You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Holy Communion’ tag.
While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. — Matthew 26:26-28
Over the next 24 hours, many Christians all over the world will be commemorating the Last Supper of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Past Churchmouse Campanologist posts on this subject include ‘Maundy Thursday: One of you will betray Me’ and ‘What is the Triduum?’
Today, I shall continue this year’s Holy Week posts by featuring another sermon from the Reformed (Calvinist) pastor, the Revd P G Mathew of Grace Valley Christian Center in Davis, California, ‘Passover and the Lord’s Supper, Part Two’. Mr Mathew takes his text from Matthew 26:17-30. Emphases mine below.
The Lord’s Supper is taught in four places in the New Testament–Matthew 26, Mark 14, Luke 22 and 1 Corinthians 11 … In this text we see how our Lord Jesus ended the old covenant and established the new covenant by abolishing the Passover celebration, which was based on the sacrifice of prescribed animals, and instituting the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.
The Lord’s Supper is known by various names, the origin of which Mr Mathew explains:
In 1 Corinthians 11 we find the phrase kuriakon deipnon , meaning the Lord’s dinner or the Lord’s supper. God is the host and we are the guests, and when we come to his table, he feeds us that which nourishes our life. This sacrament is also called the breaking of bread, as we read in Acts 2, and holy communion, meaning a time when we commune with the triune God and his church. It is called the Lord’s table and the eucharist, which comes from a Greek word, eucharisteo , meaning to give thanks, as found in Matthew 26:27. When Jesus took the cup, he gave thanks.
As we know, this supper occurred during Passover week. Today’s Jews prepare for and celebrate this festival the way their ancestors did during Old Testament times and Christ’s lifetime. The women spend days cleaning their houses of leaven. Today, that may even mean moving certain home appliances to the garage, as I saw in a documentary a few years ago about the orthodox Jews in Manchester. It is a busy time and a prayerful one.
The main dinner is the seder, led by the male head of the household. Below, Mr Mathew describes it and how Jesus shaped His supper with the apostles for the people of the New Covenant:
certain elements were assembled, including an unblemished lamb, sacrificed and roasted, unleavened bread, wine, green vegetables, bitter herbs, and a bowl of salt water.
When the meal was ready, the father or master would pronounce a blessing upon the festival and on the first cup of wine. All would drink from the first cup, and then the youngest person would ask “What does this ceremony mean to you?” The father would explain how the Passover commemorated the Israelites’ redemption from Egyptian bondage by the Lord through a blood sacrifice. Next, all would drink the second cup of wine, and sing Psalms 113-115, the first part of the Hallel psalms (Psalms 113-118).
When the meal was served, the leader would bless the bread by blessing God: “Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.” The third cup of wine would be drunk after the leader pronounced a blessing through a prayer of thanksgiving which went something like this: “Blessed are thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine.” This is where we see the word eucharist, or thanksgiving, used. Then the participants would sing the rest of the Hallel psalms, Psalms 116-118, and drink the fourth cup of wine.
The idea of drinking four cups of wine is based on the fourfold blessings found in Exodus 6:6-7. There we read, “Therefore, say, to the Israelites, ‘I am the Lord,’” and then we read the first blessing, “‘and I will bring you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians. . .’” The second blessing was, “‘I will free you from being slaves to them. . .’” The third blessing was “‘I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with acts of judgment.’” We must note here that the third cup represented redemption, and this was the cup in the Lord’s Supper that Jesus Christ blessed and gave to his disciples. The fourth blessing was, “‘I will take you as my own people and I will be your God.’” This speaks of the presence of God with his church. Of this cup Jesus said, “I will not drink of it until I drink it anew in the kingdom,” meaning when he comes again. When Christ comes again, the fourth blessing of having God with us will be realized fully.
Mr Mathew describes exactly how the Last Supper unfolded between Jesus and His apostles. This also explains the priest’s or minister’s prayer of consecration which he recites during today’s services:
In Matthew 26:26 we are told that Jesus acted “while they were eating,” meaning during the Passover meal. Jesus took a piece of bread, probably a thin sheet of bread like that commonly found in the Middle East. Having blessed God, he broke it, and as we already noted, the usual prayer of blessing for the bread was “Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.” Here we see that blessing the bread did not mean blessing the inanimate substance of bread, but rather, blessing God who gave the bread.
Next, Jesus broke the bread into pieces. We assume here that Judas, the son of perdition, had already left. Some scholars say he was still present, and if that is true, he was incurring judgment on himself as he partook of the Holy Communion. After breaking the bread, Jesus gave it to his disciples. In this action we see salvation coming from Jesus Christ. In the act of his giving the bread, we see the idea of grace, and in giving it to each one, we see particular salvation, that Jesus loves and died for each one of us.
Therefore, Holy Communion is not to be taken lightly, nor is it to be given to everyone who attends as a sign of hospitality. Holy Communion is not akin to snacks and soda. The minimum requirements should be Baptism and being of the age of reason (Catholics would say this was age 7, but many Protestants would counter that a child should be older in order to fully understand the importance of the Sacrament). However, many churches rightly restrict Communion to members of their own denomination. You can read more on the reasons why in ‘A case against universal Communion’. People who receive the Sacrament when they should not — because of unbelief or serious sin — are putting themselves at risk.
St Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 11:27-34:
27 Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord. 28 Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. 29For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself. 30That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. 31 But if we judged ourselves truly, we would not be judged. 32But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world. 33So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for one another— 34 if anyone is hungry, let him eat at home—so that when you come together it will not be for judgment.
Christians have heard many times Jesus’s words pronounced over the bread: ‘This is My body’. But what was Jesus telling the apostles and how do we interpret Him through Holy Communion today?
What Jesus Christ was really saying was that the Passover was fulfilled in him. This was a surprising statement for the disciples, because this statement was not part of the Passover ritual. But in saying this Jesus was announcing that the Old Testament was ended, that the old covenant was coming to a close, and that the new had begun.
What did Jesus mean when he said, “This is my body”? The Roman Catholic church would say that because of the use of the copula estin , meaning “is,” Jesus was identifying his body with the bread. They say that when he spoke of the bread, he was speaking about his literal body. This is the doctrine of transubstantiation. It means that when Jesus said “This is my body,” the bread became his literal physical body. So today the church teaches that when a priest says, “This is my body,” during the Mass, the bread converts into the literal, physical body of Jesus Christ …
However:
Jesus made similar statements in the Bible. In John 10:9 he said, “I am the gate.” Now it would make no sense to insist that there is identity here. Jesus is not saying that he is a literal, physical gate. In John 15 he said, “I am the true vine.” Again, we do not insist there has to be identity that Jesus Christ is vine. He is not a literal, physical gate or a literal, physical vine. In John 6:35 he said, “I am the bread of life,” but he is not literal bread. In Revelation 22:16 we read, “I am the root and offspring of David,” but we do not literally believe that Jesus Christ is a root. So you see, it makes no sense to interpret Jesus’ words to mean that the bread becomes his literal body. There is no magic, yet the Roman Catholic church has maintained this idea of transubstantiation for many years.
