Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, May 9, 2010
Solemn Mass
By the Reverend Stephen Gerth
Year C: Acts 14:8-18; Psalm 67; Revelation 21:22–22:5; John 13:23-29
Saint Augustine of Hippo wrote many good lines. One of his best, in Latin or English, was, “Love separates the saints from the world.”[1] That’s almost the best possible summary of what is called the Long Discourse in John’s gospel, John’s extended account of Jesus’ words at the supper before the Passover. I say almost the best possible summary because as important and real as Jesus’ love for his disciples is, there is one greater reality that separates the saints from the world: the presence of the Holy Spirit. As one looks at the life of the Church, at its history, even in the New Testament, love is a far easier reality to embrace than the presence of God, much as more Christians are moved by Good Friday than they are by Easter Day.
I was surprised to learn that the doctrine of God’s presence among us – “theosis” is the technical theological term – officially scares some Anglicans. In 1976, the Moscow Agreed Statement of the Anglican-Orthodox dialogue recognized that some Anglicans find the concept “misleading and dangerous.”[2] Remember this is 1976, before all of the new Prayer Books, when week by week, in the service of Holy Communion, Anglicans would pray that we would be filled by God’s “grace and heavenly benediction, and made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we in him.”[3]
When I first started to attend the Episcopal Church and to think about the faith as an adult, the big questions that engaged the clergy and people in the parishes I attended in Charlottesville and in Chicago were not only things like what was the correct number of candles that should be on the altar and whether contemporary English should be used in our worship, but also questions of whether and how God was really present in the bread and wine of the Eucharist.
Very quickly I became part of the camp where the bread and wine really mattered. And I believe it still does. But thinking in this way has directed me, like it has directed many others, on a narrow spiritual path where God is more absent from us than he is present. The Eucharist was truly holy. In the Eucharistic Gifts Christ was truly present. I and almost everyone around me were just ordinary, sinful human beings. That’s pretty much how I have experienced Christianity all of my life.
I am not one of those who long to return to the past, the Church’s past. Time moves forward. But I think it is very helpful to know as much of the truth of our past as we can. I think it’s fair to know how some memories and traditions of Jesus get pushed to the side, how they become things the Church doesn’t talk about very often, very directly – the failure of Jesus to return to his disciples after his ascension is one example. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John and Paul all have to apologize and explain this away. Another example would be Jesus’ promise that the faithful could move mountains, heal, handle snakes safely. These were sufficiently remembered by the first Christians that they had to be included in the gospels but each of these has proved problematic since the gospels were written. I for one would not disagree that they are in no way central to what Christians know and believe.
But some important things can get lost too, almost reflexively. Pope John Paul II wrote in 2004 what his tradition calls an “apostolic letter” on the Eucharist. It was called, in English, “Lord, Stay With Us.”[4] His reflections began with the most important thing. He wrote, “There is no doubt that the most evident dimension of the Eucharist is that it is a meal. The Eucharist was born, on the evening of Holy Thursday, in the setting of the Passover meal. Being a meal is part of its very structure.”[5] He quickly leaves that word and heads for sacrifice, for Calvary. But I want to linger with the beginning.
I know the word “meal” does not appear in our Prayer Book rites for Holy Communion. My guess is the word doesn’t appear in the Roman Missal either. Since before the Reformation, it’s been easier for Western Christians to experience the Eucharist as sacrifice than supper. Of course, the Eucharist is a sacrifice of prayer and praise – I don’t have any problems remembering that. What I do find easy to forget is that the Eucharist is a meal, the Holy Communion, food.
With theosis – the presence of God among us – much the same thing has happened. It’s just hard for me to see, accept, God’s presence at work, living, in myself and others.
For years – and I’ve been ordained long enough for that to be an honest expression – I have read today’s gospel lesson primarily as preparation for Ascension Day. But I don’t think that begins to reach for the real importance of Jesus’ promise to his disciples that he and the Father would send the Holy Spirit to dwell with us and to led us into all truth.
I think today’s gospel, today’s Mass, is about us being fed so that you and I can grow in listening and understanding the Holy Spirit that God has sent to dwell in us.
+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
[1] Cited in Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John (xiii-xxi): Introduction, Translation and Notes (Garden City: Doubleday & Company, Inc.), 648.
[3] The Book of Common Prayer (1928),
[4] John Paul II, Apostolic Letter Mane Nobiscum Domine, 7 October 2004, n. 15. Italic emphasis is in the original document.
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