyteller. I am particularly fond of a story he told of a church he once served as rector that seems to
have had a problem with static electricity. This problem was only exacerbated
when they installed a new carpet in the sanctuary. The combination of dry air
and the new carpet built up a considerable electrical charge. The first Sunday
after the new carpet was installed, Father Wiedrich prepared to
distribute the body of Christ. It happened that the first person at the altar
rail was his senior warden, kneeling reverently with his mouth open to receive
the sacrament. Father Wiedrich said, “The Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven.”
But, as he placed the wafer on the tongue of his warden, there was such an
electric discharge that it knocked the warden on his backside. The static
electricity became such a problem that Wiedrich enlisted an acolyte to stay
near him so he could touch the acolyte to take the shock rather than the people
at the rail. The acolytes, in turn, began to draw straws to see who would have
to serve as the rector’s human electrical ground. At least at that church,
people began to understand that celebrating the Lord’s Supper is serious
business and not altogether safe.
Apparently,
the church at Corinth had forgotten that. Of course, the Corinthian church is
notorious for being dysfunctional. There were divisions of several kinds. Some
of its members were so sure of their superior spiritual prowess that they had
pretty much left everyone else behind, including Paul. Some prided themselves
on their sophistication and looked down on those they considered
unsophisticated in their faith. Others were scandalized by those who did not
see things their way. The church was divided over which leader of the larger
Christian movement was most worthy to be associated with. There was sexual
misconduct and confusion. There were class prejudices that divided the church
when they gathered for the Lord’s Supper. In other words, it was pretty much
church as usual.
In
1 Corinthians, Paul, rather sternly, reminds them–and reminds us–that church as
usual is not the same as being the body of Christ. He warns us against being
content with anything less than living together as the body of Christ. He does
that by reminding us of the Lord’s Supper and its seriousness. It is serious
business because it is where the body of Christ ‘happens’. In the mystery of the
Eucharist we encounter, tangibly, the presence of Christ in the Bread and Wine.
And in that same mystery, we who have been baptized into the body of Christ are
re-membered again and again as we regather in communion at the Communion Table.
It is shocking and not altogether safe because what happens is partly
determined by the quality of our common life. The quality of our encounter with
the Body of Christ in the Eucharist
is inseparable from
the quality of our common life and the way we engage one another as the body of Christ in our life together and in the world. Paul
even warns that if our life together does not rhyme with his, it is possible to
receive Jesus in an unworthy manner. We can eat and drink judgement to
ourselves. That is shocking.
Jesus
said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
That is part of the command the we receive on Maundy Thursday. Jesus freely
offers himself to us, nourishing, forgiving, healing, and transforming. But,
essential to that remembrance is obeying the other command which he enacts in
the footwashing. "So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet,
you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that
you also should do as I have done to you." Then he lays down the fundamental
mandatum, “I give you a new
commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also
should love one another.” They are all of a piece.
Discerning
the body means we recognize Jesus in our midst and in each other. So we submit
ourselves to one another in love, giving ourselves to one another and receiving
one another, just as Jesus gives himself to us and we receive him in the Eucharist.
Discerning the body means every Eucharist is a challenge to again take up the cross
and follow Jesus in his Passion; to live as he lived, to love as he loved, to
serve as he served, to be people of the basin and towel. Discerning the body
means recognizing that the Lord’s Supper, the self-denying disciplines of love,
and life in community are inseparable. Am I prepared to
receive Jesus in the Bread and Wine if I am not prepared to receive him in the
neighbor who comes to Table with me? Am I prepared to receive Jesus offered
in the Bread and Wine if I am not prepared to similarly offer myself to that
neighbor? If we discern the body, we will engage one another with the reverence and gentleness due the body of Christ.
We
are made the body of Christ in baptism and called to live the grace-filled Eucharistic life
of Jesus with and for one another. We are both judged and nourished by the body
of Christ in the Eucharist. Together we are called to be the body of Christ, broken
and poured out for the sake of a hungry, hurting world. That is serious business. It is
not altogether safe. It is not the usual, expected way of the world. When we actually live it, it is also, in the best
sense of the word, shocking.
See also:
Wow. This read was shocking to my soul - in such a needed, good way. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteAfter some aimless Google searches today, I happened to come across this blog. Father Bill - as my family called him - was my Dad's best friend for decades. Dad would call him "Weeds", and he called my Dad "Gates" (his middle name). My parents met Father Bill and "Aunt Tress", as I called her, before I was born in 1959 in Newberry, Michigan. Dad had never been baptized, and my Mom - who came from a devote Finnish Luther family, had married and moved there. Mom was a nurse at Newberry's only small hospital. She told my Dad, "We're *going* to church - pick one we can agree on." He told her, "Who is that priest I see wearing moccasins with his black shirt and clerical collar at the hospital? He seems like a guy I could like." (My Dad loved wearing moccasins, so that was a big plus to him.)
ReplyDeleteAnd so began a friendship that lasted until Fr. Bill's death. We knew him when we lived in Newberry, and again when he moved to Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. There was no one else like him. I considered Fr. Bill my second Dad, and "Aunt Tress" - his wife - my second Mom. I still grieve them to this day.
Just one example of how special he was - when I was in high school, my Mom agreed to host a weekly early morning breakfast/communion every Wednesday during Lent at our house for our high school friends. How I hated getting up so early to cook with my Mom - ha!
But Fr. Bill was so unique, by the time I graduated from high school, we would have almost 45 kids crammed into our small house every week - Christians, a couple Jewish kids, Catholics, Lutherans - a Buddist exchange student. Fr. Bill's stories and amazing ability to draw young people in was like a beacon of light that was impossible to resist. We all loved him so dearly.
RIP Fr. Bill and Aunt Tress - I'm sure "Gates" and my Mom are up in heaven with you now, along with all our dogs and your beloved basset hounds.