In Luke 22:19 and 1 Corinthians 11:23 it says, “Do this in remembrance of me.” This phrase also ought to tell us something. Would Jesus say to do this in remembrance of him if he was physically, literally being consumed by the worshipers? No, the reason we ought to remember him is that the Son of God took upon himself a physical body, and in that physical body Jesus Christ is now on the right hand of God the Father. He is not with us physically; he is away, and that is why we remember him. Not only that, when you read other passages we are told to continue observing this sacrament of holy communion “until he comes” (1 Cor. 11:26). That should tell us that Jesus Christ is not physically present …
The Holy Spirit causes us who are believers by faith to commune with the risen Christ, and there is real presence of Christ that we experience through the ministry of the Spirit–by faith.
What, then, of the cup — the wine he gave to the apostles? Historically:
It was called the cup of redemption, the cup of salvation, the cup of blessing, the cup of the new covenant. Jesus gave thanks to God for the cup, gave it to each disciple and said, “Drink from it, all of you.”
Then Jesus said, “This is my blood of the covenant. . .” What does that “blood of the covenant” mean? We find this expression in Exodus 24:6-8: “Moses took half of the blood and put it in bowls, and the other half he sprinkled on the altar. Then he took the Book of the Covenant and read it to the people.” He told people that they should obey God and keep the terms of the covenant. What did the people say? “They responded, ‘We will do everything the Lord has said; we will obey.’ Moses then took the blood, sprinkled it on the people and said, ‘This is the blood of the covenant that the Lord has made with you in accordance with all these words.’”
The blood of the covenant was sprinkled on the people. We find this idea of sprinkling with blood also in the book of Leviticus. When the priests were consecrated, they were sprinkled with blood. When lepers were cleansed, they were to be sprinkled with blood. So the idea of sprinkling with the blood of the covenant means cleansing and consecration to the service of God. When Moses sprinkled the blood on the people, he was consecrating and cleansing them on the basis of their affirmation that they would obey the covenant.
Jesus came to institute a New Covenant with the people of God:
In the parallel passage in Luke 22 we read in verse 20, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.” What is the new covenant? In Jeremiah 31:31-34 we read, “‘The time is coming,’ declares the Lord, ‘when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah,’” and we see that happening in the institution of the Lord’s Supper in Matthew 26 …
God said he would make a new covenant in which his own Son would obey God’s law perfectly. He would accomplish redemption for us and give it to us freely. This is called the covenant of grace, the new covenant, as we read in Luke 22 and 1 Corinthians 11. The new covenant was accomplished by Christ himself who fully obeyed God’s law. And in anticipation of his death on the cross, Jesus Christ offered his disciples the bread and the wine, symbolizing salvation.
Christ came to save sinners. He offered His body and blood as the perfect atonement. Mr Mathew explains why the Reformed do not believe it to be a universal one. This does not, incidentally, imply it is insufficient, but that it is not efficacious for all:
Jesus said the blood of the covenant would be “poured out.” He was speaking about the violent death that he was about to experience. Within twenty-four hours of saying this, Jesus Christ was buried. After he was arrested, beaten and crucified, there came a mighty flow of blood poured out in behalf of many. He was speaking about substitutionary atonement, which is at the heart of Passover–salvation through the death of an animal whose blood is sprinkled upon the doorposts. Jesus said his blood would be poured out “for many.” This refers to particular redemption. In other words, Jesus Christ did not die to save everyone. Universal redemption is a popular idea but it is not a biblical idea. Christ loved the church and gave himself for her, meaning there is particular redemption for many, but not all. That does not mean the number of people saved will be small. No, Jesus said many. All the elect of God shall be saved. From all tribes and nations, the redeemed of the Lord shall come.
Mr Mathew closes with practical reflections on Holy Communion. Sometimes, in the rush of daily life, we find it difficult to focus fully on what we are about to receive at the Lord’s Table. Below are good points which are easy-to-remember reflections in the moments before we partake of His Body and Blood:
First, Christ is the host–this Christ to whom is given all authority in heaven and on earth, as we read in Matthew 28:18. It is his table. Now, if that is true, aren’t we glad that he invited us? It is he who invited us individually … We can come to his table and eat with him.
Second, Christ is the mediator of the new covenant. If that is the case, he has made us partners to whom his blessings flow. In John 15:5 he said, “I am the vine; you are the branches” … First we are invited by him, and then he makes us partners with him. What confidence this gives us!
Third, Jesus Christ is the Lamb slain on Golgotha, and his outpoured blood cleanses us from all our sin and makes us whiter than snow. Think about that. In Isaiah 1:18 we read, “‘Come now, let us reason together,’ says the Lord. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.’” Jesus died and shed his blood, which has cleansed us.
Fourth, this King of the universe is also our brother and friend. He said, “I call you my friends.” As our brother and friend, he daily shows us how to live for his glory. He is our older brother.
Finally, as the source of all spiritual blessings, it is in Jesus Christ that we have been blessed with all spiritual blessings. Even now he fills us, not with grief, but with joy and gladness by his presence. Did he die to make us miserable? No, he died to make us happy. In Psalm 51 David asked God to blot out all his transgressions and cleanse him, that the bones which God had crushed would rejoice and be glad. We need to understand that Christ died to remove our sadness and misery and to put an end to all our grief. No wonder St. Paul could write from prison to the Philippians: “Rejoice; I say again, rejoice.”
May we look on this holy Sacrament in a new light, not only on Maundy Thursday but each time we have the honour of receiving it. It is our life and sustenance in Him through grace by faith.
As much as I missed Cranmer’s blog during his hiatus earlier this year, I missed commenter D Singh’s apposite and conservative commentary even more. I’m happy to report that both have been back on form for a couple of months now.
I rather wish that D Singh had his own blog. If you’re reading this, Mr Singh, please give it serious consideration!
Mr Singh and another commenter, Oswin, described today’s Anglican Sunday services perfectly in the comments of Cranmer’s post, ‘Announcing the Society of Cardinal Cranmer’. The post and the excerpts from their comments are somewhat unrelated, so without any further ado, this is why Anglican churches are so dashed empty on Sundays. (Emphases mine throughout.)
First, from D Singh:
I attend every Sunday my local Church of England service. I have listened patiently to my faith being questioned from the pulpit; St Paul’s teachings on sexuality rubbished; his authority questioned and blamed for disputes that rumble on down through the centuries to this day. I have even listened to a sermon that justified polygamy. Through all this I have sat and listened in silence.
