SHARING IN THE LIFE OF THE LORD

Today I heard someone say of the Eucharist: ‘It will be wonderful to receive the wine again’. They were commenting on the way the chalice has been withheld since the pandemic began and is only being offered again in some churches.

Whilst I understand her desire for this intimate encounter, I am also sad that the comment suggests there is something ‘missing’ when we cannot receive from the chalice.  The words caused me to sense how easy it is to understand the sacrament we share in as a ritual, cultic meal or – at another extreme – what would amount to a cannibalistic feast.  Both mislead us as to what we share in when the Eucharist is celebrated.  As I wrote in The Mystery of Faith:

‘The Holy Spirit invoked on the gifts of bread and wine animates the ‘yeast’ of Christ in the unleavened bread and wine of the Kingdom. Christ will not depart from the Sacrament, coming to us in either the Host or Precious Blood. So if you can’t receive from the Chalice (receiving from the same cup as your sister or brother in the Body is an important sign of our common-unity) don’t dip the Host into the Chalice! The fullness of grace comes through both.’ 

Surely, what matters is not that we ‘drink the wine’, anymore than that we should ‘eat the bread’ but that we should partake of Him who said: ‘This is my body … my blood’.  St John recorded Jesus as saying: “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.  Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever” (John 6.53f).  Those words shocked some to the extent they stopped following Him (John 6.66f) – I doubt whether inviting people to ‘share a sip of wine in memory of me’ would have quite such an effect!

The reason why I’m sad is that some have, clearly, never had their eyes opened to the heart of this Mystery.  Christ is not divided between Chalice and Host; rather, we receive the fullness of grace through either the Bread of Life or the Chalice of Salvation, the precious Body and Blood of Christ.  We say ‘Amen’ to what we receive – that we may become more fully that on which we feed.  Isn’t that the reason we share in this Sacred Banquet?

HARMLESS FUN?

Last night I heard a priest on TV making light of consuming quatntities of "wine" and having to eat lots of "bread"at the end of the Eucharist and my heart was saddened. Surely priests, of all people, should revere the gifts entrusted to us lest we are unworthy of the Giver. She might think it was just a 'joke', but others will see we don't care if fun is made of the faith - and cold be forgiven for thinking they can do the same.

Perhaps I am overly sensitive, but I find the way people use that which is holy in a cavilier way, or who take the Holy Name of Jesus Christ in vain, to be - blasphemous. I realise there are many other - perhaps more important - matters of concern on the media, but I'm reminded that Jesus said: "Do not give what is holy to dogs; and do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under foot and turn and maul you." (Matthew 7.6).

It's easy to consider such things 'a bit of harmless fun', or to say that worse things are said in theological college Common Rooms.  But what's said in the privacy of such a place is one thing; what is said via public broadcasting quite another.

TRACTS FOR OUR TIMES - Exploring Christian Faith

Simply written modern Tracts for our Times (some having informed the writing of The Mystery of Faith) which seek to do what it says on the label.  Links to YouTube versions, where available, are provided)

TITLES IN THE SERIES

1.       I Believe in God  (You Tube: https://youtu.be/F-DG9Z_MnDQ)

2.       I Believe in Jesus  (You Tube: https://youtu.be/1QRmD-IdO78)

3.       I Believe in the Holy Spirit (You Tube: https://youtu.be/T8OVQobYyqc)

4.       Deepening Prayer (YouTube: https://youtu.be/RS06Sro6bK8)

5.       The Ministry of Healing  (You Tube https://youtu.be/C3pPPsA7r2Q)

6.       The Sacrament of Confession  (You Tube: https://youtu.be/Je3BvuUr6qs)

7.       Praying for the Departed (You Tube: https://youtu.be/qM-gyh5ruR8)

8.       The Longest Journey – Preparing for Death

9.       Dealing with the death of one we love

10.     Is this a Catholic Church?

11.     Holy Baptism

12.     The Eucharist

13.     First Holy Communion

14.     Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament

15.     Let there be light

16.     A Selection of Prayers and Devotions

17.     The Use of the Body in Prayer

18.     The Use of Incense

19.     Mary and the Saints (You Tube: https://youtu.be/FR1v5oEjVbo)

20.     The Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary

21.     Lent, Holy Week and Easter

22.     Traditional Customs and Devotions

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For a fuller exploration:

