notre dame montreal

5. Why Bother to think about Holy Communion?

 

The Church needs to face the fact that the number of people who have no idea what goes inside its buildings is increasing fast. Given that Holy Communion is the main Sunday service in most Anglican churches, particular attention needs to be paid to making this as accessible and comprehensible as possible (without at the same time destroying its nature). It needs to be recognised that the Communion service may act as a very effective agent of anti-evangelism, because although the liturgy has great power and beauty, unless there is a basic sympathy with and understanding of what is going on, the outsider may conclude that the whole thing is unacceptably weird.

This means that Holy Communion will become a possible option for many outsiders, only if the Church is prepared to look openly and honestly at some of the questions that may be asked about it. Each of the different names for the service brings out a slightly different aspect: ‘Holy Communion’ comes from the communal sharing of bread and wine; ‘the Lord’s Supper’ comes from the origin of the service (the Last Supper); ‘the Mass’ comes from the final words of the old Latin service, which ‘sent’ people out into the world; ‘the Eucharist’ comes from the Greek word for ‘thanksgiving’.
The Last Supper wasn’t just any old meal, of course: it was the ‘Passover meal’ that Jesus was eating with his disciples. This derives from the account in Exodus of how the angel of death, on its tour of Egypt to kill all the first-born, would ‘pass over’ those houses which had lamb’s blood smeared on the doorposts. Each household then ate the lamb, and made good their escape from the Egyptians. The story is in itself pretty odd, and introduces some rather troubling notions of God, including the idea that he had favourites. But things got a whole lot odder when the symbolism of this meal was itself symbolised in terms of the death of Jesus, who was seen as the Paschal lamb, the innocent victim, needed for others to escape.

The very idea of ‘sacrifice’ is a problem to many people: it made good sense to Jews 2000 years ago, but we live in different times. The Communion service is soaked in the language of sacrifice, with the bread being (or ‘standing for’) Christ’s body, and the wine his blood. Bread is broken just as his body was broken on the cross; it is then given just as his broken body was ‘given for us’, whilst the wine shows how his life-giving blood was ‘poured out for us’. Many people find it primitive and disgusting, and cannot get over its apparently cannibalistic aspects. As with any ritual the only way to understand it is participate in it so that it becomes part of oneself: but for some this is impossible.
Cannibalism is based on the idea that through eating another human being it is possible to acquire his strength and courage. It is therefore a ritualistic act, and not simply a case of eating whatever food happens to be close to hand. Jews found the idea of drinking blood completely abhorrent, and therefore the idea that Jesus really did commend this practice to his disciples poses all sorts of problems. Old Testament references to people being eaten refer to the threats posed by enemies, and the way that by devouring someone it is possible to destroy them utterly. It might be that Jesus offered bread and wine to his disciples, in a perfectly normal way - and when they had eaten and drunk said to them ‘you’ve just eaten and drunk me. It’s people like you who are responsible for what’s about to happen to me; it’s people like you I’m going to die for’. Such an idea is unlikely, but so are all the other possible interpretations.

Apart from the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation (which says that in the Eucharist the bread and wine actually become, literally, the body and blood of Christ) any understanding of the Eucharist is necessarily symbolic - and none the worse for that. Symbolism is the way we deal with the most profound aspects of human life, which is why it’s odd that many people are so reluctant to see religion as a profound system of symbols, and keep trying to literalise it. But in the case of the Eucharist, even if it’s accepted that the whole thing is a matter of symbolism, the underlying cannibalistic ideas are still there - and does saying that we’ve symbolised the cannibalism make it acceptable? To the outsider, as well as to many of the insiders, the whole thing is
bizarre. Smearing blood on doorposts sounds like magic, whilst eating the flesh of God may sound ludicrous and blasphemous, as well as cannibalistic. The further idea that unless ordained people preside over the service, the whole thing is inefficacious - it doesn’t ‘work’ - is the final straw for many. It may be that the Eucharist can be made much more accessible only if the Church starts to take symbolism seriously. Perhaps only in this way can it move beyond the idea that it is involved with magic, and that by a special person saying certain special words some extraordinary result can be achieved.

But although sacrifice is at the very heart of the Eucharist, and despite the fact that we don’t talk like this any more, nothing less than strong language can do the job. If we’re really serious about the need to change ourselves and the world, nothing less than everything can ever be enough. To ‘give oneself’ in the service of others requires the most extreme language that we can find. If we actually do go out into the world determined to be the Body of Christ, determined to try and love others, determined to make a difference, the Eucharist will have done its holy, transforming work.
We live in a society of rapid travel, fast food and instant entertainment. There will always be those who eat junk food, watch mindless television, and read tabloid newspapers; if they have any inclination towards religion it’s only natural that they might expect it to be available in the same sort of way. Their needs are already well-catered for, but there will also always be those (a much smaller number to be sure) who are more discerning and want good food, high culture, intelligent conversation - and thoughtful, demanding religion. As the very heart of our worship, the Eucharist is where they should be fed: it is the task of the Church to ensure that they receive living bread and not simply pap.

 

Tony Windross, Vicar of St Peter's, Sheringham.

Why bother

A fuller treatment of this topic, plus 36 others, can be found in ‘The Thoughtful Guide to Faith’

also written by Tony Windross, published by John Hunt (2004) and available from all good bookshops at £9-99.

amw@windross.fsnet.co.uk