Children are permitted to run around, shriek and wail to the point where I cannot even hear what the preacher is saying. We are often asked (Harvest Sunday was a prime example) to sing songs that do not even mention God (to whom then are we singing in praise of?): it infantilises us.
I am sure you understand why men’s patience snaps and they walk away.
The congregation is elderly … The youngsters out in the public square do not want to come into church because what is preached from the pulpit they can read in The Guardian and listen to on the street corner. I often see some of them secretly drinking in the concealed alleyways of the village … Their hearts long to hear someone tell them that life is worth living because Someone died for them. It is unlikely that they will hear that from the pulpit: because we are modernising to attract the young. Right? Right.
They long to hear something different to that which is being blared out from the pulpit; the TV, the CD and the DVD. They eat hamburgers like there is no tomorrow; and yet they are still hungry. They drink cans of lager [beer] until they are stupefied; and yet they are still thirsty. They have sex frequently with one girl after another and like Mick Jagger they can’t get satisfaction. They have freedom – but they are enslaved by ‘isms’.
I am sure you understand why men’s patience snaps and they walk away.
‘The various moral and theological and sociological disputes of the day, however progressively resolved with ecclesiastical connivance, have nothing to say to this spiritual hunger, which is not assuaged by legalized abortion and homosexuality, solaced by contraception, or relieved by majority rule. Nor will it take comfort in the thought that God is dead, or that mankind has come of age, or even in ecumenical negotiations for writing off Papal Infallibility against the validity of Anglican Orders. The only means of satisfying it remains that bread of life which Jesus offered, with the promise that those who are of it should never hunger again. The promise stands.’
Malcolm Muggeridge
I am sure you understand why men’s patience snaps and they walk away.
Now to Oswin’s response to D Singh:
I recognise only too well the substance of your opening paragraphs, indeed of its entirety.
A visit to any of my local churches is akin to that of our local public libraries: wee children screeching and hurtling aboot the place, annoying the elderly and causing disaffection amongst those few who are held to leash.
Milk-sop hymns (?) and the facile ‘Laura Ashley’ Order of Service, together with the wan, prescribed responses, all serve as a pallid, bloodless effusion that irks, rather than satisfies…
As with the ‘National Curriculum’ we are fed a ‘one size fits all’ uniform drab mismash of meagre fare. We are neither challenged, enlightened or inspired.
For me, a typical attendance is marked by degrees of irritation, annoyance, grumpiness, down-right anger, lip-curling cynicism and the occasional inclination to do actual bodily harm to other communicants!
In my own defence, I do not recall feeling thus in my earlier years … at times a wee smidgin of boredom perhaps; but that in its self, is character-forming, yes?
I am increasing inclined towards solitary visits; it is less fraught, and less likely to end in my eventual arrest!
Come to think of it, it is not too dissimilar from my experience of village pubs these days; wherever one might go, the same sub-standard beer, sold to a dwindling and irksome clientele … oh Lord, have mercy!
The frustration comes in when you know, as with politics and public policy, there is not one thing you can do about it! Your vicar couldn’t care less. In fact, he’d be happier if ‘troublemakers’ and ‘divisive’ members didn’t attend Sunday service. So, a number of former churchgoers in England spend a leisurely Sunday morning at home; a few of them pray privately and read the Bible.
Like Oswin, I haven’t ever recalled feeling so irritated with church as I have in the last several years. I, too, used to look forward to going.
Some of us have tried mid-week services, which are no better. Often, they are worse. The elderly bring in bottles of water to drink. The New Agers come in to do exegesis on a psalm the vicar chose which wasn’t even suggested for the day. ‘This is a psalm of two halves,’ I remember one saying. ‘It’s like climate change.’ What? The vicar nods politely — because we are all asked to contribute and affirm each other. Does the vicar then do an exegesis? No, he does not. He says, ‘Yes, this is a very depressing psalm. Does anyone else have anything to say about it?’ No, we do not. So, those of us who are interested must return home and spend the next hour checking out Bible commentaries to find out what the psalm actually meant. Why should we have to do this? Isn’t that what a church and a vicar are for?
Then there are the times when some of the women priests taking the service decide to use supermarket rolls in place of the wafers. They think it lends authenticity. (In which case, wouldn’t pitta bread be preferable?) All I can envision is the leftover crumbs of consecrated bread being thrown out for the birds. This is why we use wafers; any leftovers are reverently returned to the sacristy for home or hospital Communion visits. Every time I see a breadroll being broken up, I always wish to ask afterwards, ‘What exactly did the Consecration mean to you when you recited that prayer? Does Holy Communion mean so little to you that you have to use a supermarket roll?’
As I have written before, many Anglican clergy are former atheists. Many are also steeped in New Age practices. Many preach frequently about social justice. Many came of age in 1968 and consider that the apogee of Western Civilisation. Many despise the West. Many take their holidays in Third World countries so they can have a look at the poor, whom they have no real interest in helping, because then, they wouldn’t have a reason for feeling like guilty Europeans. Many are deeply committed to resolving climate change.
But why don’t they care about spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ? Find out starting Monday.
I am sure you understand why men’s patience snaps and they walk away.
I am increasing inclined towards solitary visits … oh Lord, have mercy!
Yesterday’s post featured John MacArthur’s views on the modern church. Whilst he was discussing today’s Evangelical churches, many of us would nod our heads in agreement at his assessment and clarion call for biblical truths and clear teaching.
Today, let’s look at the 2008 statistics for the Presbyterian Church (USA), or PCUSA. This is the mainstream — and very much politically-oriented, man-centred – Presbyterian Church in the United States and many onlookers equate it with American Presbyterianism in general. However, a number of smaller but more orthodox Presbyterian denominations exist, e.g. PCA and OPC.
Back in June 2010, a few surveys about the PCUSA’s beliefs and practices were published. We examine them here.