The Mystery of Faith, Exploring Christian Belief

(This book is intended for individual and group use. It is divided into 8 sections with discussion questions at the end of each.  For those wishing to use it over 6 sessions, a suggested means to do this is available from jff2209@yahoo.com  Please also email for a copy of any of the leaflets shown above)

THE TRIUMPH OF FORM OVER SUBSTANCE

As (one of) the oldest members of the (new) Sodality of Mary, Mother of Priests I’m conscious of the paradox that at the same time as one’s memory begins to fade it also reaches back further.  I also realise that the number who can recall events from 60+ years ago lessens as people of my age begin to die off: but it also means one can have a certain clarity concerning events which those who are younger may not have experienced.  We carry history.

One of those events concerns the debates in the 1960’s about the Book of Common Prayer when many were increasingly dissatisfied with the 1662 Rite of Holy Communion. So I’ve been surprised and concerned in noticing people expressing the view that it is a beautiful liturgy from the dawn of the Church of England (a dangerous notion) which helps define its identity (equally debateable).  This is the liturgy we struggled to be freed from so that developments in Eucharistic theology – not least the re-claiming of its sacrificial nature and the action of the Spirit – could be expressed in language not from the 17th century which was often misunderstood, a language which might express the wonders of Elizabethan English but which also spoke to many outside the church of its antiquated nature.

Over the years I’ve noticed that, in religion, there’s always a danger of form taking precedence over substance, feelings over facts.  That what and how we do something becomes more important than what lies behind why we do it – what the form seeks to express about the substance of faith and issues of worship is ignored: this is what I like.  This seems true for Catholics (and Anglo-Catholics) in particular because Christianity is an incarnational religion – matter matters – and so the senses have an important part to play. But I wonder whether, to a greater or lesser extent, it’s true of all denominations – and religions? Is it something of greater concern to the aesthete than the ascetic?

For example, Mass in Latin can appeal to those who love the language and its universality as opposed to vernacular translations only understandable by people who speak that language (of course, those who don’t understand Latin might have a similar problem … ).  Exactly the same would be true of the use of the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) or the Authorised (King James) Version of the Bible (AV) which can appeal to those who love the cadences of Shakespearian English but can leave most people wondering what it’s saying.

To maintain the use of the 1662 Communion Service ignores advances in liturgical understanding and developments in the way texts created at a particular time reflect the social and theological understanding of those times. It also ignores the compilers statement that: IT is a thing plainly repugnant to the Word of God, and the custom of the Primitive Church, to have publick Prayer in the Church, or to minister the Sacraments in a tongue not understanded of the people. (Article XXIV) 

Finally, it ignores the way Anglo-Catholics, in particular, struggled to persuade the Church (of England) to develop a more theologically ‘catholic’ eucharist, a struggle seemingly forgotten by those who still support use of the BCP Communion Service (although few, I imagine, would use the Rite as instructed by the rubrics).  The way our forebears created the English Missal (and influenced the Rite of 1928) seems forgotten or overlooked even though these were enormous improvements on 1662 whilst keeping the cadences of BCP English.

Whilst this is true for the Communion Service it is equally true for the two Offices of Morning and Evening Prayer and liturgical developments in the RC Church and Church of England. As a former Religious I was involved in this and noticed that all Orders set about revising their Offices – to the extent that the Society of St Francis spearheaded those revisions resulting in Common Worship.  Those for whom the Office - especially the psalms - is the centre of their life and who pray it four - or seven - times a day it was clear that the form and language of the old Prayer Book did little to enable a living relationship with God - the language might be of interest to classists but simply didn't carry the prayer of those for whom the Office was central. It felt like two lovers, one of whom was talking to the other in an outdated language. Eventually every community has revised their Office and enriched their common prayer so that no Anglican Order now wojld consider using the 1662 version.  

In a similar way it was Anglican Religious who were at the forefront of developing the use of Plainsong (e.g. CSMV Wantage and the Manual of Plainsong).  They were also involved with creating more recent chants both of which have been realised as important aids to prayer in a way Anglican Chant can never be – so no Anglican Order has ever used that chant in its common Office.  Plainsong has a meditative quality lacking in Anglican Chant, possibly one of the main reasons why (unlike Plainsong) Chant rarely features on the radio in people’s choice of ‘meditative music’.

