BEING BENEATH

EACH Spring and Summer I would cycle with my mother through the green lanes that wound their way from the suburb’s edge where we lived, through the countryside, to the little village where she grew up and where she tended the grave of a child she had known. My memories are of sitting on the handlebars of her bicycle (until I was old enough to ride my own) as we passed through cool, green tree-tunnels until we emerged into hot, dry days and arrived at the wooden gate leading into the sun-burnt land surrounding the Norman church – a church which served a hamlet abandoned over the years in favour of the site of the present village a mile away.

Most of us can trace our roots back to that ancient farming world. The life of our ancestors would have depended on the natural world in ways we can hardly imagine and part of the attraction of the countryside might be that our roots remember the world from which we came. Clearly, many are attracted to spend time drinking from this spring; urban rush and noise fall away. The blessed silence, broken by the sound of birdsong or leaves rustling in the wind, sweet smell of air unpolluted by exhaust fumes can give a sense of entering a different world and touch memories stored deep within us. Unlike our rural forebears we of today’s suburb and city often forget the need to reverence our sustaining Mother, the Earth, reminding ourselves that the internet can never truly satisfy our deepest desires but can blind us – prevent us from penetrating further than what the screen before our eyes allows. Of course, it's easy to sense God in the glories of a garden and the beauty of nature, but saints find God in the weed growing through a pavement of a city street.

Yet gardens, when cultivated and not paved over, can reveal the beauty of bush and flower; allotments allow some to sink bare hands in humus enabling a connection with our Mother. Our roots can only be satisfied by that way of earthy humility. But even then, some fear the encounter and, responding to a developing generation increasingly separated from the world, shield skin with gloves preventing thus that encounter.

However, there’s a wonderful practice within the Orthodox tradition of Christianity which forever remembers our at oneness with Earth. In praying before an icon of a heavenly saint (or at other times) the Sign of the Cross – with Trinitarian fingers held together, one bent into contact with the palm – by touching the forehead and then bending low to the ground (on which our feet walk and into which we will be buried) before concluding with a horizontal marking of the shoulders from left to right, a final marking tracing the horizon of earth and sky and sea. Naming the Source of all life, the One who came to make all things whole, and the Spirit constantly – invisibly – moving through creation, that faith-full encounter with the ground and what lies hidden beneath, affirms that whilst we’re of the earth, we come from and are destined for glory.

Christian faith is Incarnational – it says: ‘I may be flesh and blood but to be fully human I need to be in touch with the Spirit which gives life.’ Maybe we sense an echo of an oh-so-dim memory planted deep within of the divine Spirit flowing throughout Nature; the Spirit who penetrates everything in Nature and binds us together – the divine ‘glue’ that helps make us whole. At every Mass when bread is taken and wine poured, blessed and given our Faith tells us that this blessed Creation can be transformed to reveal the divine – the yeast of Christ leaving the flour that made the Bread of Life.

I find the same sense of seeing through outward things into the universe beneath when I pray before the Tabernacle in a church. There, Christ is present beneath the fragile form of a wafer of bread. In that ever-so-ordinary form there is something extraordinary, and the Divine which inhabits and transforms bread is also present throughout nature. So I sit or kneel and am moved to whisper, ‘Lord, I adore you; lay my life before you, how I must love you’.

DAILY EUCHARIST - from a letter by Fr. Andrew SDC

If we really believe in (our Lord’s) coming in the Blessed Sacrament, we shall learn to rest in His coming a good deal more.  Do you think that when He comes He does not come to stay and will leave us, and that we must be hurrying back to the altar again and again in order to be sure of having Him in our hearts?  It is to me the greatest possible privilege to say Mass daily … but I often have to go without saying Mass for a day or two, and … if illness or obedience take that away from me I know very well that the Presence which I have received will never leave me except I sin wilfully.

It must have been very hard for S. John the Baptist who loved our Lord so tenderly to go right away from our Lord’s presence at Nazareth, and live all those years in the wilderness, but you see he knew that it if it was our Lord’s will that he should live apart from His visible Presence on earth, he would gain a greater nearness to the spiritual, invisible, Real Presence in the wilderness.  

You say, ‘It would be terrible not to take one’s Communion daily.’ S. Francis was forty days alone, and he did not make his Communion.  S. Benedict was months without hearing Mass or making his Communion. The saints of the Egyptian desert, who knew more about our Lord than anyone, only had Mass on Sundays and Saint’s days.

There are people who are saturated in Sacraments and don't know God.  They don't want more grace: they want to learn to use grace.