First, to the ‘Religious and Demographic Profile of Presbyterians, 2008′, based on 5,188 PCUSA members, elders and ordained ministers (including specialised clergy who serve as chaplains, seminary professors and counsellors):
- The PCUSA is a solidly middle-class church. Over 90% of these Presbyterians are white and have an average annual household income of $80,000. Two-thirds have at least a Bachelor’s degree. (p. 6 — PDF page number)
- Two-fifths of these Presbyterians live in the South. Twenty-seven per cent live in the Midwest. The remainder are split between the Northeast and the West. (p. 6)
- Most clergy (50% of pastors and 65% of specialised clergy) are Democrats, whereas less than a third of elders (29%) and members (31%) are. (p. 6)
- Nearly two-thirds of PCUSA members are women (64%), although 73% of pastors are men. Average member age is 60; average clergy age is mid-50s. (p. 6)
- Over half (51%) of female ministers and 62% of specialised clergy consider themselves theologically liberal. By contrast, only 23% of male ministers and 45% of male specialised clergy would put themselves in this category. (p. 6)
- Women comprise 27% of pastors and 45% of specialised clergy. (p. 18)
- Eighty-seven per cent of elders attend church weekly or nearly every week. Sixty-five per cent of members attend with the same frequency. (p. 7)
- Only two-fifths of current PCUSA members and elders grew up as Presbyterians, although 60% of pastors and specialised clergy did. (p. 7)
- The largest intake from other churches includes Methodists (16% of members, 15% of elders) and Baptists (10% and 11%, respectively). (p. 7)
- Seventy-seven per cent of elders believe Christ will return to earth one day. Only 68% of members believe this. (p. 9)
- Annual median church contributions as a percentage of income are 8% for pastors, 4% for specialised clergy, 4% for elders and 3% for members. In general, the amount donated increased with the amount of time spent in church-related activities outside of worship. (p. 10)
- Only 82% of pastors and 75% of specialised clergy pray privately as frequently as daily (or almost daily). This compares with 67% of elders and 59% of members. (p. 11)
- Only 77% of pastors and 65% of specialised clergy say grace daily or almost daily. Only 49% of elders and 42% of members do so. (p. 11)
- Less than half (45%) of specialised clergy believe ’the only absolute truth for humankind is in Jesus Christ’. This contrasts with 66% of pastors, 68% of elders and 60% of members. (p. 12)
These figures will come as little surprise to those who believe the PCUSA has lost its way. This is very much a baby-boomer oriented denomination in many ways. The survey had no questions about specific aspects from or about the confessions of faith, incidentally.
However, this next survey, ‘The Sacraments’, also based on 2008 findings from approximately 2,200 participants, gives us a better portrait of PCUSA beliefs:
- More ordained (32% each of ministers and specialised clergy) than laypeople (8% of members and 10% of elders) would prefer the Supper to be celebrated weekly. (p. 1)
- At least half of the participants from each group — including 60% of pastors and 58% of specialised clergy – believe that ’children who have not been baptized should definitely or probably be permitted to participate in Lord’s Supper celebrations’. Similar figures were polled with regard to reception of the Supper by unbaptised adults. (p. 2)
Then, there is ‘The US Congregational Life Survey: Fastest Growing Presbyterian Churches’ from 2001. Again, this focuses on PCUSA congregations — more newly-established and growing versus long-established and static or decreasing congregations:
- Worship service elements make no reference to Bible-based preaching or the Psalms. (p. 4)
- More growing churches have started ‘seeker-friendly’ services (14%) as opposed to established PCUSA churches (10%). (p. 6)
- Interestingly, those in growing churches are more theologically conservative than in other PCUSA congregations. Only 40% of those in growing churches say that all religions are equal pathways to the truth. This compares with 51% of other PCUSA congregations. (p. 11)
This survey also offers an interesting PCUSA statistic (p. 12) — emphasis mine:
Since 1983, the denomination has experienced a net loss of 679,259 members, or almost 22%. The average congregation size (mean) fell from 268 members to 221 in that period.
On the Puritan Board (hat-tip to them, by the way, for the first PDF), a discussion took place about PCUSA churches leaving the denomination to either go independent or become affiliated with the Evangelical Presbyterian Church (EPC). The EPC is offering a transitional, trial period to certain PCUSA churches, which are listed at Layman Online.
A member of a more conservative Presbyterian church, Scott, explains why some PCUSA churches wish to be disassociated and why they are moving towards a possible affiliation with the EPC (emphasis mine):
… the large majority of particular churches departing are going to the EPC at present. A (very) few, though, are making their way into biblical, reformed denominations like ARP, PCA and OPC.
The EPC is graciously providing a generous transitional arrangement to see if these churches are fit for that denomination, or if the EPC is a fit for them.
Likely, it is refreshing to find a “safe” place where they are not having to fight for the most basic doctrines of Christianity or against a leftist political agenda.
I suspect the failure of EPC to deal with serious doctrinal issues that would define it as a confessional denomination will result in the same splits and divisions as in the past within Presbyterianism. Avoiding a clear confession and unity around that will likely result in a substantial number of these congregations will gradually migrate back home to some of the biblical reformed Presbyterian denominations — if they remain faithful.
Right now, they [the PCUSA churches] are coming out of a situation of having to fight for the deity of Christ, and not paying tithe money to terrorist organizations (really).
With that kind of background of fighting those kind of battles, they have not had time much to contend for a reformed theology and practice, nor define themselves to the degree of a Confession.
They [the EPC] have developed somewhat of a conservative culture, a more independent mode of operation, but not really a reformed faith based on things like a complete Calvinist soteriology, covenant theology, connectional polity, or church discipline based on a clear doctrinal confession.
And this is what John MacArthur means about the importance of being vigilant about biblical and doctrinal truths.
The Anglicans at Stand Firm have also discussed the PCUSA’s plight.
This blog started out with one main objective, which was to promote orthodox Christianity in all its forms.
During the first year, it had a substantial amount of Catholic content, much of which I posted for personal reasons. In its second year, as Catholic readers — commenters, at least — appear to be fewer, my posts on that church have similarly diminished. However, that is not the only reason the Catholic posts are fewer.
During the past few months I have reflected prayerfully on the Catholic Church, particularly what has been going on with clergy and parishoners alike. Much of what I see and read would appear to go against what I was brought up with. In fact, some of these scandals, smaller parish practices and perspectives which the laity hold are, well, quite offensive to Christianity. That’s only my opinion, granted, and who am I but one of thousands of Christian bloggers. Pretty insignificant — a gnat on the worldwide web windscreen.
The final straw were the comments from Catholics regarding a few posts in the sola Scriptura series. It was hard to tell whether these were based on ignorance or stubbornness, but they were breathtaking and, in a way, frightening in their arrogance.
Privately, I have found out about Catholic priests who are removing confessionals and conferring the Sacrament of Confirmation (to be done only by a bishop), all the while piously proclaiming that Holy Mother Church must be obeyed in all things. Well, if they cannot obey Church teachings, how can their parishoners?
With regard to conduct by the laity, certain things have come to my attention which I won’t mention here. They all involve hypocrisy disguised as piety. Some involve the committing of sins in Christ’s name. Some involve making excuses for committing sins of the flesh. During my time as a Catholic — well into adulthood – these sins of the flesh were universally recognised as mortal sins, which required going to Confession prior to receiving Communion. One was meant to stop committing them. Now, they seem to have been downgraded through the years to ‘serious’ sin, which appears to carry less of a penalty. Priests don’t mind if you receive Communion without having confessed these sins beforehand. So, the parishoner who is told they don’t need to confess them walks away confused. Other Catholics apply local or cultural norms rather than scriptural ones to get around these sins, which the New Testament says deny us the kingdom of Heaven. But, who cares about various verses of the New Testament, right? ‘I have the authority of my priest and my culture to determine my behaviour.’