I’ve noticed a tendency to see both Anglican Chant and the BCP as defining the essence of Anglicanism.  Yet, surely, for Catholics these can only be a historical expressions lest a particular theology and liturgical usage emerging out of a specific geographical reformation, becomes an idol.  The importance of Catholic Societies such as the Sodality of Mary which ‘seek(s) to renew our Anglo-Catholic heritage and look(s) to the heroic priests of the past to inspire us and strengthen us’ (http://sodalityofmary.co.uk/about-us/) is to maintain and promote catholic form and practice.  Catholics need to be concerned with the substance of that faith, worship and sacramental teaching, and recognise the dangers of being attached to the forms that faith has taken, especially when these were developed as a re-action against Catholic practice.

After publication of the revised Eucharistic Rites by the Roman Catholic church (the Missale Romanum revised by Decree of the Second Vatican Council and published in 1969) use of the previous ‘Tridentine Mass’ was forbidden (an instruction recently re-iterated).  Given the changes to the Church of England Eucharistic Rite finalised in 2000 consequent to the recovery of the fundamental, creative place of the Holy Spirit and the sacrificial aspect of the Eucharist, perhaps our Church should have done the same (although I hate to think of the outcry there would have been)? 

For both Roman Catholics and Anglicans the issue is the same – is the Liturgy to be a living celebration or petrified (if beautiful) totem?

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’.

SERMON FOR 27th SUNDAY IN ORDINARY (St. Francis Day) - October 4th, 2020

Is. 5: 1-7 God’s vineyard not producing grapes

Phil.3: 4b-14 Longing for life in Christ

Matt. 21: 33-46 Parable of vineyard (2) – God gives vineyard to others.

‘There was a landlord who planted a vineyard.’ (Matt. 21:33)

INTRODUCTION
I wonder what you feel about Greta Thunberg, that teenage climate activist from Sweden?  I have a sense she’s a bit like marmite – but I quite like marmite.   I also like St. Francis of Assisi who, in a similar way to Greta, had a deep concern for the environment.  I mention this because the church normally celebrates Francis’ life today, October 4th, although Francis gives way to Jesus this year.  And today is also the final day of that five-week period named ‘Creationtide’, developed through an initiative of the Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople – the focus of which, this year, has been preparations for the 26th International Climate Change Conference to be held in Glasgow next autumn.

CHALLENGE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI
I know we need to care for the planet and try to do my bit, although Greta shook my middle-class conscientiousness.  But it’s the more radical approach of Francis I really value, because he not only had a concern for creation but celebrated our inter-connectedness.  Brother Wind, Sister Water – Mother Earth – are not terms dreamt up by a bohemian environmentalist, but by this humble Italian saint whose life many consider to be closest to that of Jesus.  Francis’ has long inspired creative people: his great ‘Canticle of Creation’ lies behind that popular hymn, ‘All creatures of our God and king’; in 1972 Franco Zeffirelli wrote and directed Brother Sun, Sister Moon, a slightly hippy presentation of Francis’ early life, whilst fifty years beforehand Roberto Rossellini’s The Flowers of St. Francis offered a far earthier version which he wanted to present as "the perfume of the most primitive Franciscanism".

Why, then, does a thirteenth century saint appeal to twentieth century musicians, film makers and thousands of Christians around the world – and I’m one who have heard his appeal and joined the Franciscan Third Order.  One popular view is that he was kind to animals, but that is to trivialise his message.  Rather, it’s his life of poverty which stands in stark contrast to the superficiality of today’s quest for wealth and power; his complete obedience to Jesus which reveals that love which brought all things into being, and his profound joy and compassion for humankind which touches the hearts of all who have come to know him.  But back to nature.

FRANCIS AND CREATION
Francis’ life, which culminated in him receiving the Stigmata, the wounds of Christ in his hands, feet and side revealing the depth of his love – reveals the wonder of what humanity is called to discover through profoundly alternative ways of living.  Francis asks – where does your treasure lie?  He showed that we need to live in harmony with all things because we are sisters and brothers with one another and creation.  He saw and venerated the Creator in Creation revealing that one of the greatest evils is to seek domination and not approach life with humility and compassion.  As his biographer, St. Bonaventure, wrote: ‘In everything (Francis) saw him who is beauty itself, and he followed his Beloved everywhere by his likeness imprinted on creation; of all creation he made a ladder by which he might mount up and embrace Him who is all-desirable.’

