Celtic Advent - Day XXXVIII - December 23

 

CELTIC ADVENT – DAY XXXVIII – December 23

 

“God’s grace is a gift that is freely given to us. We don’t earn a thing when it comes to God’s love, and we only try to live in response to the gift. No one is climbing the spiritual ladder. We don’t continually improve until we are so spiritual we no longer need God. We die and are made new, but that’s different from spiritual self-improvement. We are simultaneously sinner and saint, 100 percent of both, all the time. The Bible is not God. The Bible is simply the cradle that holds Christ. Anything in the Bible that does not hold up to the Gospel of Jesus Christ simply does not have the same authority. The movement in our relationship to God is always from God to us. Always. We can’t, through our piety or goodness, move closer to God. God is always coming near to us. Most especially in the Eucharist and in the stranger.”
― Nadia Bolz-Weber, Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint

 

 

The pandemic has forced us into some interesting scriptural and liturgical gymnastics in order to bring the Eucharist to congregations. Some churches are doing “drive by” communion. Others are doing “parking lot” communion.

 

There are some churches that have created “Pod Churches” where a Eucharistic Visitor is specially commissioned and assigned to a specific household to bring consecrated hosts. Together, they watch Eucharist being live streamed and, at the appropriate time, the communicate themselves.

 

Other churches have chosen to use the idea of “Spiritual Communion” wherein a prayer of special intention from Armed Forces Handbook is said while the priest is live streaming Eucharist. I’ll post a copy of that prayer at the end of this reflection.

 

Bishops and priests and deacons are, understandably, nervous. On the one hand, we want to take seriously the notion of The True Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. On the other hand, some are concerned about the Eucharist becoming a fetish of sorts. Trying to find the balance means some experimentation, which some bishops are loathed to allow.

 

Meanwhile, people are spiritually hungry. We are muddling along as best we know how, but none of it is completely satisfying – especially as we come to celebrate the Feast of the Incarnation in the Nativity of Our Lord.

 

Which brought back a memory of my six months of diaconal ministry in 1986 when I was a Chaplain at the University of Lowell in Lowell, MA.

 

We were serious as a heart attack about the True Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, of which I had no doubt and about which I was – and am, still – very sober and somber, but as a transitional deacon there were pragmatics and practicalities to be consider as I endeavored to establish a weekly “Spaghetti Supper and Eucharist” at our home in Lowell for the University Students every Sunday evening.

Ann Fowler, a dear friend of mine, had been ordained to the priesthood and, as it turned out, had an abundance of home baked bread which had been consecrated but not used during her ordination service.

Ann asked if I would like to take it home. I was thrilled to do so, as I had been borrowing consecrated hosts from my brothers (only brothers, then) in the Episcopal Churches of Lowell – St. Anne’s, where I was to be ordained that October –  and St. John’s.

Ms. Conroy looked at the three loaves of bread I was carrying back to the car and, when I told her what they were, was absolutely, positively horrified.

“What are you going to do with them?” she asked, “They certainly won’t keep for more than a week!”

“I shall put them in the freezer,” I said, cheerily.

“IN THE FREEZER??!!” she thundered.

“That’s the Body of Christ,” she said, breathlessly. “You can’t put Jesus IN THE FREEZER!”

Now, let me pause here to explain something about long-term relationships.

There comes a point when you understand that your role – your job, indeed, your bounded duty – in any sacred, committed relationship, is to torment one another.

I know. It’s not stated in the marriage vows. But, every couple, at some point in their marriage eventually understands this.

Back to my story, then:

In that moment, I knew that Ms. Conroy had just written out, signed, sealed and delivered, a License to Torment. And, it had my name on it. I couldn't actually see it, but I had no doubt. I went home, put the consecrated bread in the freezer, and hardly slept at all in gleeful anticipation of the morning.

There she was, in the kitchen, drinking her morning coffee and reading her newspaper. I went to the refrigerator, opened the freezer door and said, “Barbara. It’s me. Jesus. I’m so cold. Help me.”

Ms. Conroy looked up from her paper, frowned, stirred her coffee, returned to her paper, and said nothing more.

And it was night, and it was morning, the second day.

Act II. Same scene. I went over to the refrigerator, opened the freezer door, and said, “Barbara. It’s me. Jesus. Behind the broccoli. It’s freezing in here. Help me.”
Ms. Conroy emitted what can only be called a low growl. I knew I had been warned, but I simply couldn’t resist.

Pray for me, a sinner.

And it was night, and it was morning, the third day.

Act II. Same scene. And, ACTION.

On cue, I opened the freezer door and said, “Please, Barbara. It’s Jesus. You have to help me. I’m so cold. I'm FREEZING!”

And I said, “If you really are the savior, help yourself!” And slammed the freezer door.

At which point, Ms. Conroy slammed her hand on the table, went over to the refrigerator, opened the freezer door, removed the three loaves of frozen consecrated bread and starting walking to the back door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’m going to feed this bread to the birds!” said she, and stormed off as I watched her from the kitchen window, chuckling as she tried to tear pieces off the frozen loaves of bread, which would have required a miracle for her to perform.

Now, it wasn’t that I doubted for a minute that Jesus was – IS – present in the consecrated bread. Indeed, I pushed that point of belief to its ultimate, albeit ridiculous conclusion.

It’s that I believed it so much, I played with any doubt that He was present, even in frozen form. Better in frozen form, I reasoned, which could be thawed and consumed than to have grown moldy and inedible and then, I suppose, burned.

And, I think that’s the point of faith – to believe enough to play with your doubts.

 

Tomorrow evening on Christmas Eve, we will hear the story of the Nativity and much of it will surpass the bounds of logic and reason. And, it won’t make a lick of difference. We’ll all enter fully into the story and, even though we aren’t in church and the organ isn’t playing all the familiar and much loved Christmas carols, Jesus will still be present to us, even though he will come to us via cyberspace.

 

As the angel Gabriel said to Mary, “For with God, all things are possible.”

 

I will leave you with these words from Nadia Boltz-Weber to consider as we prepare our hearts to make room for the Savior in the manger of our hearts – and computer or laptop or smart phone screens

“My spirituality is most active, not in meditation, but in the moments when: I realize God may have gotten something beautiful done through me despite the fact that I am an asshole, and when I am confronted by the mercy of the gospel so much that I cannot hate my enemies, and when I am unable to judge the sin of someone else (which, let’s be honest, I love to do) because my own crap is too much in the way, and when I have to bear witness to another human being’s suffering despite my desire to be left alone, and when I am forgiven by someone even though I don’t deserve it and my forgiver does this because he, too, is trapped by the gospel, and when traumatic things happen in the world and I have nowhere to place them or make sense of them but what I do have is a group of people who gather with me every week, people who will mourn and pray with me over the devastation of something like a school shooting, and when I end up changed by loving someone I’d never choose out of a catalog but whom God sends my way to teach me about God’s love.”
― Nadia Bolz-Weber, Accidental Saints: Finding God in All the Wrong People

 

 

Prayer for Spiritual Communion

Armed Forces Handbook.

 

In union, O Lord, with your faithful people at every altar of your Church, where the Holy Eucharist is now being celebrated, I desire to offer to you praise and thanksgiving. I remember your death, Lord Christ; I proclaim your resurrection; I await your coming in glory. Since I cannot receive you today in the Sacrament of your Body and Blood, I beseech you to come spiritually into my heart. Cleanse and strengthen me with your grace, Lord Jesus, and let me never be separated from you. May I live in you, and you in me, in this life and in the life to come. Amen.