Therefore, this blog will carry substantially less Catholic content in future. I have no ill wishes towards the Catholic Church, in fact, quite the contrary. If it falls to worldwide persecution, we Protestants are in danger of suffering the same fate.
As always, Catholics are welcome to visit and comment. I shall leave links to some of the Catholic sites and resources for any readers who wish to look at them for research or comparison’s sake.
This is just to let you know how the blog is evolving and that I shall be using the ‘Catholic’ tag less often. That is all. Thank you.
Normal service resumes tomorrow.
On July 30, 2010, Churchmouse Campanologist carried a post, ‘Methodist minister to start Communion by Twitter’.
In it I explained why a Communion — or Supper — service could not be performed validly in a remote context. Thankfully, the Methodist Church of Great Britain agreed and the Revd Tim Ross conducted a prayer service instead.
My thanks to the libertarian-minded blogger Dick Puddlecote (possible language alert) for forwarding me the article from the Guardian, ‘Tweeting God’. The journalist who wrote it, Karen Burke, works as a media officer for the Methodist Church in Britain. She explains (emphases mine throughout):
Take, for instance, the Eucharist as a corporate celebration involving the fourfold action of taking, blessing, breaking and giving the elements as well as the oversight of an act of worship. Communion via Twitter would disperse these acts and possibly lead to multiple simultaneous acts of celebration rather than one universal act. It could even privatise Communion, departing radically from Church doctrine. The argument against this is that the Spirit is everywhere present: Grace unites the body of dispersed participants rendering physical distance immaterial.
In a discussion of consecration and the possibility of greater lay involvement in distributing the Supper a decade ago, the Methodist Church of Great Britain’s Faith and Order Statements say (pp. 148-149):
The entire drama is the consecration and guarantees the validity. But the more the president’s part in the service is reduced and the weaker the representative symbolism becomes, the more people will be inclined to look for particular elements within the service that will guarantee its identity. That is why some people insist that, while others may lead parts of the prayer, the president must say the Words of Institution. We have observed that the isolation of these words from the rest of the Great Prayer is theologically undesirable. But such an isolation is actively encouraged by any reduction of the President’s part of the the Great Prayer. It is worthy of note that the Faith and Order Committee regularly receives comments and requests for advice, not only from those who favour more lay participation at this point, but in much greater numbers from people who are anxious about the involvement of lay people in the distribution of the bread and wine and the saying, by these lay people, of the words that accompany the distribution. These latter practices can be justified; but what is already a significant anxiety will undoubtedly be made worse if people other than the president lead parts of the Great Prayer.
Rev’d Ross, in his blogpost, ‘Remote Communion — A Storm in the Communion Cup?’ moves into the realm of error:
The chief allegation came from one corner of the Methodist Church who claimed it was “not a valid communion”. The main objection relates to what I would call “Remote Communion”. This is where those receiving bread and wine do so at the same time as but are not located in the same place as the celebrant – they take their own bread and wine after the (broadcast) communion prayer. This, it was said, made the act of communion disembodied …
If Christ is with all believers everywhere, there is no particular reason why all the elements and participants in a communion must be in the same room. To say God’s blessing is restricted to the physical space in which the presiding minister is present places limitations on the working of God’s grace and power. It also suggests the power of God to bless His people in Communion can ONLY work through an intermediary – which I believe is contrary to the teaching of the Bible.
I had to have a nice cup of tea and a sit-down after reading that last sentence. Oh, my. Where does it say in the New Testament we can all consecrate our own Sacrament? If you know, please write in.
Granted, neither the New Testament authors, nor the Doctors of the early Church nor the Reformers could have foreseen the possibility of Twitter Communion. However, Christian denominations all agree on the importance of church membership, corporate worship in one place as well as an ordained minister consecrating the elements. Anyone who thinks otherwise is debasing Communion, the Body and Blood of Christ and ‘the sacrifice and one oblation’ that Jesus made of Himself.
Yes, television has broadcast church services for shut-ins for decades, however, no responsible adult watching those would even think of grabbing a piece of bread and a thimbleful of wine and participate when those being filmed were receiving consecrated bread and wine.
Back to Revd Ross. He apparently didn’t even okay his Twitter Communion with church authorities, as he explains:
Whilst I have not been absolutely forbidden to perform the Communion on Twitter, British Methodist Church authorities have strongly urged me to cancel it … Holding a Twitter Communion before an official conversation has taken place could delay or even jeopardise the tentative steps the Church is taking in this direction.
It was never my intention to be controversial much less confrontational. The whole point of Twitter Communion was to offer the Christians around the world the opportunity to step beyond their differences, to meet in fellowship and love and to celebrate the common-union we all share through Christ’s body and blood.
Despite his protestations to the contrary, Revd Ross appears to be the sort of clergyman who is an attention-seeker wishing to make a name for himself. Instead of Twitter Communion, he tweeted a brief service for Christian unity, in which he took it upon himself to rewrite the Lord’s Prayer.
‘What’s so wrong with that?’ you may ask. ‘After all, many denominations have modern versions of the Lord’s Prayer.’ Yes, including those where God is a woman and the words have been watered down so as to be nearly meaningless and difficult to commit to memory.
For almost 2,000 years, Christians faithfully prayed the words Christ Himself gave us in the Lord’s Prayer (Matt. 6:9-13). He did so in response to the apostles’ request, ‘Lord, teach us to pray’. This is the most important prayer any Christian can recite.
But to make it acceptable to all and sundry, Revd Ross distorted Christ’s words and composed this alternative prayer for the Twitter service:
Bringer and Nurturer of life, whose sacred name we hold precious.
May your supremacy, your desires, your plans and purposes burst from heaven into every corner of creation.
Feed our hearts, minds and bodies as we entrust ourselves into your care.
Forgive us when our self-centredness brings hurt to others and to you.
Help us to be just as gracious and just as loving with those you hurt us.
Guide us from following the seductive allure of all that draws us away from you,
And let evil’s influence over us be rendered impotent.
For yours is the sovereign rule;
Yours is the majestic, glorious power,
Throughout all time and into eternity.
Amen.
