To watch this sermon please click here: https://youtu.be/tt2W1HCF5SI
As is so often the case, we have a medieval
woman to thank for the feast of Corpus Christi.
Juliana of Liège, was born in the early 1190s in Liège, Belgium. In that fine European city, there were groups
of women dedicated to Eucharistic worship. They lived together, devoted to
prayer and to charitable works.
Juliana developed a special
veneration for the Blessed Sacrament. Like
all such faithful people, she took great comfort from the celebration of Maundy
Thursday, or the Feast of the Institution of the Eucharist. But, as we often observe here, she noted that
the Maundy Thursday celebration had many layers, including the washing of the
disciples feet, and the agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. As a
true devotee of the Eucharist, Juliana longed for a feast day outside of Lent
in its honour. This desire was enhanced
by a vision of the Church under the appearance of the full moon with one dark
spot, which signified the absence of such a singular focus in the Church’s
year. She had this vision many times over the next 20 years but she kept it a
secret. When she eventually relayed it to her confessor, he relayed it to the
bishop.
At that time bishops could order
feasts in their dioceses, so Bishop Robert ordered in 1246 a celebration of
Corpus Christi to be held in the diocese each year thereafter on the Thursday
after Trinity Sunday. The first such
celebration occurred at St Martin's Church, Liège, in the city that same year.
The rest is history. The feast of
Corpus Christi became rather a rallying point for the different Christian
perspectives on the Eucharist. The feast
was intended to celebrate the true presence of Christ in the bread and the wine
of Communion. As it grew in importance,
the elements were paraded around churches, and then around whole cities, in an
ever more devoted display of faith. At the High Mass of the day, the bread
itself, placed in an elaborate holder called a monstrance, was used to bless
the assembled congregation.
But as the debates of the Reformation
took hold, many considered such displays of the Eucharist to be idolatrous. For
those who considered the Holy Communion to be no more than a memorial of Christ’s
death and passion, it was too great a leap to believe that Christ himself could
be present in the bread and the wine. By
1548, the Church of England had abolished the Feast altogether, although
traditional Catholic worshippers would still celebrate it in secret. The 39 Articles of the Church of England
specifically forbade the ‘carrying around’ of the Eucharist for people to ‘gaze
upon’.
And so, for centuries within the
Anglican Church, the feast of Corpus Christi has always felt a little bit ‘naughty’.
To celebrate it with full pomp and show stands directly in opposition to the
intentions of the Reformers of the church – and it continues to be a topic that
divides opinion among priests and people of the church.
For my part, I think this feast still has value. It is an opportunity for us to focus entirely
upon the meaning of the service we do together every week – but without the possible
distraction of focusing on other texts or issues. It is an opportunity for each of us to ask ‘what
does the Eucharist mean to me?’ What is
the Service for?! What is its
fundamental purpose? Why do we do it,
and why should we continue doing it?
Surprisingly, one of the most
profound answers that I've found to these questions comes from an atheist. The
philosopher Alain de Botton has written a description of what he calls 'the
Mass', which is well worth hearing. (It’s
part of his book "Religion for Athiests: A Non-Believer's Guide to the
Uses of Religion"). He argues that
Atheists need to learn from the Church.
He praises the Mass for the way that it brings people together in
community around a meal.
de Botton points out that with
declining church attendance we have seen an exponential rise in restaurants. But, he says, restaurants fail to
"introduce patrons to one another, to dispel their mutual suspicions, to
break up the clans into which people chronically segregate themselves”. The focus is on the food and the decor, and
on the people we’ve chosen to meet. It
is never on opportunities for extending and deepening connections across the
whole community.
In contrast, de Botton says of the
Mass that... “Those in attendance tend not to be uniformly of the same age,
race, profession or educational or income level; they are a random sampling of
souls united only by their shared commitment to certain values"
The Mass, says de Botton,
"should inspire visitors to suspend their customary frightened egoism in
favour of joyful immersion in a collective spirit - an unlikely scenario in the
majority of modern community centres"
Of course, the Holy Communion is
much more than a gathering of disparate souls into one body. But it is at
least that. For me, it is also the
chance to focus, for a while, on something other than myself, my needs, my
desires. It is a chance to be drawn
outwards from my fragile ego, and into the life of the Eternal Trinity. It is an opportunity to be fed, spiritually, by
the source of all life, so that I may be empowered and inspired to live my life
for God and for others.
What does the Eucharist mean to
you?
Amen.
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