This is me in Taizé shortly after my arrival, perhaps January 1995. A new Lithuanian friend who was a former draftee in the Soviet Army took the photo for me. I finished my own US Army commitment in 1994. Enemies can become friends.
“Ah, Taizé, that little springtime,” remarked Pope John XXIII about the ecumenical monastic community nestled on a hill in Burgundy, France. Being there definitely was a springtime experience for me. I have recently been thinking about my time there a lot. For, I moved to Taize’ in France on December 5, 1994 – 30 years ago!
I first met the brothers escorting Mary Washington College students to their first large meeting ever held in the US at Dayton University. Several thousand young adults from across the US gathered across denominational lines. As part of “the Pilgrimage of Trust,” we stayed with local families where conversations would continue.
I had no idea how my heart would open when I first volunteered to go as a chaperone and participant. My experience changed the way I looked at life and the Church – how I understood myself as well. People sharing their faith, positive interactions with people who were previously “other” to me, and a more intimate prayer life energized me.
I read much about the Ecumenical Community of Taizé and from Br. Roger, the founder, after that. I continued to pray with chants at home and with friends. I went to a few smaller regional meetings. It slowly became a part of me. I’d even catch myself singing their chants (ultimately prayers) as I drove to emergency calls or in quiet moments of my day. Like the prophet, Nehemiah, my prayer life and work life merged. I found myself praying all the time. As I found more peace, I became more patient and discerning when working with others or arresting people. I discovered peace even when amidst the thick of things. Even my sergeant noticed the change. He said during my review, “I don’t know what you are doing, but keep it up.” I think it was more what God was doing in my life, but his observations affirmed for me that I was in a better place and heading in the right direction. Whatever my future, God was with me.
All the while, I began to wonder if I was being called to become a brother. When younger, I had investigated becoming a priest while Roman Catholic. Yet like many young adults, with unaddressed trauma, grief and sin from the past, I had wondered far. I finally became open to radically trusting God after a crisis. Thanks to seeds planted in my past, faith-filled friends, and intentional spiritual, mental, and emotional work, I found my way back home. The Dayton meeting came when the time was right and catapulted me forward toward a new, radical trust in God. Now, I also understood the Church was more than my denomination. I came to believe my past errors need not hold me back. I was and remain forgiven and free. I became determined to address the issue of serving in the Church once and for all wherever God might lead me. For God had been faithful to me, and again, I trusted the Spirit would set me on the right path.
During this time of growth, I had come to know Br. John. Br. John is one of the community’s American brothers, and he is often asked to go abroad. He had introduced me to a Croatian immigrant in Alexandria who hoped to have a meeting in the DC region where I then lived. Certainly, I would help! It proved such a special event. Only about 100 attended, but the impact was similar to my time in Dayton. As I spoke with Br. John during a break, I tentatively told him of my vocational search over the years – on and off. My friend Tony and I would be visiting Taizé in France for the first time, and I wondered – although I can’t sing well or speak French – maybe there was still an answer for me there?
Brother John did not laugh at me as I feared. I was not rejected, but instead taken seriously in my search. Although I had not been before to the community, Br. John said that as I was in a different place than many in my search (I had done a lot of work regarding my repentance, healing, and discernment) perhaps I should spend a week in silence. I still would go to the three daily prayers. I would have moments of conversation. Yet mostly, I would spend time in silence or speaking with my future contact brother, Br. Francois, who would serve as a kind of spiritual director. (He was an early brother, and much later, I learned he was also a Lutheran pastor.)
My contact brother, Brother Francois
Of course, most of my time was indeed spent meditating on scripture, praying, or going for walks. Yet, I was invited to eat with Br. Roger and the brothers once during this first visit as well. A brother who did not know me introduced himself and said, “You are in a week of silence aren’t you?” I said yes, but asked how he knew. He said that people experiencing a week of silence often had a glow about them. (Although I did not understand it at the time, I would later see that glow on other faces.) My growing trust and peace showed.
As my week closed, I told Br. Francois that I thought perhaps I should come for a longer time for more discernment. This would necessitate my resigning from the police department. My eyes and heart had opened wider, so I understood it was time to take a leap of faith. I felt pulled there. He said after a short time of discussion, “We cannot know yet what the answer will be, but we have similar hearts. You must come.” And so, long story very short, I resigned from the police department and came. I began my service as a long term volunteer, “a permanent” in Taize’ parlance, primarily working among the campsites and with meeting preparations.