In the end, Karen Burke gave us a play-by-play on how the tweeting went, which was pretty much as I had predicted:
One of the technical drawbacks of Twitter is that the feed does not update on the screen automatically. I sat poised with my mouse before the monitor contemplating how regularly I should click it in order to keep up to date with the prayers. I settled on roughly every ten seconds …
I decided to investigate whether it was possible to see how many people were taking part in the online prayers by scrolling through Tim’s list of followers. Anyone participating should have “Amen” featuring as their latest tweet in their public feed along with the time when that tweet was sent. Tim has more than 700 followers so I resolved on clicking through the first few pages only. I didn’t come across any active participants. I was thinking whether or not this mattered when it dawned on me that the seconds were ticking away and I may have been missing more prayer tweets …
It was 10.10pm BST and the last prayer tweet was eight minutes ago: “May the grace of the Lord Jesus, the love of God and the fellowship of the holy spirit [sic] bind us all together in one Church and faith.” I wasn’t certain if this was the final tweet so I decided to keep refreshing the page until 10.30pm just to be sure. As I switched off the computer, I wondered whether the Twitter hashtag could have functioned as a unifying aid for the participants. There is clearly a lot of virtual ground to be explored.
Then, Ms Burke ended her article with an interesting sentence which set off warning bells:
Technology has opened up all sorts of fresh expressions of faith and spiritual engagement online.
Could that be the ‘fresh expressions’ I wrote about last year? Where ‘church can be wherever and whatever you want it to be’ especially if it’s outside of a church? Be very careful with this type of programme. It’s taken the emergent church types in our mainline congregations by storm and moves worship into the realm of error by distorting Scripture and disregarding established articles of faith. One of its hallmarks is that the initiatives are never announced as being ’fresh expressions’. They are a stealthy way of undermining true, liturgical, biblical worship. This seems to be what Revd Ross is doing. Best to avoid the whole thing.
My head exploded when I read this story in the Toronto Star: ‘Can a dog receive Communion?’
The story, the comments, the postmodernism, the relativism, the pet-worship, the biblical illiteracy and the sheer ignorance appalled me.
First, the consecrated host is — or should be — received in reverence. Although Anglicans do not believe in transubstantiation, they still believe in the Real Presence. How this occurs, they believe, is a divine mystery. Next, last I knew, only baptised Christians are invited to receive Communion in an Anglican church. Third, as if I needed to say this, only humans receive the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Those who do not know the Bible — yes, many Christians — say that church rules are man-made and move with the times. Church rules, however, derive from the New Testament.
Holy Communion is a sacrament. Mainline denominations along with Catholics believe that Holy Communion is the greatest of the sacraments. In fact, Protestant churches have only two: baptism and Holy Communion (known as the Supper in some churches). Some churches have a ‘closed table’, meaning that only church members can receive it. Yes, some churches may check your membership status with you before you receive Communion.
Although Jesus was speaking of unbelievers and mockers when he spoke the following words (Matt. 7:6), note the verbiage He used:
‘Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.’
On with the story now (link above), with a hat tip to the LCMS blog Cyberbrethren. A dog-owning G20 protester befriended an Anglican vicar in Toronto after the recent street protests during that conference. The Revd Marguerite Rea invited the man to a church service, as the police had harrassed him on the steps of her church, St Peter’s in Carlton Street. The man attended the Communion service, dog in tow. When it came time to approach the altar, he duly went up, accompanied by the dog.
Accounts differ as to what exactly happened next.
A member of the congregation wrote Bishop Patrick Yu alleging:
… the man asked the reverend to give the dog a wafer. But [Deputy Warden Peggy] Needham says she doesn’t recall the man making such a request. Instead, she said Rev. Rea instinctively leaned over and placed a wafer on the dog’s wagging tongue.
It just gets worse, doesn’t it? I’m sure someone has got this far and said, ‘Women priests!’
“I think it was this natural reaction: here’s this dog, and he’s just looking up, and she’s giving the wafers to people and she just gave one to him,” said Needham. “Anybody might have done that. It’s not like she’s trying to create a revolution.”
This is sacrilegious.
In the end:
Yu said when he spoke to Rev. Rea, she apologized for what she had done and said she would not do it again.
“Unless there is any further evidence that she is giving communion to animals, the matter is closed . . . we are after all, in the forgiveness and repair business,” he said.
Needham said the church has always been open to animals and once a year conducts a service to bless pets. Which is why the incident hardly caused a stir among the congregants – except for one.
Blessing pets! Oh, dear!
Deputy Warden Needham’s said in closing (emphasis mine):
“In his email, the man’s argument was that Christ wouldn’t have liked it,” said Needham. “But in my opinion, Christ would have thought it was neat. It was just being human. And it made everyone smile.”
‘In my opinion’ … Yes, it seems probable, doesn’t it, that our Saviour, who died an unimaginably horrible death on the Cross to free us from sin, would really have appreciated sharing His divine Body and Blood with … a dog.
Again, please note Matthew 7:6, wherein Jesus says:
‘Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.’
Apparently, the man who, quite rightly complained to Bishop Yu, has resigned his membership from St Peter’s and is seeking another church.
This pet deification is sinful. It’s not only a sin against God but an injustice to the pet. Only a fortnight ago I read a lengthy article in French newsweekly Marianne about the infantilisation of dogs. Owners around the world spend increasing amounts of money — billions worldwide – dying their dog’s fur, buying it clothes and carrying it around like a baby. The magazine quoted veterinarians who warned that they often see dogs with atrophied leg muscles because their owners carry them everywhere. I wonder if people realise that every dog on the planet — even the tiny chihuahua – is descended from a wolf.
Canines are lupines! They are not human. They are not baby substitutes.
Yes, they are probably the ‘babies’ a lot of pomos would like to have because they will never learn to talk and, outside of the occasional bark or walk, they are much easier to care for than an infant. But I digress.
Back to Cyberbrethren‘s Lutheran take on the canine Communion story. Have a read of the insightful comments, the best of which was reader Jack Kilcrease‘s (emphases mine):
Mainline Protestantism is based on the American middle class obsession with self-affirmation. This is also why there is also a psychotherapy obsession in our society.
The problem that they address is essentially with how Americans construct the self. We are all told growing up in this country that we can create ourselves and that the sky is the limit. There is no sense that we are something determined and that we have a certain role in God’s creation (orders of creation, natural law, etc.). If are in reality not determined by anything, then we are divine. Being divine, we are nevertheless situated in definite historical circumstances. This reminds us of the Gnostic concept of the divine self trapped in matter.
