Sunday, April 07, 2019

SERMON on the COLLECT and EUCHARISTIC PRAYER


preached at the Church of All Saints, Blackheath
on the
 5TH SUNDAY OF LENT (PASSION SUNDAY)
April 7th, 2019
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‘Twas Christ the Word that spake it
The same took bread & brake it
And as the Word did make it, that I believe & take it.’

Those are the – somewhat enigmatic – words Elizabeth 1 reputedly used when questioned on her views about transubstantiation – that definition of what happens when the priest speaks the words of consecration at Mass.  As part of this series of addresses exploring the Eucharist, a Greek word meaning ‘thanksgiving’, I’ve been asked to talk today about the Collect and Eucharistic Prayer, sometimes called the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving

The timelessness of the celebration
But let me first say that the Eucharist defines our faith.  Rooted in the Jewish Passover, the event celebrating the escape of the Jews from their slavery in Egypt, it unites us in Christ as we celebrate our liberation by his triumph over sin and death.  Time becomes timeless and we’re one with those disciples who gathered with him in the Upper Room as they were one with those who celebrate their freedom.  This ‘re-membering’ re-connects us with those events so that, as the Passover service says:
          ‘in each generation, each person is obligated to see themselves
          as though he or she personally came forth from Egypt.’  (Haggadah cf.Ex.13.8)

‘Though Steve or Mary may preside over the celebration, their vestments – the stole and chasuble – symbolise that it’s Christ who stands before us.  The individual priest isn’t important, and the various colours of the vestments reflect the season or celebration – we don’t just choose something we happen to like!   But let’s begin with some thoughts on the Collect.

The Collect
The invitation, ‘Let us pray’, after we’ve been praying at the beginning of Mass, comes as something of a jolt – which it’s meant to be.  Corporate penitence and praise, in confession and the Gloria suddenly cease, and the priest is encouraged to invite us to share in a moment of silence when we can recollect our attention (hence the term, the ‘Collect’) before offering a prayer.  Such an audible change is meant to alter the tempo and encourage us to direct ourselves to God alone.  It’s been used at this point since at least the 5th century in Rome and concludes what are called the Introductory Rites. 
          The purpose of the Collect is to acknowledge what God has done for us in the past and then, on that basis, to ask for something in the present, always acknowledging that our prayer is in and through Christ.  Over time more than one prayer began to be offered at this point but in the 1970’s, with other changes made to the Liturgy, it was decided to return to the more ancient tradition of focusing into one prayer.  Apart from the fixed collects which appear in Common Worship, some of which are over a thousand years old, there are others more recently written to reflect the themes of the day.  So, for example, today we could have prayed this beautiful Collect:

God of power and mercy,
you bring forth springs in the wastelands
and turn despair into hope.
Look not upon the sins of our past,
but lift from our hearts the failures that weigh us down,
that we may find refreshment and life in Christ,
our liberator from sin …

Standing etc…,
I grew up in a tradition where you always knelt for prayer – regardless – certainly not crouch or sit.  Standing was reserved for singing hymns – and hearing the gospel read.  But times move on – or, in this case, they move back.  For the first Christians, following Jewish custom, stood to pray because they wanted to express respect and readiness to act, as can be seen in many frescoes in the catacombs of Rome.  You’d not dream of sitting if the monarch entered the room, and here we’re about to welcome the King of Kings!  We’re not an audience at a play or students listening to a lecture, but active participants in a divine drama.  Kneeling, on the other hand, was the position of servitude; standing straight, tall and free had special meaning for early believers, something we still recall when the priest says: 'we thank you for counting us worthy to stand in your presence and serve you ...'
          Of course, people have always sat if necessary – the term ‘weakest to the wall’ dates to pre-Reformation times when there were no pews but, if you were ill or elderly, you could sit on benches around the walls of the church.  Then, with the Reformation, the view that we’re ‘miserable sinners’ – unworthy and needing to kneel in God’s presence – began to dominate.  No!  We’re redeemed sinners, people who, through our baptism into Christ, have worth and dignity.   

Genuflecting
The one time in this great Prayer when people do kneel is at the prayer of consecration – in adoration of the mystery to which we’re present.  We also genuflect – drop onto one knee – as a profound sign of respect whenever passing the Sacrament indicated by a white (or, sometimes, red) light.  