REVERENCING CREATION
I have a profound respect for what Greta Thunberg, Sir David Attenborough and so many others are seeking to do, and am ashamed at times when I realise what my generation has done and is doing with the planet.  I see behind Greta and Sir David that Little Poor Man of Assisi whose smile lights up when Earth sings in harmony but who weeps at our inhumanity and lack of compassion.  And I see in him One who suffers as we rape and pillage the earth and who says to us – ‘but this Earth is my precious gift to you!’   So, let’s open the eye of our heart to see, value, reverence and celebrate the wonders of this gift and, like St. Francis, live more simply that others may simply live.  But how does all this connect with our readings today?

THE VINEYARD
Well, two of them – the Old Testament and gospel readings – both concern vineyards.  The first, from the prophet Isaiah, warns Israel of what will happen if the vineyard isn’t cared for; and the gospel reading also contains a warning about those who use the vineyard for their own ends.  The story is, of course, another parable and parables aren’t meant to be taken literally – their meaning reveals itself when we look at what it is saying through the lens of faith in the call of God.  And what is clear is that this one is a warning to those who act irresponsibly in relation to what they have charge of.   

FACING THE CRISIS
I think it’s fairly clear that we are virtually into a climate catastrophe brought about by our own misuse of creation.  People like Greta and Sir David appear as a present-day prophets to warn us of the dangers we face.  Sadly, there are many powerful people who care more for creating wealth for themselves and protecting their interests than caring for the planet.  Many are associated with energy companies – but you don’t need to be an expert in global energy production to know this – just go around any supermarket and see how, in the space of a lifetime, we have abandoned ourselves to the grip of plastics and those petro-chemical industries that profit from our addiction to them.   

Recently I came across these words by a Franciscan layman call Gerard Straub in his book ‘The Sunrise of the Soul’; he writes: ‘Our Society glorifies in the amassing of individual wealth and an ever-growing accumulation of goods.  … Anything that furthers our goal of individual material prosperity is considered good, and anything that hinders it is considered bad.’ (p.203)  His words are a consequence of his commitment to St. Francis who heard Jesus’ stark warning: “Where your treasure lies, there will your heart be also”, and who warned us of the corruptive power of wealth.  St. Francis looked at Creation and saw another kind of wealth – the wealth and wonder of all that freely exists for our benefit – providing we don’t grasp at them.  Providing we treat the planet with respect and demand that our politicians take a stand against those who profit from treating the earth as if it owes us a living.  Finally, let’s consider how this all connects with this Eucharist.

CREATION AND EUCHARIST
Back in the 1980s it was popular with some preaches to quote a saying of the early Church Father, St. Irenaeus: ‘The glory of God Is man, fully alive.’ (Forgive the gender specific but it has a poetic crispness to it.)  We would then go on to explore what ‘being fully alive’ might entail, but we often forgot the second part of Irenaeus’ saying: ‘And the glory of man is the vision of God.’

Last week I pointed out that this celebration isn’t just about receiving a piece of bread or even a sip of wine but about feeding on the Body and Blood of Christ and realising that glory with your inner eye of love.   Even in the time of St. John some found that too demanding – surely this is just a reminder of a simple meal Jesus shared with his friends?   No!  It’s far more than that!  Beneath these ordinary gifts lies the glory of God: that’s why we venerate the Sacrament – why we genuflect – take the knee – as we approach Christ – because we see beneath the outer forms the glorious Presence of the Creator.   St. Francis knew that and, in one of his letters, wrote: “O sublime humility!  O humble sublimity! That the Lord of the whole universe, God and the Son of God, should humble himself like this and hide under the form of a little bread, for our salvation.”

If we venerate Christ here, see with the eye of our heart that he comes to us on this altar and adore him beneath these forms of bread and wine, if we can do that, then our view of all created matter can change.  For, just as God is present in these precious gifts, so God is present in all he has made, and our inner eye will be able to see and venerate him in all things – in every majestic tree or simple blade of grass; in flowers and fruits, fish and animals – in every rock and stone God says, ‘see, I am pleased with all that my hands have made’. 

