Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday is a multi layered feast with several things going on it. It marks the beginning of the Easter Triduum, the services that make up the time where we liturgically celebrate and make present Christ’s betrayal, death, burial and resurrection. Today we heard in Exodus about the Passover, and we see how this all adds up to the new Passover for Christians. The Passover is a feast where the Israelites remember their deliverance from slavery. We are embarking on the feasts that mark our deliverance from our self imposed fractured relationship with God.

In the Gospel reading we hear about another scandalous act by Jesus. Jesus, the Son of God, humbles himself and becomes a servant to those who follow him. The washing of His disciple’s feet is a very intimate act. Imagine washing the feet of the person sitting next to you. It is act that can only be done out complete subservience, or as in Jesus’ case, total and complete love.

The third meaning of this feast is that one which resonates deepest with me. This is the day when our Lord Jesus Christ instituted the Most Holy Eucharist. To me, the Eucharist is the be all and end all of Christianity. Christian life flows to and from the altar where Christ’s Body and Blood are made present Sunday after Sunday.

Despite the fact that this is the most important feature of my life in Christ, it was actually one the last things to fall into place for me as I became an active Christian. The first time I went to church after my conversion, I did not go seeking nourishment in the Sacraments, I went there because I felt compelled to go there. That first Sunday I went to church I was not sure what to expect emotionally. I knew what would happen. I knew that there would be a celebration of the Eucharist. To me as a history buff, this made sense. I knew that for most of history Christian worship meant the Eucharist. I knew that the current practice of the Episcopal Church to celebrate the Eucharist every Sunday was not an innovation, but rather a return to what the was the practice of the church before the English Reformation, and even the practice of the Church for the first 50 years after the English Reformation.

Yet during that first service I was intellectually skeptical. The idea that a little wafer and some wine could somehow become the Body and Blood of Christ seemed like a silly medieval superstition to me. But for some reason as that first service progressed, I could feel the emotional pull of it all. I could feel how we were building up to the consecration and distribution of Communion. I went forward and received communion like everyone else, and by the end of that service, I could feel that something was different. I felt fed in a way that was completely new to me. I felt closer to God than I ever had before. Despite all these feelings in my gut, I could not intellectually come to grips with what I had experienced.

Now, at this first service I attended at Trinity Episcopal Church I was seated next to someone whom I noticed. I figured that if God got to drag me kicking and screaming into the Church, I should at least be able to chase after the cute girl sitting next to me…so I did. You get one guess as to who the cute girl was.

So I asked Minerva out for coffee under the auspices of talking about what the Episcopal Church is like for people our age. Well, we she accepted my invitation and we went for coffee and we actually discussed the Church, because I couldn’t think of anything else to start off our conversation with! One of the first things I asked her about was the Eucharist. I told her that it seemed to me that Communion must simply be a bare symbol, a representation of what happened at the Last Supper. Now I knew that when I received communion it felt like far more than just a bare symbol, but I just couldn’t get myself to admit that. Minerva told me without hesitation that as far as she was concerned, it was what the priest said it was, the Body and Blood of Christ.

Now I’m sure I argued with her about this for a bit, but I was actually relieved to hear her say that. Hearing her say that it was actually the Body and blood of Christ made me think what I was feeling might not actually be all that crazy. Her statement validated the emotional pull I felt on Sunday.

So I started really thinking about the Eucharist intellectually. The Prayer Book and the catechism in the back of the Prayer Book say that the Body and Blood and Christ are made present at the Eucharist, but they are a bit vague and leave room for the belief in a metaphorical idea of Christ’s Body and Blood. Now one of the things that had attracted me to Episcopal Church was its understanding of the importance of the early Church and Church Fathers, so I went to the Fathers to see what they thought. It turns out that the early Church and the Fathers whole heartedly believed that the Eucharist really made Christ’s Body and Blood present at the Eucharist. St. Justin Martyr, who lived in the late 100s said: “This food we call the Eucharist, of which no one is allowed to partake except one who believes that the things we teach are true, and has received the washing for forgiveness of sins and for rebirth, and who lives as Christ handed down to us. For we do not receive these things as common bread or common drink; but as Jesus Christ our Savior being incarnate by God's Word took flesh and blood for our salvation, so also we have been taught that the food consecrated by the Word of prayer which comes from him, from which our flesh and blood are nourished by transformation, is the flesh and blood of that incarnate Jesus.” (First Apology, Chap 66)

Now I had some intellectual backing for my emotional pull to Eucharist. The idea that Christ was really present was not a medieval superstition, but in fact a belief that goes back to the early Church.

So now I had the tradition backing this understanding, and the reading we heard from today in no way implies that the Eucharist was a metaphor. All that was left in my good Anglican approach was reasoning. So I thought about the Eucharist for awhile until a revelation hit me. I believed that Jesus was the Son of God, born of a Virgin. I believed the Jesus was crucified and died, and actually rose from the dead three days later. The Eucharist was my stumbling block? It didn’t add up. How could I say that God could break the rules of birth and mortality, but wasn’t capable or willing to perform this one act? It seemed to me, that if I really believed in some of the miraculous events of Christ’s life and His Church, I really had to believe them all. Picking and choosing made no sense. Jesus raising Lazarus is no easier to believe than Him making the bread and wine become his Body and Blood. They both defy rational human understanding. They are both miracles, understood by faith. The God who called out to me and lead me to His Church is a God of miracles. This is how my intellect fell into place. I intellectually realized that Christianity was all about miracles. I knew beyond a doubt that God had miraculously changed my cold atheist heart to the heart of a believer. So I realized that accepting the miracle of the Eucharist took no extra effort, it simply made logical sense. A miracle is a miracle.

But I have to tell you, that after a few months of weekly participation, the whole quest to intellectually prove to myself what the Eucharist was seemed silly. I knew what I was feeling. I knew that I could feel heaven and earth meet at the altar on Sunday. I knew that piece of bread in my hand felt like far more than bread. It felt like healing. It felt like love. It felt like food to satisfy a hunger I couldn’t explain. It was the piece of the puzzle that fit the God shaped hole in my heart. It was the Body of Christ.

In a few moments we will be privileged once again to receive one of the greatest gifts ever given to mankind. The gift of receiving our Lord Jesus Christ’s Body and Blood. Then when we will be reminded at what cost the gift came to us. We will strip the altars making present liturgically the betrayal by Judas. The Word came into the world, but the world knew Him not. He came to his own home, and his people received not. He received betrayal from us all.