Here’s where the Mainline Protestant church service and psychotherapy come in. The problem with claiming all these things about our unlimited divine character is that they are factually untrue. When reality hits and the sky isn’t the limit, it make people who are trained to self-affirm unable to deal with it. So, the Mainline Protestant church-service is meant to help people feel good about themselves in spite of the fact that reality says that they are limited and sinful. If you listen to a Mainline Protestant sermon, that’s the sort of Jesus you get. Jesus just goes around affirming everyone, when the Pharisees’ goal is apparently to make everyone feel bad about themselves. The Church’s mission in this schema is to communicate and mediate to others the affirmation that Jesus gave back then now …
This is why there is the obsession with gay marriage as well. This dog thing is just the ultimate absurdity that this sort of thing reaches.
Stay tuned. We shall examine Mr Kilcrease’s accusations of Gnosticism in a future post. He is not wrong. And, yes, the whole idea — including ‘this dog thing’ — is absurd.
It was bound to happen, and the thought crossed my mind last year.
Beginning in August, the Revd Tim Ross, a Methodist minister, will begin Communion by Twitter. The Telegraph reports:
… worshippers are being invited to break bread and drink wine or juice in front of their computers as they follow the service online.
Churches usually require a priest to take the Eucharist, but the Rev Tim Ross, a Methodist minister, will send out a prayer in a series of Tweets – messages of up to 140 characters – to users of Twitter.
Those following the service are asked to read each tweet out loud before typing Amen as a reply at the end.
There is no difficulty having an online service without Communion, although how that would work in reality seems problematic. However, a minister cannot consecrate bread and wine remotely. Nor can a non-ordained person consecrate his own Sacrament.
Revd Ross says:
‘Those who are from a high [traditional] church background might be concerned about whether this is a valued form of communion, but this is for a global community.’
The word he may be looking for is ‘valid’ not ‘valued’. Perhaps that is what he said, and it was misreported by a journalist who knows nothing about the topic. To orthodox Christians, this is a breathtakingly awful sacrilege against the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. And, yes, I’m aware that Methodists view the Presence differently to Anglicans and Lutherans.
Will the national Methodist Church authority where he lives (unspecified) will allow him to proceed? I hope they do not.
Sadly, the Telegraph comment piece about this news is rather glib. It would appear that a non-Christian wrote it, as the editorial writer does not understand Holy Communion or consecration by a valid minister. One of the commenters thinks it’s a great idea, saying that astronauts have taken Communion into space. (Undoubtedly, those hosts were consecrated before liftoff.)
I would welcome any clarity on this development from my Methodist readers, especially Revd Ross, should he happen to read this post.
Believe it or not, someone did arrive on Churchmouse Campanologist recently searching for an answer to this question. The response below is from a Catholic and a Calvinist perspective.
First, for my Catholic readers. When I was growing up, most of the priests I knew smoked — cigars, mainly, although they had the occasional cigarette. Then, as I recall, sometime in the 1990s, John Paul II said that smoking was a sin. Well, despite the best efforts of ASH, WHO and Tobacco Control, Catholic Answers tells us:
Smoking in moderation is not a sin at all (CCC 2290).
Those who smoke heavily (how much is unspecified) may wish (but are not obliged) to discuss the matter with their confessor. Confessing venial sins of excess brings grace.
I would add that underage smokers are sinning — although not mortally – because they are breaking the law. Whilst they can still receive Holy Communion, they should stop smoking illegally.
The About.com Catholic forum tells us that Pope Paul VI smoked. At Catholicism Pure, Fr Cumanus tells us that St Teresa of Avila, St Alphonsus Liguori and St John Vianney (the Cure d’Ars) took snuff, which was ‘the appropriate form of tobacco consumption for distinguished ecclesiastics’.
Now, to readers of a Calvinist persuasion. The Nicotine Theological Journal editors, John R. Muether and Darryl G. Hart, explain why their publication is so-called (emphases mine):
Now about our name. Vice President Gore’s sanctimonious and tearful pledge to fight the wicked weed that produced part of his family fortune is but the latest example of the fierce public hostility to tobacco in our day. And it is another reminder of the necessity to explain why we employ the metaphor of tobacco for the purposes of this publication. We should begin by clarifying what we are not. This is not a Reformed version of Cigar Aficionado…
Then why nicotine? First, in order to affirm the social utility of tobacco. As Wendell Berry writes, “Tobacco is fragrant, and smoking at its best is convivial or ceremonious and pleasant.” Smoke and drink are conversation stimulants and together they suggest the relaxed and engaging atmosphere that we want to establish for the arguments and topics you will find here. We also want to suggest that the kind of conversation that accompanies the moderate use of tobacco and alcohol is very important for sustaining us on our pilgrimage this side of glory. It may even be a foretaste of the fellowship we will enjoy when our Lord returns.
Second, tobacco exposes the hypocrisy with which people, including Reformed believers, treat the matter of health and well-being. The anti-tobacco crusade can be a convenient way to overlook the many other distractions of modern life — from sports, to entertainment, money, politics and sex. We have reduced health to mere physical health, but physical health is not man’s chief end. So the modern obsession with physical fitness and material well-being is often unhealthy. In this connection, we can hardly improve on the words of Garrison Keiller (whom we promise not to quote often), “nonsmokers live longer, but they live dumber.”
Third, the cultural antagonism toward tobacco mirrors well the evangelical dismissiveness toward confessional Presbyterianism. Our commitments to things like Sabbath and psalms can’t even gain a hearing in most evangelical quarters. (Raise a question about holidays like Christmas and Advent and evangelicals think you just arrived from Mars.) Like most smokers, confessional Presbyterians are feisty and cantankerous because that is the only way one can take the Reformed confessions seriously in our day. In the light of the ascendency of mass-marketed evangelicalism, it is necessary for confessional Presbyterians to be resistance fighters. Our resistance will often take confrontational, dogmatic and sectarian forms — and we believe in the good senses of those words. But we will endeavor to avoid arrogance and narrow-mindedness. So, for example, along with offering reflections about the value of Sunday evening services, we will also recommend a good blend of Scotch every now and then. And while we have yet to be persuaded of exclusive psalmody, we also remain unconvinced about the virtues of chewing tobacco; nevertheless, we will entertain arguments for both.
Finally, our name sets a tone of lightheartedness that we want to characterize these pages. The NTJ will be occasional and occasionally serious. Along the way we hope to have fun, not least by poking fun at ourselves. Several friends have asked if smoking and drinking are requirements for membership in the Old Life Theological Society. Of course, the answer is no. One can be an Old School Presbyterian in spirit if not Old School in spirits (though there are some things we will expose as irredeemably New School, such as light beer or any alcohol-free pretender). As for smoking, to borrow a phrase from Richard John Neuhaus, we only ask those who refuse to light up that they at least strive to lighten up.
How much is advised? The Nicotine Theological Journal says:
Smoking two packs a day because you know you’re going to die anyway is not the best response to the blessings of this life (one pack should be sufficient).
So, to clarify, one pack a day to enjoy the blessings of this life.