Upon arrival, I continued to meet with Br. Francois, and there were many, many more important friendships and memories made during my time there including at the Paris European Meeting with over 100,000 young adults!
A group photo of the male Permanents at the time from all over the globe. Br. Mathew, a “young brother” in charge of caring for us, is now the Prior of the community (far right). Great memories!
Yet after about seven months, it became clear that I was not to stay, but I never doubted that I had been called there. I came to that little hill, and I saw Christ more clearly than ever before. I just now knew he was calling me to something else. Back to the valley for me! This led me to other people, and thus more new understandings of God’s love, but that’s for another time to share.
I have not been back to what I still consider my spiritual home, but my wife, Kristine, and I did make it to a European Meeting in Barcelona. (It was the last time I saw Br. Francois. He died a few years ago.) I also was able to welcome Br. John and Br. Emile for a meeting at my church in the Richmond area in 2019. I hope our paths will cross again, but as I have written to my many dear fellow volunteers now across the globe, it’s ok if I don’t meet them again. I still sense the deep, living communion which we share any time I hear Taize’ chants, see a photo, or think of them. The Spirit works this way among the Church, a communion of saints. That communion spoken about in the creeds of the Church is tangible.
Yes, we are together still. It’s hard to explain, but it is true. I trust – thanks be to God – that it will be so forever.
There’s definitely some confusion when it comes to Candlemas each February 2. Not only is it overshadowed by Groundhog Day, but it also remains rather obscure to many modern Christians and most certainly non-Christians. Candlemas is perhaps most properly or commonly called the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus. The Church remembers Mary and Joseph taking Jesus to the Temple forty days after his birth to complete Mary’s ritual purification after childbirth and to perform the redemption of the firstborn son as reported in Luke 2:22-40.
Candlemas is an old feast of the Church, a kind of holiday or holy day one might say. Normally, a feast day commemorates a person or event. Unfortunately, with Candlemas, it appears multiple, closely related meanings have been attached to it over the centuries and events perhaps merged. In a web search, you will quickly learn that Candlemas can not only be called Feast of the Presentation of Jesus, but it can also be known as the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary, or the Feast of the Holy Encounter.
In Leviticus 12:2-8, we learn “A woman who becomes pregnant and gives birth to a son will be ceremonially unclean for seven days, just as she is unclean during her monthly period. On the eighth day the boy is to be circumcised. Then the woman must wait thirty-three days to be purified from her bleeding. She must not touch anything sacred or go to the sanctuary until the days of her purification are over.” (There are separate requirements for the birth of a girl child.) For the male, a year-old lamb was to be offered for a burnt offering and a young pigeon or a dove for a sin offering. If the mother and her family could not afford a lamb, she was to bring two doves or two young pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a sin offering. God was thought to be a God of life. Things that smacked of death and illness such as blood were deemed unclean. In sacrificing the offering as part of the ritual in faith with prayer, the priest was thought to be atoning for any of her sins. A person was being made fit to be in the presence of God and among God’s Holy People.
The first male child held special significance to the early Hebrews. With their cultic life and practice centered around priestly activities and offerings relating to the Ark of the Covenant and Ten Commandments, members of the twelve tribes were expected to support the work of the Tent of Meeting and later the Temple in Jerusalem. As the people became more numerous and the cultic practices more established, it was recognized that not every first male child need to serve with the priests. Indeed, sometimes families making a subsistence living might need him more just to survive.
Exodus 13:2-15 describes another ordinance. Through Moses, God was believed to have commanded, “Consecrate to me every firstborn male. The first offspring of every womb among the Israelites belongs to me, whether human or animal.” All the firstborn males of their livestock were also to belong to the Lord. When people asked why, they were to explain, “Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us go, the Lord killed the firstborn of both people and animals in Egypt. This is why I sacrifice to the Lord the first male offspring of every womb and redeem each of my firstborn sons.”