S. Paul the Hermit only made one Communion in his whole life S. Antony, S. Bernard, S. Bruno, S. Francis all had their periods when they were deprived of the Sacraments.  S. John of the Cross went months without his Communion when he was imprisoned by the bad monks at his monastery, and during that time he learned all his greatest knowledge.

The thing is to put first is the will of Jesus and the love of Jesus, and not the consolation of the Presence of Jesus.  

I have learnt to know that it is very possible to go to Mass daily and not to go to Jesus at all interiorly, and to go to confession weekly and never to repent.  It all comes from a want of interior silence and detachment, and as the natural comes before the spiritual and the exterior in a measure before the interior, you must get an exterior silence and an exterior detachment before you can have any idea how it is with your soul.  …  there is no such thing as a daily Mass with God.  It is an everlasting Sacrifice, and if we are true to our Communions we are always in the attitude of those who are assisting at the everlasting Sacrifice.

The Caldey Brothers in their beginning had to go weeks sometimes without a Mass, I am almost absolutely sure.  Certainly I know they took that risk in order to gain the essential silence and separation.

From: The Life and Letters of Father Andrew SDC, ed. Kathleen E. Burne, Mowbray, London, 1948, p.109f
(Emboldened texts by J-FF)

VIRAL THOUGHTS - FAITH IN A TIME OF EPIDEMIC

None of us can be unmoved by the reports concerning the Covid-19 pandemic which has suddenly infected the world, changing our behaviour and, on an almost daily basis, the way we live.  Some sporting events have now been cancelled and the Archbishop’s of Canterbury and York have just sent out instructions that the chalice is not to be offered for the duration.  This will be a step some find hard to accept, although I know most will understand it is for the common good.  As I pointed out before, to receive only the Host is not to receive less of the grace conferred by the Sacrament – Christ cannot be divided.  It’s one of the reasons why the priest places a portion of a Host into the Chalice before communion.    

This is a time when we depend on those medical experts who are qualified to give good advice, and to make sure we follow it as best we can – and if you’re fed up with singing Happy Birthday twice as you wash your hands, you may prefer to say the Hail Mary – which has the added benefit of being a prayer.  But there are deeper issues which our Faith addresses and I wanted to say a few things about that this morning as it may be our churches have to close.

The world has not faced a pandemic like this since the outbreak of ‘Spanish’ ‘flu at the close of the First World War.  There have been other epidemics – Ebola, for example – but most hardly affected countries outside parts of Africa or Asia.  Now, suddenly, the wider world is involved.  When I look at what’s happening in some places it makes me wonder if we’re experiencing something of the fear, concern and panic that must have affected people when war was declared in 1939.  Will I be safe?  How will I get food for the family?  What will happen to my job?  What will be the consequences?  Will I die?  And older people, those with certain existing health problems or who know someone at risk, are rightly concerned.  More and more cases are being reported of people suffering from anxiety and depression due to fears about the virus.  There’s nothing wrong with feeling deeply disturbed, but we need to have faith that God is with us, no matter what happens.  That is why we pray ‘thy will be done’; in His will is our peace.  With that in mind, Bp. Jonathan of Croydon has written:

‘Our response to the coronavirus can’t be merely pragmatic, still less fearful – it must be informed by our faith in God.  We come into God’s presence recognising our weakness, our sin and our fear – and opening ourselves to be filled again with God’s gifts of faith, hope and love.  In the incarnation of Christ, God comes to share all our human state, including our desire to avoid suffering – ‘Father if this cup can pass from me’, Jesus prayed in Gethsemane – but with complete trust and commitment to do whatever was the Father’s will.  Because he has passed through death and defeated death, we too can approach whatever may come, knowing that God will be walking with us.’

We have faced situations like this before, but from a background of faith.  Not that God will suddenly end an epidemic or plague but that we trust that God will never forsake us.  In His Will we trust.  It’s not that there’s no point in praying for a miracle – there’s every point in praying for a containment of the virus, that those who suffer will be made well and that a cure will be found.  But miracles are just that – they are out of the ordinary.  In the year 1230, for example, when Rome was suffering from the plague, Pope Gregory IX (a holy man and close to St Francis of Assisi) and people carried a portrait of our Lady through the city and the plague ended.  Icon kept in Church of Santa Maria del Popolo in Rome, but few in the UK have such faith. 

Looking forward it may be that large gatherings for Mass have to be cancelled – although I hope your midweek Masses can continue as well as times when the church can be open for prayer. Even though we may not be able to receive the Blessed Sacrament, we can continue to feed on Christ through deepening our prayer and Notes on how to do this available here, including some on a tradition known as ‘Spiritual Communion’ and other resources. I’d also encourage you to really listen to our Second Reading this morning from Paul’s Letter to the Romans (5:1-11).