You don’t have to be a creationist to believe that, or a biblical literalist – or a Buddhist, just a creature who realises that we are one with all that exists.   To do so can be of real help during this pandemic – be conscious of your connectedness with all creation.  Look at everything around you, relish it and then give thanks to God – even if it’s something as simple as a leaf or a feather.  Let me close with St. Francis’ great song of thankfulness for all this:

All praise be yours, my Lord,
through all that you have made,

And first my lord Brother Sun,
Who brings the day; and light you give to us through him.
How beautiful is he, how radiant in all his splendour!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

All praise be yours, my Lord,
through Sister Moon and Stars;
In the heavens you have made them, bright
And precious and fair.

All praise be yours, my Lord,
through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all the weather’s moods,
By which you cherish all that you have made.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom you brighten up the night.
How beautiful is he, how merry!
Full of power and strength.

All praise be yours, my Lord,
through Sister Earth, our Mother,
Who feeds us in her sovereignty and produces
Various fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.

Let us praise, bless and adore Him in all His creation,
and in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.  Amen.

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 1 - IN A TIME OF PANDEMIC: Living the Eucharist

AT A TIME when public celebrations of Mass have been prohibited due to the COVID-19 pandemic, many of us are expressing real hunger for the Eucharist.   As I read some of their posts, I recalled words I wrote in my book, Enfolded in Christ: the inner life of a priest.  Although they were written with clergy in mind, I hope they might speak to a wider audience:

‘THE EUCHARIST cannot be contained within the church for it is greater than the liturgy we celebrate.  Teilhard de Chardin SJ, the early 20th c. palaeontologist, geologist, philosopher and priest, expressed this most profoundly in his Hymn of the Universe probably written on the Feast of the Transfiguration in 1923 when he was living in the Ordos desert of Inner Mongolia. Lacking the necessities for Mass he was led to compose his majestic Mass on the World which opens with one of the most remarkable statements ever made about the Eucharist as he realises the need to raise himself beyond any symbols to offer all that lay before him ‘up to the pure majesty of the real itself.’

He acknowledges that the words of Christ, spoken by the priest over bread and wine, flow beyond those forms to the whole Body of Christ. In fact they reach into the cosmos itself so that all matter is affected by them. His Eucharist may lack bread and wine but before him lie the elements of creation that will provide the substance for celebration. His ‘prayer of consecration’ contains a wonderful invocation that the ‘radiant word’ would embrace and breathe life into the depths of creation so that Christ’s hands might ‘direct and transfigure’ all that is brought into this Eucharistic act to remould, rectify: ‘recast it down to the depths from which it springs.’  Over what greater celebration could a priest preside? 

Teilhard reminds us that all are invited to ‘live eucharistically’, to live out of that great ‘sacrifice of prayer and praise’ and look at the world with wonder and awe, recognising all things as a sacrament of the Divine. He realised that Eucharistic spirituality overflows the Liturgy to embrace life itself and is made real as we seek to discern everyday holiness. The way we walk down the street with thankfulness in our hearts offering to God all that we might encounter – the joys and sorrows, brokenness and wonder; the conversations we engage in, the sights that greet our eye whether that be in a green and pleasant place or amongst the houses, shops and factories of a neglected inner-city streetscape – all are the matter for our ongoing celebration. Our calling is to incline the heart to the real presence of Christ in all things.

(Eucharistic) spirituality, then, involves living with the intention of making of each moment an offering to God. The Eucharist is central to how our spirituality evolves because it is the nexus linking that which lies at the heart of our relationship with God and God’s creation, the place where Divine Love is most fully revealed. To be lovers of God-in-all-things must be the focus of our lives, not parishes, schools, cathedrals or whatever. They are the context. But we are called to love God and to live out of his compassionate Heart realising that the life which we celebrate is one that emerges from his sacrifice to which we are conjoined.  Sacrifice is at the heart of priestly life, an ‘Act of Communion’ with God in love. It is the means whereby we attain and rejoice in our true, Godly, life.  At the altar we join all our small sacrifices to his one saving sacrifice and beyond the altar we seek to live sacrificially that we may share in the life of our great High Priest. For in Jesus we see how one person can belong utterly to God.

