In asking, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” was Jesus disdainful towards his family, or referencing the core of his message – that is, in communion with God we become closer to others, and in touching other people’s lives we encounter the presence of God? As we sometimes say at the conclusion of the prayers over the bread+wine, “we being many are one body, for we all share in the same bread”. 

It is, indeed, the Eucharist, the central and distinguishing ritual of Christianity, that is meant to be our “family meal” to share with the siblings in faith. As such, every denomination practices it in some form, except for the Quakers and Salvation Army who consider it unnecessary, albeit not wrong. The model for doing so is Jesus’ last meal, where he asked his friends to keep eating together and thereby, to remember him. The first time they applied this was the day after he died, when they had a vision of him breaking bread at Emmaus. What’s enigmatic, however, is Jesus’ identification of the bread+wine with his body+blood, the first reference to which appears in 1 Cor 11:24–25. It was the interpretation of the reality of Jesus’ presence in the Eucharist that led to many schisms, wars, and ruined marriages, and became the ultimate litmus test to reveal one’s perceived “mothers and brothers”, rather in contrast to what Jesus seemed to have wanted for his followers.

Despite much theological diversity, however, since at least the 2nd century, Christian worship always followed the same pattern of Gathering, Word, Sacrament, and Sending. Every service 1) removes us from the world into a sacred/intentional space; 2) includes the reading of scripture, owing to the synagogue roots of our worship, and 4) releases us back into the world with the renewed identity/purpose. As for the third part, “the sacrament”, I would argue that worship in every tradition includes the moment of presumed transformation in which our work and earthly objects interact with the Spirit. I wonder if the idea that we have to consume something in order to make the transformation our own originated in Judaism, where the sacrifice of the Passover lamb was not completed by its death, but by EATING its flesh. This was to remediate the effect on Adam and Eve who, again, ATE the fruit of self-reliance. So now, to come as close to God as possible, and to be made clean+safe by his presence, means to place him in the innermost part of our being – either literally in the stomachs in traditions that elevate the Eucharist, or in the hearts and minds for those who, instead, view the preaching as that moment of consuming and internalizing the Word=Jesus (cf John). As such, all traditions include some preaching and bread+wine; but it’s all about how and where the “magic” is considered to happen.

The associated nuances are endless. Word/preaching-oriented traditions call the bread+wine the Lord’s Supper or Breaking of Bread, and do not require special prayers (yet, often restrict them to men). “Sacramental” traditions use authorized prayers and elevate the ritual. Anglicans refer to the whole service as Holy Communion, and to the Eucharist per se as “the Great Thanksgiving” reflecting the Greek root of the word. But the Catholic and Orthodox meaning of Communion refers only to the actual act of receiving; as such, the Catholic service is a “mass” (as per its concluding words, “Ite, missa est = Go, it is dismissed”), and the Orthodox one is “the Divine Liturgy”. Sacramental traditions also restrict who may bless (clergy, gender, celibacy), who may receive (those who confessed as a group or to priest, reconciled at the “Peace”, baptized or parish members, etc.), what elements to use (leavened or unleavened, wine with or without water, or juice), the use of leftovers, the clothing (the poncho indicates the presider!), and the priest’s gestures and private prayers (e.g., when washing hands, saying “create in me a clean heart” Ps 51:10). I’d say that most if not all of such outward differences reflect theological assumptions regarding a) the notion of realism of Jesus’ presence, and b) the goal of offering remembrance vs. sacrifice. 

For if Jesus becomes truly present in the bread+wine, is it at the moment of blessing or consuming? Are we remembering his life, teachings, or death? Did Jesus envision his death as self-sacrificial (to what end?), or does our faith tradition imbue it with this meaning? Sometimes, we conclude the prayers over the bread+wine with “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us” (1 Cor 5:6-8) and/or “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world” (as per the uniquely Johannine timing of Jesus’ death on Passover) – but does Communion only reenact Jesus’ sacrifice or make its own? What’s being sacrificed – “our souls and bodies”, or the bread being broken, or do we become broken as we give ourselves to others? Notwithstanding these differences, however, the general pattern of all Eucharistic prayers remained constant over the centuries, and across sacramental traditions.