At a time when we might feel fearful of the future, worried for ourselves and those we love or have a sense of deepening darkness, it’s vital that we maintain those practices of daily prayer and bible reading which give us life.  Past experience shows that now is the time to turn to God and say – ‘in Your will is my peace.’  The psalms, in particular, can be a real source of strength in facing the future, and if you cannot attend Mass on Sunday I would encourage you to read through the scriptures for the day when you make your Spiritual Communion.

In an uncertain time like this God isn’t a heavenly insurance policy: Christ was not rescued from suffering but was faithful through it.  In fact, what he experienced only deepened his faith in his Father and, through the Resurrection, was profoundly made whole.  This is what we recall during Lent as we look forward to Passiontide and Easter.  We may have to pass through our own Holy Week, but God drew Christ through suffering into new life.  That’s the faith we have and which we need at a time like this and which, as Bp. Jonathan went on to say:

’In the light of that wholeness and that promise, we can live the life we are given with the joy that Christ gives, day by day, looking forward to the fullness of eternal life.’ 

And with that faith it’s important we allow it to inform our life.

It’s at times like this I realise how fortunate I am to be living in a country with a National Health Service.  And I wonder what it must be like for those who are homeless or living on our streets?  Or who are foreigners amongst us, or refugees?  To be a Christian means to be someone who follows the way of Christ, who welcomes the stranger and shows compassion to the foreigner.  We are not to do what some are doing – fight over supplies, be rude to shop staff, show impatience and anger.  Times like this reveal both the best in human nature as well as what happens when we allow it to become corrupted – and it’s not nice.  Whatever happens there’s every reason why we must continue to show compassion and kindness – anything else would mean we were less than human. 

At a time when it’s important to take sensible precautions, we mustn’t erect barriers but witness to the love of the God who breaks down barriers, who reaches out to embrace us, who heals and reconciles us by the gift of his own body, his own blood, of which we are part through baptism.  As our bishops have written:

‘We continue to be the Body of Christ and in the face of perils and adversity we become yet more the Church, for it is by encountering these challenges in a right spirit and trusting in God that we are forged into the image of Christ and become the people God made us to be.  May we encounter such trials as may come our way in a hopeful spirit.   Let us then be of good courage, sensible and cautious, but not anxious and fearful: and may the light of Christ that he has given to burn in us and… shine brightly in these days.

As we make our journey towards Holy Week and Easter the Way of the Cross will be very much before us this year.  We will be bringing the suffering of many to the foot of the Cross from which Our Lord extended his saving love for the world and for us all.’

Finally, if it helps, the Diocese of St Alban’s have published four ‘Golden Rules’ to help us at this time:

Rule One: think about how you can protect and support your neighbours and stop spreading fear about the other.  Don’t demonise anyone or any group.

Rule Two: Think about who may be suffering more than you.  Let each church undertake an audit of all the vulnerable people you know and share out the responsibility to phone them each day – a friendly voice offers solace when someone is worried.

Rule Three. Don’t give into panic and start hoarding food.  Ask your neighbours what they need and do your best to help them get it because if you’re are self-isolating, you’ll need someone to help you.

Rule Four. Live today to the full.  None of us ever know what the future holds so do not be afraid.  Every time we are tempted to give in to fear we need to make a conscious choice to respond in trust, as the psalmist said:

‘Whenever I am afraid, I will put my trust in you;

in God whose word I praise.

In God I trust and will not be afraid,

what can mortals do to me.’ (56.3f)

So, when you leave Mass this morning, look out for the wonder of God in little things – the buds opening on trees, tiny violets smiling through the grass, daffodils waving in the wind – and let your heart offer thanks. Let us pray:

Loving God,
source of healing and comfort,
at this time of fear fill us with your grace
that the sick may be made whole,
this virus contained and a cure may be found.
Strengthen those who care for the sick,
calm the anxious,
protect the most vulnerable
and help us see your beauty in the world.
This we ask in the power of Spirit
and in the faith of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Fr. John-Francis Friendship
15.03.2020

(Parts of this article reflect the writings of Jonathan, Bishop of Croydon, the Diocese of St. Alban’s and the Dean of Southwark)

SERMON on the COLLECT and EUCHARISTIC PRAYER

preached at the Church of All Saints, Blackheath

on the

 5^TH SUNDAY OF LENT (PASSION SUNDAY)

April 7^th, 2019

________________________________________________________

‘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 5^th 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 19^th 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)

A SERMON FOR CORPUS CHRISTI

Readings: Exodus 24: 3-8; Hebrews 9: 11-15; S. Mark: 14: 12-16 & 22-26 

"To be possessed by Jesus and to possess Him –

that is the perfect reign of Love."