In Numbers 18:15-16, it says, “The redemption price for firstborn non-Levites was set at 5 shekels.” Today, this practice is known as the pidyon haben, the redemption of the first-born son, and silver coins are used. It is only conducted for male babies but not if the baby was delivered by cesarian section. In effect, the father “buys” or “redeems” his son from the priest and the expected, traditional service. (The Temple no longer exists, so it is more symbolic than in the past.) At least under rabbinical practice today (if not earlier), this obligation only exists if the parents are not Levites or part of the priestly class. In a quick review of scripture, I see no date for this to be held in scripture, but today the obligation begins when the baby is 30 days old, and so the ceremony often occurs on the thirty-first day after birth. If included parents do not redeem the child for whatever the child becomes responsible for his own redemption at thirteen years of age. (See the article Redeeming firstborn sons for more details.)
Certainly, Luke seems to confuse these two practices – the redemption of the first male child and the purification of the mother forty days after birth. In fact, Luke has the fee for the purification of the mother become the redemption price for the son. Remember, Luke did not observe these events. He was a Greek doctor who had come to believe in Jesus and served with Paul for a time. To me, it certainly seems reasonable that he didn’t fully understand Levitical codes. I’ve read some articles suggesting that there was no such custom of presenting a Jewish male child in the Temple back in the first Century, but with the redemption needing to be made to a priest, perhaps a child need not be there, but I would certainly not be surprised if a family did. I see no reason to doubt the ultimate truth of the passage. Jesus was presented in the Temple. Simeon and the prophet Anna could have certainly encountered Jesus and through the Spirit’s revelation understood his import. (Hence, Candlemas can also be known as the Feast of the Holy Encounter.)
Whether we focus on some kind of presentation of Jesus including most likely the story of his redemption, the purification right of Mary, or Jesus being revealed as the Messiah to Simeon and Anna, I hope we remember all these early stories and practices amidst their variations. They help make Jesus and his family come alive in context of their time. February 2 being forty days Christmas remains the perfect day to do so. Indeed, as I have written elsewhere, the date was once was considered the end of what was called the Season of Epiphany, and any remaining Christmas greens were taken down. (Today, most denominations don’t have a season of Epiphany but have January 6 as the Feast of Epiphany and what is now called the start of the Season after Epiphany.)
So that all said, with all those names and remembrances possibly now making more sense, why is the day also called Candlemas? Well, in past days, Christian families would commonly bring candles to the church as we remembered Jesus as “a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of [God’s] people Israel.” Much as we bless food to our use or dedicate worship items through prayer, families would ask that the candles used in the home for light be blessed.
Happy Candlemas everyone! As Jesus urged, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
For those who attend our theology on tap meetings, Three Priests Walk in a Bar, you might recall that we originally created a special Facebook group so conversations could continue. Our producer and facilitator, Nick2, similarly invited folks to “pick apart” our gatherings conversation at a later date. We invite you to join our Facebook group and join the ongoing conversations related to our gatherings and podcasts. Here’s the second of two essays that I am sharing regarding the Lord’s Supper in response to issues raised. The live event’s topic was “Can Christians Worship Together or Not?,” Episode 3.
When I was a child long ago, it was a common practice to have those coming to the Lord’s Table for the first time to dress in white. It was to serve as a reminder of our baptism. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, both means of God’s grace, are intricately linked almost as if one sacrament. Fr. Adam (Orthodox), Fr, Nik (Episcopal) and I (Lutheran) agree on that understanding.
As our last live gathering came to a close, Father Nik offered last words, passionate and extensive ones, in defense of common liturgical practice and Apostolic tradition: the unbaptized should not receive communion. I can’t say I explicitly disagree with his argument. Nor is it the first time that I’ve heard it. Yet, I do wonder about the certainty of his biblical interpretation, particularly as it comes to the Parable of the Wedding Banquet (Matthew 22:1-14). God might surprise us yet.
Fr. Nik, as many others before him, argued as if the meaning of the parable is both clear and specific. (At least to my ear, that’s the way I heard it.) One of those guests let in to the wedding banquet had refused to wear the appropriate wedding garment to the feast. Traditionally, such wedding garments were provided by the host, much as baptismal candidates were presented a white robe upon their baptism to remind them of their now being clothed in Christ. Many see the wedding banquet, an End Time symbol when we will live in the fullness of God, as also representing the Lord’s Supper, “a foretaste of the feast to come.” So, the argument goes, our faith and Baptism (the grace-filled garment) must be worn to the feast (the Lord’s Supper).