Dr R Scott Clark at Heidelblog uncovered a poem by a pipe-smoking Church of Scotland minister, the Revd Ralph Erskine (1685-1752) of Dunfermline:
I hope that answers any question Catholics and Calvinists might have about tobacco and sin. For Methodists and Wesleyans, the answer may vary depending on how the doctrine of perfectionism is interpreted locally. Having said that, it should be noted that:
Wesley was clear that Christian perfection did not imply perfection of bodily health or an infallibility of judgment.
In closing, recommended are 1 Timothy 4:4-5 and 1 Corinthians 10:31, respectively:
For everything created by God is good, and nothing to be rejected, if it is received with thanksgiving: For it is made holy by the word of God and prayer.
So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.
Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink His blood, you have no life in you; he who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. – John 6:53, 54
Corpus Christi Sunday is normally celebrated one week after Trinity Sunday
in the Catholic Church (although, traditionally, it is commemorated the preceding Thursday). Some Anglican and Lutheran churches also celebrate this important feast day.
Corpus Christi means ’Body of Christ’ in Latin. The feast dates back to the Middle Ages and became a mandatory feast in 1312. It parallels the Last Supper on Maundy (Holy) Thursday, but is a more joyous celebration and one of thanksgiving, as Christ’s prophecies of His death, resurrection and ascension into Heaven have been fulfilled. He also sent the Holy Spirit to His disciples and the Holy Trinity was revealed to mankind — all as He promised.
In the 13th century, a young Augustinian nun in France, Juliana, had a profound devotion to the Blessed Sacrament and thought the Church should set aside a special feast day in its honour. She petitioned three senior clergymen. One of them, the Bishop of Liege, was the first to declare that this feast day be celebrated in his diocese annually. After Sister Juliana — later St Juliana — and the Bishop of Liege died, the feast of Corpus Christi became more widespread in Europe. In 1264, Pope Urban IV formally instituted the Feast of Corpus Christi to be celebrated the Thursday after Trinity Sunday. That same year, he commissioned St Thomas Aquinas to compose a Mass and Office especially for this feast.
A procession with the Holy Eucharist often takes place, even in Anglo-Catholic services. The Host is placed in a monstrance (pictured at right, courtesy of St Isadore, Yuba City). The priest, facing the congregation, elevates the monstrance; the congregation may then follow it in a procession outside and around the church. This is how the Anglican/Episcopal Church of the Atonement in Chicago
conducts theirs:
At the end of Mass, an outside procession forms, led by bagpipers. The Blessed Sacrament is placed in a smaller Monstrance for the outside procession, and is carried around the block by the Priest or Bishop beneath a canopy that is held up by Parishioners.
The Monstrance, as seen on the front cover of this invitation, is used by Roman Catholic, Old Catholic, and Episcopal Anglo-Catholic Churches to display the consecrated Eucharistic Host, during Eucharistic Adoration or Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. The word monstrance comes from the Latin word monstrare, meaning “to show.” It is closely related to the English word demonstrate, meaning “to show clearly.” Both words share a common root. In Latin, a monstrance is known as an ostensorium, from ostendere, “to show,” and monstre/monstral (England).
Once the outside procession has gone around … and back … the assembly returns to the Church for Benediction.
In the Service of Benediction, the Priest blesses the people with the Eucharist displayed in the Monstrance. This Blessing differs from the Priest’s Blessing, as it is seen as the Blessing of Christ, rather than that of the individual Priest.
The chalice with a Host rising from it, as shown at the top of this post, is also an important symbol of the Feast of Corpus Christi. The reason rays of li
ght are often shown proceeding from this and similar depictions is to symbolise the Real Presence of Christ’s Body and Blood therein.
With regard to chalices, I have included pictures of two to illustrate the six-pointed and six-scalloped edge types. Why six? Because the points and scallops represent the Six Attributes of the Deity: power, wisdom, majesty, mercy, justice and love.
Many people today baulk at the seeming extravagance of monstrances, chalices and clerical vestments. It is important to remember that these items are created with such elegance so as to honour God and His Son Jesus Christ. That may not wash with everyone’s interpretation of Christianity, but for those who hold to Catholic and traditional Anglican or Lutheran teachings, only the most precious metals and finest fabrics may be used.
For further reading:
Recently, Spouse Mouse and I were in the US visiting family and friends. What follows are musings from four friends, all of whom are lapsed Catholics. (Dialogue below as close as I can recall it.)
On opting out:
P: I just don’t go to Mass any more. It has no meaning for me. When I do go, it’s for someone’s First Communion or for a wedding. But those are family events.
On the Novus Ordo Mass:
K: I went to a different parish church today for a First Holy Communion Mass. What I’ll remember is that they rang the bells at the Elevation of the Host — so beautiful. They don’t do that at my church any more. Why?
I really don’t go to Mass very often any more. I do church my own way — at home in prayer.
R: I don’t go to Mass, either. It’s too different to what it was when I was growing up. I was an altar boy. It was the Latin Mass then. We had respect for the Mass and the priest. Nowadays, the priest just sits there in his chair. Why? There’s something wrong when a priest sits in a chair for that much of the Mass. I also don’t think the servers are trained that well. Sloppy. I look at them and shake my head. Never would have happened in my day.
Would I still be going if it were Latin Mass every week? That’s a good question. Maybe not every week, but a lot more often, sure.
On First Holy Communion:
K: When we made our First Communion, we got a missal, a rosary and a scapular. Today, the kids didn’t receive anything more than a scapular. What will that mean to them? How will they be able to pray and meditate privately? A scapular won’t do it. What will happen to their faith?
R: When I made my First Communion, everyone got a missal, rosary and scapular. Everybody did. It was the norm. I don’t understand why they’re not still doing that. Why not? The Church can’t be short of money. What’s this all going to mean to the kids? Nothing much.
On fellowship:
S: I’ve been going to a small, independent Bible church of 100 people. Everyone has been so nice to me. I had an operation last year and I couldn’t believe how friendly everyone was. Every day, at least one lady from church would drop by with food. They would also help me with little household chores. I couldn’t believe it.
That wouldn’t have happened in the Catholic church. They wouldn’t have cared if I were sick or not. I wouldn’t have been able to reach out to them.
Those women, including the pastor’s wife, really are my friends. They’re not holy rollers, just good people. They’ve given me such good advice. They’re really generous with their time.
On the Bible:
S: Since I’ve been going to my church, I’ve learned so much about Scripture. Verses I never even knew existed. The pastor and my friends there really help me understand what the Bible says and how I can apply it to my daily life.
These are (ex)Catholics — baptised, confirmed and educated in Catholic schools (through high school) – who are disillusioned with the faith into which they were born. If these are just my friends, how many others like them exist throughout the world?