Gerard Manley Hopkins also recognised this and shared his exuberance in the poem God’s Grandeur:

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil….

But it’s not easy in the hum-drum of daily life.  What often happens as we walk down the street or sit on the train is that we notice life, shrug our metaphorical shoulders or cross our metaphorical arms and get into a conversation with that ‘evil spirit’ who happily waits just out of sight, ready to cast a critical glare.  He plays some old tapes about how awful things are and gently leads us down the spiral into the place of darkness. It’s then we need to wake up and realise that the sursum corda is not only necessary in the Liturgy: we are not to look on the world with a critical glare but a contemplative gaze. And when we catch ourselves going down that spiral we need to return to the simple spiritual practices which can re-awaken us to the wonder of creation – even though the glory may be smeared with dirt:

May you be well; May you be happy; May you know the compassion of Christ.'

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When it’s possible to re-open churches, or where it’s possible to look into churches, I hope that the Blessed Sacrament will be exposed for people to see, for such Exposition is a continuation of the Eucharist and a powerful means of encounter with Christ.

Fr. John-Francis Friendship, March 2020,
extract from Enfolded in Christ: the inner life of a priest, p.110

SERMON FOR THE SOLEMNITY OF CHRIST THE KING

Preached at the Church of St. John the Baptist, Eltham

at Parish Mass on November 24th, 2019

Jer. 23: 1-6; Col. 1: 11-20 and Luke 23: 33-43

‘The days are coming, says the Lord,

when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch,

and he shall reign as king and deal wisely.’ (Jer. 23 5)

 ª

INTRODUCTION
Today is the last Sunday of the Church’s Year: next week we’ll be starting the season of Advent when we prepare for the birth of Christ.  We give the title, Christ the King to this Sunday because it reminds us, at the end of the year, that we belong to Jesus.  He is the One to whom our attention is to be given; who’s life must inform ours; who needs to reign in our hearts.  He is that ‘Righteous Branch’ which Jeremiah spoke of, our leader who has adopted us as members of his reign.  So, I want to reflect on some of the things that means: what does it mean that we are members of Christ; that we belong to the Church; that we are to invite others into his reign?

MEMBERS OF CHRIST

The primary thing for all of us is that we have been chosen by God: we are His beloved.  For whatever reason we are members, not of some exclusive club (perish the thought) but of a divine body of women and men around the world and down through time, one with the saints who we have been reminded about over these past few weeks.  We’re as much members of the whole Body of Christ as we are of this particular church – something I was reminded of when we were in Jerusalem with Christians from around the world – and with those who have stayed faithful in that Land since the time of Christ.  Who are so easily forgotten, not least by those who support the State of Israel in its constant persecution of Palestinian Christians (as well as Muslims), something the President of the United States blatantly ignores.  

LIFE IN THE KINGDOM

And being there also reminded me that we’re all part of the mystical body that has existed throughout time – something that happens every time we celebrate the life of a saint – with John the Baptist, Francis of Assisi, Elizabeth of Hungary and Teresa of Lisieux  – with the martyrs of the early Christian era, the concentration camps of Nazi Germany or the deserts of north Africa and Arabia today.  The heroes of faith who have gone before us and are part of the eternal reign of Christ and with whom we are present as we celebrate this Eucharist.

The past few weeks were, for a while, called the ‘Kingdom Season’ when we were encouraged to remember that life to which we’re all – in the end – called.  Today’s feast is the high point of that season of remembrance and a final reminder of what it is we’re called to.  We cannot see those who have gone before us, but we believe that we dwell with them.  As St. Paul wrote in his Letter to the Colossians that’s just been read:

‘(Christ) is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation: for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible … He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead. … For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell …’ (Col. 1: 15-19) 

Aren’t they such hopeful and encouraging words!  A bold statement that was intended to remind those early Christians, no doubt caught up in the issues of everyday life, of their amazing calling.   It is all about glory: Christ’s glory and ours.   When life seems to be getting us down, we need to remember these words, for you and I are ‘dust destined for glory’.  We have such a potential – and yet are so often satisfied with less.   And, sometimes (dare I say it?) we act as though we were less than that to which we are called.  That’s why making our confession is so important and something each of us needs to consider.  When did you last make yours?  Or have you never made one?  If not, maybe Advent is a time to consider doing so for, as St. Paul went on to say: ‘God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.’ (Col. 1: 20)