I accept the tradition and polity of the historic Church as understood by the ELCA. We do save communing for baptized members of Christ’s Church. Yet, I think it immensely important to point out (but we did not have the time to do so at our gathering) that parables are teaching stories. In Jesus’ time, they were commonly riddles and short stories used as a tool by instructors of all kind. They are meant to be wrestled with and often can have multiple answers and meanings. Despite the apparent certainty of Fr. Nik’s argument, isn’t it possible more is going on here? Isn’t it possible he (and others) have misapplied it to fit their already held liturgical and religious dispositions? What else could God be saying?
Certainly, there is no one way to understand this famous parable and its component pieces. Yes, as mentioned above, baptismal garments were offered the newly baptized (who entered the waters naked) to reflect our “putting on” Christ, our rebirth and regeneration – at least in a number of communities. Yet, that practice only became a norm after Jesus’ resurrection. In the scriptural account, Jesus was speaking to a crowd who would not necessarily make such a connection, even though later Christians might. In this point of his ministry, most of the original audience would likely have interpreted Jesus’ parable through the lens of Jewish scriptures and experience.
If you side with some scholars that argue the story might reflect later teachings of the community of Matthew, you might be assuming a great deal. Even with each Gospel witness being somewhat different, sometimes quite different, I’ve not been convinced by anyone that the writers played with Jesus’ central teachings freely to better fit their specific geographic, cultural context or the current theology. Jesus certainly could have intended elements of the story for future disciples, but that too, is hard to prove. It might be best to look for allusions and connections to the Jewish scriptures; something Jesus’ original audience (and the original audience of Matthew’s Gospel who are widely thought to have been Jewish Christians) would be familiar with. Let’s consider what he is saying to them, and that might help us make better applications today.
In Genesis 3, God made garments of skin to cover Adam and Eve, a sign of God’s grace amidst their rebellion. There are many instructions and commands regarding the use and care of religious garments in the Jewish scriptures. Garments could reflect one’s tribe and one’s purpose. In the Psalms, God’s loving activity and light is often compared to a garment. And the prophets speak of putting on the Lord’s splendor like a garment. So, the original listeners could have made many complimentary interpretations while excluding any particular allusion to Baptism or the Lord’s Supper.
Many argue that the garment at some level represents God’s love, grace, protection and works. It defines who we are and who we trust in through faith; faith itself being a gift. The garment in this parable need not be explicitly or solely connected to Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Indeed, many scholarly and historic interpreters do not limit it in such a way. One modern Orthodox resource alluded to Baptism, but more so, the author argues we will be examined at the End of Time to see if we have shared in a life of repentance within the Church (in their mind, the Orthodox Church alone). Did we desire and accept God’s mercy? It isn’t so much about the Lord’s Supper as much as it is about our entire lives lived in faith within the holy community. Explicitly, the author asked, “Have we lived in the light we have been given?” Perhaps that proves a better understanding of the passage.
Indeed, Pope Gregory the Great argued in a sermon that ultimately the garment is God’s love. “[Jesus] came as a bridegroom to unite Himself to the Church. There was no other means than God’s love by which the Only-begotten could unite the souls of the elect with Himself. This is why John tells us: God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son (John 3:16). He who came to men for love’s sake, calls this love the wedding garment.” To him, this garment has two threads: the love of God and neighbor. As Jesus taught and recorded in Matthew, this is the greatest commandment. This doesn’t necessarily exclude one referencing the Baptism or the Eucharist, but that explicit connection seems a bit forced if Gregory the Great’s argument and many others like it hold true. Indeed, the Jewish foundation of Matthew’s Gospel might promote the greatest commandment being the preferred interpretive lens over any sacramental focus.
So, is it wrong for Fr. Nik and others to use this parable to defend the sanctity of the Lord’s Supper and how we should participate? I don’t think it necessarily is so, but there is a need for caution. It appears this parable might primarily be aimed at something quite different – a simpler application. Trust or faith in Jesus Christ might prove the preferable focus. Love and grace in light of “the fulfillment of the law” might serve as a better, more direct interpretive key. The parable might even be best understood as a warning for Christians not to take their salvation for granted as in Bonhoeffer’s arguments against “cheap grace.” Yet if one believes it to be primarily about Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and the risk of being cast out for receiving the Lord’s Supper improperly (without being baptized, or while being ignorant or ill prepared) then there remain important questions to be addressed.