Prayer of Preparation
Before the Eucharistic Prayer itself begins the gifts of unleavened bread (like matzo) and fermented wine are prepared during the Offertory.  These are used because they form an important part of the Passover liturgy.  It’s not easy to know what’s going on but – apart from anything else – there’s a rather wonderful prayer which the priest says as a little water is poured into the chalice:

            ‘By the mystery of this water and wine, 
             may we come to share in the divinity of Christ,                          
             who humbled Himself to share in our humanity’ 

Our humanity mixed with Divinity – that’s what we celebrate. 
            In the 19th century one of the founders of the Society of the Divine Compassion, Fr. Andrew, once wrote that whilst it’s terrible that beautiful things can be put to an evil use, here we have a reminder that the humblest thing may become the greatest.  A little white wafer is laid on the altar, a few drops of water mingled with wine, and ‘these humble elements become the holiest of mysteries.’ No wonder the priest offers those two prayers when all has been prepared:

            Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation,
            through your goodness we have this bread …
            this wine … to offer ... it will become for us
            the bread of life and cup of our salvation

The Eucharistic Prayer
Then our attention is directed to the vision of God’s work for us in what is called the Anaphora, another Greek word meaning carrying back or up, because we’re invited to ‘lift up’ our hearts – the centre of our being – to God.  We’re no longer to be focused into this passing world but to centre ourselves into the mystery of God.  We affirm that this is what we’re doing – we lift our heart to the Lord – and then find ourselves filled with thanks and praise.  And it is right so to do.  No penitence now, just the presence of heavenly glory where we stand with angels and archangels and join with them in singing the Sanctus.

Prayer of Oblation and Epiclesis
Then comes the long prayer of oblation or offering during which the priest, as they lower their hands on the gifts, invokes the Holy Spirit.  This is the epiclesis which concerns the way the Spirit, the creative energy of the Trinity, brings things into being.  The Spirit hovered over the chaos of the primal world to bring about light and life.  Orthodox Christians, in particular, believe it’s the Holy Spirit who ‘activates’ the yeast of Christ, that bread and wine might become his Body and Blood.  This invocation appears in most ancient texts but became lost in the old Latin Mass, the precursor to our Rite of 1662.  That was a work of its time – now we know better. 

Words of Institution
It was the words of Institution that Elizabeth the First referred to when asked her views on the Mass.  Most Christians recognise that something happens to the bread and wine but exactly what, when – and even for how long – has been the subject of argument and even conflict.  Many western churches consider that it’s at the words: ‘This is my body … my blood’ that change occurs – there was even a law preventing bakery’s operating close to churches just in case the priest spoke too loudly and – well, I’ll leave that to your imagination.  That’s also why bells are rung after the words of consecration; why we elevate the chalice and paten, and why we genuflect – for that indicates Christ is present beneath these outward signs.  The moment of Transubstantiation.
          It’s here that our eyes need to be drawn, not words in a book or – perish the thought – on a screen.  We’re those who stand as willing servants in the presence of God, for here the King of Kings has become present – no mere symbol but a true Presence.  Yet the Prayer we affirm through our ‘Amen’ (so be it) isn’t a magical repetition of the words of Jesus – it’s a prayer that opens up the great sweep of the story of our creation and re-creation, taking us into heaven as we engage with it.  So, as the prayer continues, we recall his one, perfect sacrifice made upon the Cross and unite all our little sacrifices with his one great sacrifice which reveals itself whenever we ‘do this in memory’ of him who is our Paschal Victim, the crucified Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.  God’s heart bleeds that we might be free – behold!  See!  Look!   Christ’s Sacred Heart saying ‘abandon yourself to my love and join in my self-giving: that which is sacrificed can bring life!  All our sacrifices gathered into his whenever that sacrifice is re-membered – brought together – before the Father: for time is timeless and that event present as we celebrate. 

Communion
And when it comes time for us to unite ourselves with his sacrifice and feed on him who offers us his life, Christ comes to us in all his fullness in either the Host – and some prefer to receive only in that kind – or the Precious Blood.  It’s not necessary to ‘dip’ – or intinct – the Host into the chalice for we receive his fullness in either kind.   As St Thomas Aquinas wrote and as we sing in his wonderful hymn – Laud, O Sion thy salvation:

Yea, beneath these signs are hidden
Glorious things to sight forbidden:
Look not on the outward sign.
Wine is poured and Bread is broken,
But in either sacred token
Christ is here by power divine.

Conclusion
Week by week and day by day his sacrifice is celebrated; Christ becomes truly present beneath earthly forms of bread and wine and we who are part of his Body feed on that Body, becoming what we eat.  The Eucharist isn’t a trip down memory lane, but a real feeding on the Body and Blood of the crucified, risen Christ – the food that satisfies yet makes you hungrier.  The veil between heaven and earth has been parted by this Divine Mystery; we’re in the presence of God, a presence which is always with us and, like Moses we he returned from eating and drinking with God on the summit of Mount Sinai (Exodus 24.11), our faces glowing with having met Christ.  The tiny white Host reserved in our churches and exposed on our altars during Benediction or Holy Hour offering a perpetual doorway to the Real Presence of heaven on earth. 

O Christ, whom now beneath a veil we see,
may what we thirst for soon our portion be,
to gaze on thee unveiled, and see thy face,
the vision of thy glory and thy grace.
(St Thomas Aquinas: 1225-1274)

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