preached at the
Church of All Saints, Blackheath
on the
April 7th,
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 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
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.
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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