Does this mean only those who are baptized or who died as martyrs are saved? If someone receives the Eucharist in error or with bad intention or practice, are they without hope? Would that be a mortal sin? (As Roman Catholics understand it, this is a sin that leads to damnation if not confessed and repented of, but Lutherans reject such a hierarchy of sin. All sin separates us from God and one another.) Can faith be enough to save us, even the faith of those who are not yet baptized for whatever reason? Could not God choose to save those who are unbaptized whether infants or those who have not heard of Jesus yet for extenuating circumstances, even as we remain certain that through our faith and participation of the Sacraments we are saved by grace?
And what about those who have had members of the Church act as stumbling blocks to the faith, keeping the “little ones” who would otherwise believe away from Jesus, the Church and the Sacraments? In this last case, one might recall Jesus’ comment that it would be better to die with a millstone around one’s neck and be cast into the sea than be the one who kept the “little one” away. The sin appears to be on those who keep people away from Jesus, not those who are kept away (Matthew 18:6-9). There exist people historically and today who have been kept away from Christian faith through individual abuse and poor witness as well as the corporate power and influence of political and family systems in the Church. If we share in that sin as part of the Church or explicitly, does that mean we will found naked at the feast? I trust from the promises of Christ that will not be the case for us, and I suspect greater grace will be offered to others “outside” the Church than many Christians expect.
In the West (and perhaps the East), it appears historically common to have at times simply interpreted the parable as a call for faith, Baptism, and active life in the Church to include the Lord’s Supper. This doesn’t mean it is the best interpretation. In truth, pastors and theologians, Popes, Patriarchs, Bishops and councils have erred when addressing important issues. This parable was not always deemed explicitly about the Lord’s Supper, and I think it improper to present it as if it was.
To reject the garment was thought to reject God’s grace. But what is the garment explicitly? Anyone out of communion with the Church (as defined by varied dogma, councils, and cannon law; East verses West; Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Protestant or Radical traditions all interpreted differently) was often declared doomed. To not be baptized would doom you. To not receive the Sacraments “rightly” and regularly would doom you. To not believe in approved dogma and previous interpretations of scripture (even when it might be wrong) was believed to doom you. Unfortunately, real life like the parable is never so cut and dry as our too often simplistic interpretations. God’s love is cut from a broader clothe, and I am not sure any of us humans can fully discern the scope and full intentions of God’s grace in the present.
Perhaps like Martin Luther, it is best to trust in, remember, and encourage others to believe in what we know saves us (as promised by Jesus). Through revelation, we know that we are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ, but God might yet have mercy on whomever God wants to. If these folks are saved (shown mercy), I believe it would ultimately be because of Jesus’ sharing our lot through his life, death and resurrection. Yet with our finite wisdom, we can never really know in this life God’s full plan.
Rather than act as if we are God, proclaiming and arguing about who is or will be cast into the pit, perhaps we should be more humble. In condemning others to hell, we risk being unscriptural and walking astray ourselves. (We can address the power of the keys at another time.) Let’s not limit the power of amazing grace, when we don’t understand its full limits.
As the Church already has often done, we of varied denominations might develop policies and procedures regarding the administration of the Sacraments for good order, right theology, or for other good and loving reasons, but we need to always be prepared for grace, a gift that is often unfair and not ours to give. There might just be something more going on in the parable and with the Spirit’s activity in our lives. After all, “for now we see in a mirror, dimly” (see 1 Corinthians 13:12). Certainly, all things remain possible with God (see Matthew 26:25-26). Regarding the Lord’s Supper, God could be doing something new. It is worth talking about even as I listen to the arguments and teachings of the past.
Post Note:As with any of our theology on tap events or podcasts, please remember we are limited by both the time and format. When someone speaks authoritatively, whether me (as a Lutheran Christian), Fr. Nik (as an Episcopalian Christian), or Fr. Adam (as an Orthodox Christian), we are speaking for ourselves as best as we understand scripture and tradition from our context. We certainly can err in the moment as well. To those who listen, our teachings might unintentionally become conflated or we can appear to be in full agreement when we are not. Feel free to ask us questions after the event for further clarification.Also, keep coming back!
For those who live elsewhere, we invite you to listen to the Three Priests Walk in a Bar podcast on Apple Podcast, Spotify and more.
For those who attend our theology on tap meetings, Three Priests Walk in a Bar, you might recall that we originally created a special Facebook group so conversations could continue. Our producer and facilitator, Nick2, similarly invited folks to “pick apart” our gatherings conversation at a later date. Here’s a few more items I wish to share after listening to the recent podcast of the live event held on “Can Christians Worship Together or Not?,” Episode 3.