ª

INTRODUCTION

Recently I was reminded by a friend that the best sermons consist of three points  He illustrated this dictum with the story of how a young ordinand on one Feast of Corpus Christi preached what was arguably the most comprehensive and theologically profound three point sermon ever given .… and this is what he said:

            Point 1: Jesus is God

            Point 2: Mary is his Mother

            Point 3: Go to Mass

and then sat down, thus earning the eternal gratitude of the entire congregation.  

I’m not going to sit down that quickly but my three points as we celebrate Corpus Christi are these:   

Firstly, Jesus is really present in the Most Holy Sacrament. 

Secondly, He holds us in His Sacred Heart. 

And, thirdly, we need to give our profound attention to Him.

You’ll notice that I mention the Sacred Heart of Jesus because I believe they are profoundly connected.  Eight days after this Feast, on the Octave day, the Church celebrates the great Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus because when we gaze on the Host it is not the outer form of bread we want to behold but the heart of Christ.  And we want Him to gaze on us from His Sacred Heart.  But, sadly, most Anglicans have probably never heard of this celebration – which is to our profound loss.  But let’s begin by reflecting on the way that Jesus is truly present in this Most Holy Sacrament. 

1. JESUS IS TRULY PRESENT IN THIS SACRAMENT

Today we join our fellow Christians around the world in affirming His Real Presence in our midst.  On Maundy Thursday we worshipped with Jesus in Jerusalem as he observed the Passover Feast before His Passion and Death.  Now we recognise His continuing presence with us, a presence made explicit in those words: ‘This is my Body, which is for you.”  So, today, we give our attention to Jesus present with us in the Blessed Sacrament. 

            So today is all about affirming that, as we are present to Him, He is present to us.  And as we are present to Him and feed on His Real Presence: ‘The Bread of Life himself changes the person who eats, assimilating and transforming us into himself’ as someone once wrote. ‘See in what sense the Kingdom of heaven is within us!’ (Nicolas Cabasilas)

2. JESUS HOLDS US IN HIS LOVE

Secondly, Jesus holds us in His love.  That we’re at-one with Divine Love is made explicit in those words of the 19th c. French priest St. Peter Eymard: "To be possessed by Jesus and to possess Him, that is the perfect reign of Love."  Knowing that we’re loved by God is fundamental to living by Faith and this Feast reminds us that He who made us and came among us is eternally, lovingly present with us.  And our primary calling is to live in that love. 

            In eight days’ time, on the Octave day of this Feast of Corpus Christi, comes that great Feast of the Sacred Heart which reinforces this profound calling.  It’s a celebration that’s no optional extra, rather it complements Corpus Christi by its focus on the Divine Compassion of God in Christ.  The great Franciscan saint, Bonaventure, wrote these beautiful words: ‘I have found this Heart in the Eucharist when I have found there the Heart of my Sovereign, of my Friend, of my Brother, that is to say, the Heart of my friend and Redeemer. …  Come, my brethren, let us enter into this amiable Heart never again to go out from It.’

            Of course some people will find all this talk of devotion to the Blessed Sacrament and the Sacred Heart very flamboyant.  But love is passionate, as Bp. Michael Curry revealed at the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.  It’s not academic or disinterested: we need to allow God’s love for us to permeate into the depths of our heart.  Some people talk about there being a crisis of faith in the western world but I think that, if there is a crisis, then it concerns the way so many don’t realise the depths of God’s love for them.   

            And these twin Feasts of Corpus Christi and the Sacred Heart hold us into that deep truth and invite us to allow it to possess us.  One of the problems I frequently encounter through the ministry of Spiritual Direction is that of accepting we are loved.   For too many people childhood was not a time when they learnt this: rather it was a time when they learnt that love had to be earned: it did not come without a cost.  And even the best parent, seeking to love their child to the full, will always make mistakes.   We are adrift in a world where nobody really has the faintest idea what it might feel like to be unconditionally loved.  This is beyond our experience.  Love, even the best we can offer, always comes with provisos and limitations.  So, my final point is that we need to give profound attention to this mystery of God’s love for us.

3. GIVING PROFOUND ATTENTION TO JESUS

A nineteenth century Franciscan, and friend and contemporary of St Peter, was St. John Marie Vianney, better known as the Curé d’Ars.  Some of you may know the moving story about him that speaks powerfully of this need to give our attention to Jesus. 

