An Active Eucharist

As a liturgical theologian and an Episcopalian, I typically prefer communion prayers that are rooted in the ancient Eucharistic tradition and are led by ordained clergy. Despite my personal preference, I have come to believe that the lay-led communion service, as is typical in the Church of Christ, provides a unique integration into the very heart of Christian worship what the Roman Catholic Church has described as "active participation" of the laity based on an understanding of the priesthood of all believers. The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy emphasizes how central lay participation is: "The Church earnestly desires that all the faithful be led to that full, conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations called for by the very nature of the liturgy. Such participation by the Christian people as 'a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people' is their right and duty by reason of their baptism" (14).

While neither the Roman Catholic Church, the Episcopal Church, nor most other Christian denominations would authorize lay people to preside over the Eucharist by leading the Eucharistic prayers, many attempt to integrate lay participation into the Eucharist by utilizing the laity to help in the distribution of the elements (and perhaps other ways). And, yet, the practice of the Church of Christ more fully integrates the theological assertions articulated in the Roman Catholic statement above. In fact, this unique practice of allowing lay people to preside at Eucharist has a long American history (though it may not be ancient). I wrote a paper a couple of years back about how this practice is rooted in Alexander Campbell's own theological understanding of the priesthood of all believers in the American context (which includes values such as individualism and democratic representation). I believe that this personalized approach is necessary in a Church of Christ context, and that formal and traditional prayers would not be authentic in this context. This particular practice is a great example of inculturation of a central Christian practice in an American context.

However, one of the main problems with allowing laity to preside over Eucharist, is that there very often is a lack of necessary theological elements, such as the use of the words of institution or the fraction of the bread, among other things. These basic parts are often left out as one's experiential story dominates the bulk of the meditation.

I believe that what is necessary in the Church of Christ is a basic list of elements that always (or at least frequently) get incorporated into the personal meditation in an orderly fashion. This would be preferable to a set written prayer that most would find uncomfortable in this church tradition. Yet crafting such a meditation is difficult work, even for someone who deals frequently with theological language. What elements do you think ought to be considered indispensible?

I would like to point you to a post on my wife's blog in which she shares a communion meditation from a member of her church in Brooklyn. I honestly believe that this is one of the best examples of a communion meditation that retains some of the most necessary elements for the Eucharist, yet is crafted from one's own experience for a particular community: Eucharisteo.

Very well done, Regina!

What Is Finished?

"It is finished." (John 19:30)

Finished? What is finished? What does Jesus mean when he cries out, “It is finished”?

What you think these three words mean depends on who you think Jesus is. And Jesus is many different things to many different people. If you see Jesus primarily as a social revolutionary, perhaps he is referring to his vision of the end of Roman occupation. The Jews of the first century had been under foreign rule for hundreds of years, stuck between warring nations who used their land as a battle zone. The Jews looked forward to someone who would lead them in victory over their oppressors as Moses had once done. Maybe you think of Jesus—certainly it seems some of his followers did—as one of those Messiahs, eager to overthrow the Roman government. Maybe this was a war call, sounding loudly to the disciples to envision and enact the end of Roman oppression. ….And yet there was no relief, and even now there is no relief from wars and injustices.

Maybe you see Jesus speaking simply as a physically suffering man in this episode. For Christian doctrine claims that Jesus was fully human. He experienced pain and suffering as you and I do. In this sense, we may understand that Jesus was merely crying out in suffering, especially if coupled with the words “I thirst.” Jesus was saying, “enough is enough.” “I can’t take anymore.” Maybe it was a plea: a plea for release, rather than a statement. Or maybe he had finally reached a saturation point of pain and suddenly found himself in a new place, one where pain suddenly receded. I don’t know. Perhaps there is some truth to this interpretation. ….And yet we can’t help but suspect more.

Perhaps that deeper meaning is theological. Perhaps, as some Christians over the years have suggested, “It is finished” refers to Jesus’ work of atonement for the sins of humanity. Christian doctrine also teaches that Jesus is fully divine. Coupled with another of the seven words, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” Jesus is the conduit of forgiveness. The lamb led to slaughter. Perhaps in his divinity, Jesus sensed the very moment at which this was accomplished. ….And yet this precise formulation of a divine “plan” or theory is troublesome. Do we believe in a God who allows or even perpetrates evil with a “divine plan”? Is this the God Jesus called “Abba”... "Mommy"..."Daddy"?

Perhaps Jesus is making an existential statement of despair. Coupled with another of the seven words “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” “It is finished” might be the exclamation of an existentialist philosopher, something approaching “God is Dead.” Or at least this may be Jesus’ feeling that God’s protection is no longer with him on the cross and everything is over…he gives up. Perhaps we feel this way sometimes in our loneliest moments. ....And yet something drives us on… towards something greater than ourselves.

Whatever it means, Jesus says: “It is finished.” Jesus claims something is finished. But what fascinates me is that we humans don’t often experience much finality.

Instead, we live in constant flux. Endings are beginnings which become new endings which are also beginnings. Sometimes this is uncomfortable, or painful, or just plain exhausting.

There is little finality at school and at work. Waiting for a grade or the next promotion. Another project after this one. Another paper. Another day. More clients to deal with. Another job around the corner.

There is never finality in providing for ourselves or our families. We may have children and they come into our care…a great deal of responsibility. We help set them up in life, college, and find a first place to live. We live a large portion of our lives taking care of ourselves, thinking about our mortgage payments, and then saving for retirement. Will there ever be enough to retire on? Will there be something to leave to my kids? To my church? Can I leave something that will make a difference? And then as we’ve cared for ourselves and others, we get to a point where we return to the role of child; the roles reverse with our children, and they are suddenly taking care of us.

There is little finality in a relationship, even when relationships seem to end. Rather, there are many questions. What did I do wrong? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with him? What’s the matter with her? The questions and emotions endure past the supposed “end” of the relationship.

Even at the point of death we humans have a way of worrying beyond death. What is our legacy to society? Will our families and friends be taken care of? Or perhaps some wonder, “What about heaven and hell?” Even the grave carries no finality for us.

We long for completion and finality, yet we never reach the point where we can say, “It is finished.”

It is interesting that neither Matthew, Mark, nor Luke have Jesus say “It is finished.” But the writer of John requires completion, since this gospel begins with the very beginning. Matthew starts with Jesus’ human genealogy. Luke starts with Jesus’ birth and childhood. Mark ignores Jesus as a child altogether and starts at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. But John. John’s Jesus doesn’t begin as a baby or a radical follower of John the Baptist. John’s Jesus goes all the way back to the beginning. The author of John, obviously a theologian, says this Jesus was there with God in the beginning at creation. John’s gospel with its claim that Jesus is there at the beginning requires literary and theological symmetry. John reaches back into the primeval history, into the deep dark chaotic waters in which God’s Spirit first began to move. John reaches forward into the future, into the bright reality of finality and completion.

“It is finished” is the bookend to “In the beginning.” “It is finished” hearkens back to the creator God, the God who made all things good and calm. “It is finished” looks hopefully forward to the eschaton…to a vision of peace. Jesus seems to catch a glimpse of the end. This vision of the vast love of God brings a past and future into the present, in which we can see the fullness of humanity, even in the Now. This is the place where our projects are completed. Bills are paid. Debts are forgiven. Our children are provided for. Relationships are whole. The suffering in the world is assuaged. The wars are over. Answers are given. This is the work of God in Christ. “It is finished.” Amen.