Source: Pixaby. Used by Permission
During our recent discussions, I told a story of a young man in high school who came forward to the altar in order to commune. As I provided him the body of Christ, he said, “Amen,” consumed it, and added excitedly, “This was my first time!” I did not know this young man or his mother kneeling beside him at the time, but she appeared visibly dismayed. Traditionally, Lutherans prepare young people and new adult members for sharing in the Lord’s Supper. Her body language and facial expression indicated she and her son had done something wrong. In response, I simply said, “Welcome to the Lord’s Table.” Then, I continued to commune others and preside over the closing of our worship together.
Normally, I try to be in the narthex (the entrance area of the church building) to greet both visitors and returning church members to our Sunday service. This mother and son were visitors, but they came in as the service began. In our bulletin, we had an invitation to commune which outlined not only how to commune but also who can commune. (It specifically invited all baptized, communing members of any Christian church to do so.) I approached the mother and son after the service, not only to greet them formally, but to invite the mother and son into deeper relationship with our congregation. I didn’t overtly accuse or correct. I didn’t lecture. I just met them where they were in order that we could walk forward together with Jesus Christ.
It turned out that the family had fallen away from church attendance after moving to our area, but they desired to be one with the church again. How wonderful! Why would I put additional stumbling blocks before them to hinder them from coming to Jesus? Instead, I conversed with them, properly instructed them (especially the son regarding the Lord’s Supper), and we welcomed them into our congregation. The previously baptized young man went on to not only commune regularly but also to become a young adult leader in the congregation – one who continued in relationship with the Church through the rite of confirmation and beyond.
If he had not been baptized, it might have been a mistake or a shame, certainly improper by our polity, but I argue it would not necessarily be a sin for him to commune. A sin and a human mistake are not always the same thing. No evil or affront was intended. In 1 Corinthians 11, Paul does indeed argue against receiving the sacrament unworthily (as Fr. Nik noted), but it seems Paul is primarily addressing disunity in the community and not baptism or knowledge of the Sacrament. He never indicates how often the community should commune, but he expresses concern that some have privatized a communal act. Paul appears most concerned with how our lives relate to Jesus’ own and how love ties us in one body together.
As a result, he encourages self-reflection and examination more than present some theological argument over the form and substance of the elements or whom should be admitted to the supper. (Although some of that might have been assumed by Paul, it isn’t his main point nor preserved in writing.) The good news is that we can repent and be renewed even when facing judgement for our lack of discernment regarding love and unity. “Paul’s counsels are driven not by a veneration of the supper properly observed, but by the Corinthians’ failure to have the supper function among them as it should, namely as a beacon by which to keep their lives on the proper path of faith” (The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Abingdon Press, 2002, p. 938). In Paul’s mind the illness and death in the community is a sign of eschatological judgement for disunity, not some sudden, wrath of God, superstitious punishment for lack of understanding while consuming the Eucharist. He seems to believe it is better not to participate in the meal than to dishonor it with disunity. To receive it improperly (in disunity) profanes the life and death of our Lord (Harper Collins Bible Commentary, Harper San Francisco, 2000, p. 1088).
Perhaps this is why “the kiss of peace” and confession were deemed critical to the Lord’s Supper and reserved only for the baptized in some early communities according to some Roman Catholic sources I’ve read in the past. Yet, this particular passage might not prove a great argument against who should commune or changes in practice. It isn’t really about that. Indeed, Christian communities including the Orthodox have changed some practices regarding the Lord’s Supper over time. For example, even when catechumens are dismissed in certain Orthodox liturgies, they actually don’t leave any more. (Listen to our podcast for more on this.) Reserving reception of the Lord’s Supper to those whom are baptized is primarily based upon the earliest known church practices as observed in and interpreted from scripture. It is a tradition handed down to us. Yet just as the “kiss of peace” (now “the sign of peace”) is now open to all, and catechumens are not actually dismissed any longer, perhaps other changes might be discerned by the Church in who should receive the Eucharist. (I’m not saying we should change, as I value the voices of the past, but people aren’t necessarily evil for raising the question.)