It is as follows: 1) The sursum corda elevates our hearts and minds to God; 2) we give thanks to God as a creator and redeemer, sometimes referencing Jesus as the culmination of God’s work, or a phase of his life, seasonally; 3) we recognize the eternal worship in heaven via the “Holy, Holy, Holy” (Rev. 4–5), and ask to be admitted there by saying “Hosanna” = “Save us” (Ps 118 and the palms), and 4) we hear Jesus’ words from the synoptic gospels, with which some traditions consider the priest, momentarily, to become Christ, and in the old Anglican rite, that’s when we broke the bread. But the place of the greatest variability within Anglicanism and across denominations is, 5) the Epiclesis, in which we ask the Spirit to descend upon the bread+wine – maybe, to transform them into the body+blood right then – or upon us separately from the “gifts”, or neither. The latter is the case in today’s prayer, the oldest Anglican one that reflects the rejection of Catholic transubstantiation consistent with the theology of the Reformation era. Bells sound at each of the key “magical” moments – worship in heaven, Jesus’ words, and the influx of the Spirit – bringing them to our attention because at the end, 6) all present are asked to express their assent to participate in these with the Great Amen, also believed to be somehow transformative. Lastly, for over 1600 years, the Eucharist ended with the prayer Jesus taught to his disciples (Lk and Mt), which references our ever-present, daily need to consume spiritual/physical bread. 

I hope this information helps us appreciate the extent of meaning invested in this “simple” rite. Now you see why traditions that use preset prayers require them to be authorized – they are so carefully worded to reflect centuries’ worth of theological work! Still, the answers to all the deep questions I mentioned are often “both”, particularly in Anglicanism, where at each given service, a different shade/layer of meaning may become prominent based on what is being prayed. That’s because today, many prayers are permissible, and each reflects theological positions of its time, dating as early as the 1500s (which we used this morning as an exception), and then in Canada, notably to 1962 and 1985, which we use more regularly and which show doctrinal differences, yet follow the same general pattern.

May we continue to seek and find transformation through every wording we encounter, and remember that this always remains a true “family meal”, where love and commitment may be expressed with different words, but everyone has a place at the table.

Reflection Questions

1. Take a look at some leaflets from previous services, or on pp. 193-210 of the green “Book of Alternative Services” you may find in the pews or online https://www.anglican.ca/about/liturgicaltexts/. Observe what Eucharistic prayers we tend to use, and notice what common components they have: the opening exchange, the first paragraph calling us to praise God (sometimes outlining the reasons for doing so, with or without reference to Jesus), then “Holy, Holy, Holy”, then references to the last supper and Jesus’ request that it be replicated “in memory of him”, the moment when the Holy Spirit is invited to sanctify “the gifts”, and the moment when the bread is broken and offered. Have you thought about this structure previously, and is there something that you have now noticed for the first time, or with a new meaning?

2. Today, I chose to use the oldest Eucharistic Prayer in the Church of England that dates back to the 16th century. Some of you might be quite familiar with it, as this was the standard and only form used in Canada until the 1980s — I did take the liberty to remove the archaic verb endings and pronouns that the latest Canadian revision (1962) still retains. How was this for you? Did any wording catch your attention? Did you feel like something was missing? Or conversely, especially if you grew up with it, that it was somehow a fuller experience? 

3. In addition to using this Eucharistic prayer, today, I integrated a few other Old Rite elements: “the Summary of the Law”, which I used in place of the creed, in parallel to where it appears in the Morning Prayer; as well as the “Prayer of Humble Access” before the bread is broken, and the original closing prayer. These have disappeared in the “new” rites developed in the 1980s. Do you find their emphasis on humility refreshing or oppressive: “we’re not worthy to eat the crumbs… yet God’s property is always to have mercy”, “although we are unworthy, may God accept our bounden duty not weighing our merits, but pardoning our offences”.