            Each day an old farmer would enter the village church and sit before the Tabernacle in which, of course, resides the Blessed Sacrament just as it does here in the hanging Pyx.  St John would watch him until, one day, he decided to ask what the old man did when he sat there.  His response was very simple and has become world famous:  “I look at him, he looks at me and we tell each other that we love each other.” 

            That old farmer was contemplating Jesus’ presence in the Tabernacle: he was opening his heart to the Holy Communion of Love.  I often wonder if our Church really encourages people to adopt this contemplative gaze in church – or in life.  We may be well known for our welcome, offer wonderful hospitality, or care for one another, especially those in need, and all of that is right and proper.   But are we well known for our devotion to Jesus?  Nowadays, if you go into many churches, they are often full of noise and activity although Meister Eckart, the great German mystic, maintained that ‘there is nothing so much like God as silence.’  But today, if you like, ‘poor little talkative Christianity’ gives way to our silent adoration of the Word made Flesh.

            I’m sure you’re aware of the way in which what we give our attention to – what we gaze upon – helps mould who we are.   Give your attention to hatred and violence, envy, greed, lust and so on and you may find yourself becoming filled with hate, violence, envy, greed and lust.  The human heart, the centre of who we are, is moulded its desires.  So giving attention, giving our devotion, to Jesus is of greatest importance.  That contemplative prayer of what might be called ‘loving regard’ is essential in developing our life in Christ.  All the great saints have realised this and encourage us to take time to recognise the power of evil and actively gaze upon Christ as He gazes upon us.

            Corpus Christi says: love for you – Mary or John, Christine or David – led me to enter your flesh and shed my blood.  These are my gifts of love for you and the world.  And if you don’t quite understand that – if you can’t grasp that, then look at my Heart.  It’s broken for you, crowned with thorns for you, on fire with love for you and the world.  This Trinity of Persons-in-Love feeds us with love – feeds our hearts because the Heart of God is an ocean of Love. 

In all my woes, in all my joys,

though nought but grief I see,
O sacred heart of Jesus, I place my trust in thee.

When those I loved have passed away,

and I am sore distressed,
O sacred heart of Jesus, I fly to thee for rest.
In all my trials, great or small, my confidence shall be unshaken

as I cry, dear Lord, I place my trust in thee. (Author unknown)

CONCLUSION

Yet there’s something more to this matter of our celebration of Christ’s Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament which we celebrate today.  It’s not only in church we need to re-direct our attention, for each one of us and the whole of Creation is a sacrament of God. 

            Today we affirm the presence of God in all things and so we’re called to venerate all things just as we are called to venerate Christ in His Most Holy Sacrament.  But chiefly we’re called to venerate His presence in each one of us.  Beneath all our masks we bear His image and likeness, which is why we greet one another with a holy kiss at the peace.  Why, just as the Word of God and the Sacrament itself, we are also censed at Mass.  ‘Blessed, praised and hallowed be Jesus Christ on his throne of glory.’  And in the Most Holy Sacrament.  And in you and me and the whole of creation. 

So, today as every day, and in every moment, let us take to heart those words of St. Peter Eymard: 

 "To be possessed by Jesus and to possess Him, that is the perfect reign of Love.”                                  

X

CHRISTMASS GIFT

Rooks ascending into the flat-grey sky;

proud lime trees raising their arms against this reredos

inviting all to join in a great oremus on this day.

Though bare of their vestments they rejoice in their being

they rejoice in their – treeness – and witness to the mystery of life

hidden within their gnarled frame.

The Mass ended and we left in shalom,

to warm greetings from our world-wide sisters and brothers 

gathered this day.

Ghana and Jamaica, Sri Lanka and the Philippines had nurtured them

who now enrich our common humanity
as we celebrate our unity.

‘And we have seen his glory' in this multi-coloured throng
This human diamond which flashes brightly 

from the blaze of a divine heart

– O come, let us adore Him, born this happy morning!

For most today is about the tinsel-wrapped bark of life, 

not its glory,

glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Yet glory lights this ashen, wind-swept sky.

Behind the masque the mystery.

So adore the hidden beauty of these

oh so solid guardians – these angels who surround us

in the grey void.

We know that no-thing is there,

yet we wonder that the articifer of life

has loved it all into being and that love enfolds it all.

That we exist in a skywide ocean of love.

That’s what I want to celebrate!

This small garden of delights is where I can contemplate 

the wonder of heaven.

All that is best, the more-ness of life, its fecundity 

even in winter,

the mystery that lies beyond has entered into a tiny space

and infused all space with hidden glory.

So, yes, glory to God on earth as it is in heaven

– and shalom, justice, peace and goodwill to all.

Look long and relish this gift.