PRAYER IN CHRIST

In our prayer we should always begin by recalling ourselves in the presence of, and realise ourselves as part of, this divine body.  That’s why the opening of the Eucharistic Prayer invites us to lay aside our earthliness and realise ourselves before God: Lift up your hearts, says the priest.  We lift them to the Lord you reply and, in so doing, affirm that you desire to be one with Christ in glory.   And his invitation needs our assent.  It’s not a command; it’s an invitation of love requiring our loving response.  As St. Teresa of Avila wrote: “If you would progress (along) this road (to God), the important thing is ... to love much.  Do then whatever most arouses you to love.” (Int. Castle: Ch.1)

The road towards union with Christ our King doesn’t require us to pass any tests: it’s the royal road of loving desire for at-one-ness with God.  As St. Teresa’s great contemporary, John of the Cross, wrote in the opening lines of his poem ‘The Dark Night of the Soul’:

               On a dark night,

                  Kindled in love with yearnings

      – oh happy chance! –

                  I went forth without being observed,

                  My house being now at rest

                  In darkness and secure …

                  In secret where none saw me

                  Nor I beheld aught

                  Without light or guide,

   save that which burned in my heart.

WE BELONG TO THE CHURCH

The trouble is, for many people, the church seems more like a club than a living body seeking a loving union with God.   So, what does it mean to say: ‘we belong to the Church’?

Well, yes, there is great comfort in belonging to something.  To sense that we’re not alone but are part of a wider body of women and men.  Loneliness is a terrible thing: as someone once said to me, one of the reasons they came to Mass was to have someone hug them during the peace.  At 80 – a widow without children – there were few people who showed her intimacy. // Sometimes, people regard the Church as exclusive – a club for like-minded people.  But we know differently!   The Church is as full of differences as the people who belong.  And we’re not always going to see eye to eye.  Sometimes, we’re going to strongly disagree with each other.  As Bishop Rowan Williams wrote:

“If I conclude that my Christian brother or sister is damagingly mistaken in their decision, I accept for myself the brokenness of the Body (of Christ) that this entails.  These are my wounds, just as those who disagree with me are wounded by what they consider my failure or even betrayal.  …   How do I relate to them? … I don’t seek simply to condemn them, but to stand alongside them in my own prayer, not knowing how, in the strange economy of the Body, their life and mine may work together for our common salvation. …

And when I stand in God’s presence or at the Altar, they are part of the company I belong to.”

Thank God you, clearly, constantly welcome new people into your midst.  All are welcome, whether they’ve been coming for 80 years or just arrived.  We all belong, and our differences enrich the body. 

So, to those who have belonged for many years I ask: “How many new people have you got to know?  How are you making them know they belong?”  And, to those who have arrived more recently I ask: “How are you getting to know the wonder of becoming part of the Body of Christ?  How are you inviting him into your life?”

INVITING OTHERS INTO HIS REIGN

For the church does not exist simply to serve the needs of those who belong, but to be a herald of the kingdom – the reign – of God.  To be a sign of the depths to which God loves this, sometimes crazy, world.    When Jesus was dying on that cross which bore the inscription, ‘This is the King of the Jews’, love was crucified.  And because it was love that was being crucified it still embraced the stranger. To the dying thief who asked to be remembered in the new age, Christ replied: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”  A church that’s not reaching out with that same divine love is always in danger of being what some say we are – a club for like-minded people.   But the Divine Mystery we celebrate is not about what goes on behind closed doors; it’s about the way the Sacred Heart our King reaches out and enfolds the world in life and death and would draw all into His Reign.  

CONCLUSION

In realising our union with the saints of all ages within the body of Christ, you can take heart from belonging to an amazing, living, diverse Body.  And we will be known by that which we have become: a member of that Body in whom people must find the invisible God.   

Let me end with a prayer of that great Carmelite saint whom I quoted earlier – Teresa of Avila.

Lord Christ,
You have no body on earth but ours,
No hands but ours,
No feet but ours.
Ours are the eyes through which your compassion

must look out on the world.
Ours are the feet by which you may still
go about doing good.
Ours are the hands with which
you bless people now.
Bless our minds and bodies,
That we may be a blessing to others.