In rebuttal to my personal example above, our Orthodox friend, Fr. Adam, spoke about the necessity of knowing whom you commune and protecting the sanctity of the eucharist by overseeing (if not controlling) who participates. In ordination, the Orthodox priest promises “unto death” to protect the Sacrament. They are thought stewards of this mighty, miraculous gift. Those outside of the Orthodox Church, the only true expression of Church in their understanding, cannot and must not commune. He argued this is not exclusionary but a sign of hope that in the future we may all commune. To have someone unprepared or unworthy to commune is anathema, a grave sin in his tradition. Therefore, he must seek to welcome unfamiliar persons, and it is the responsibility of visiting Orthodox to present themselves to him. The expectation remains that only those properly baptized, confirmed and confessed, free of grave sin, participate. Thus, he inferred that the error in this case was not ultimately the young man’s but the priest’s (mine). In the Orthodox view, I should have stopped him from communing. In fact, he never should have even had the opportunity.
Meanwhile the Evangelical Church in America (ELCA), our pastors when ordained or installed promise to love, serve, and pray for God’s people, nourishing them with the word and sacraments. While respecting the sanctity of the Sacrament and the need to preside in a meet and right way, there is no explicitly, strong guardian language as with the Orthodox, although we understand that we are stewards. We recognize that the Sacraments are a means of grace, not an end in themselves. We understand that we share this responsibility with the congregational council and the people of the congregation as well. The sacrament belongs ultimately to Jesus and is our gift and honor to share.
Among those who commune, Martin Luther and our confessions condemn any requirement for preparatory acts such as confessing or fasting in order to do so. We can perform such practices as a personal spiritual discipline, but they aren’t required, and we receive no merit for salvation with any of our efforts. No one is worthy on their own or by their own efforts of receiving the Lord’s Supper – ever. No one can properly prepare to receive what is this pure gift of grace. At some level the sacrament as a means of grace always remains a mystery. It doesn’t truly belong to any bishop’s office or any pastor, but it remains a gift from Christ left in the care of the priesthood of all believers, administered in accordance with scripture, our confessions and polity. In that sense, we all are stewards of it.
Again, following Apostolic tradition, only those baptized commune. (Although, this is now being debated by some.) We instruct those baptized about to commune for the first time in scripture, our confessional beliefs, and our practices, so that they might better participate and value what they are receiving. The methodology and scope of this training varies widely by community. Hopefully, faith will increase through the training and education (by cooperating with the grace being offered), but no specific training is explicitly mandated or outlined by scripture. Though, it appears to have been a practice to educate new members of the community. Our modern model for it based on early Christian communities, early writings and traditions, but again, they vary widely within our denomination and the wider Church.
Traditionally, many if not most Lutherans appear to have communed upon confirmation. Yet with changes in the Roman Catholic Church under Pope Pius X in the 1920s regarding the age for communing and growing ecumenism, it appears discernment over these issues continued. A pan-Lutheran meeting in the 1960s settled on fifth grade as an appropriate age to commune, or nearly settled, for this wasn’t a mandate. Lutherans began to commune youth members at earlier ages as time passed, fifth grade, and still at confirmation. Today, you still find a wide variety of practices with children communing even younger than second grade at times. Even in some Confessional Lutheran bodies, it is left up to pastoral discretion. As for my practice, I enter conversations with parents to discern what might be best for the Church and the individual child. We remember that the age requirement isn’t scriptural but a practice discerned, developed even changed over time. Through our baptism, we are “qualified” in a sense or made worthy by the Holy Spirit’s presence and claim upon us (received through baptism) to be welcomed at the table. We are saved in Baptism and receiving the Eucharist through grace by faith alone. These Sacraments are deemed special means of grace.
Although requiring preparation and sacrifice for communing is condemned, I have actually heard of some American Lutheran pastors (especially in the 1940/50s) requiring confession before communing. This appears contrary to our common understanding of our confessions, the Book of Concord. We do have a rite to offer private confession, and we most often include confession as part of our Sunday liturgy or other times we share in the Lord’s Supper, but it isn’t required. Like the Orthodox, some Lutherans do require visitors present themselves before communing, and I have even been told of congregations expecting some form or written confirmation of denominational participation before one can commune. Still other Lutheran bodies will not let anyone outside of their denomination participate and refuse altar fellowship between Christian bodies if they don’t accept our Confessions fully. These more restrictive measures prove often to be taken by Confessional Lutheran congregations in my experience and the testimonies I have heard, not members of the Lutheran World Federation and ELCA (90+% of all Lutherans globally.)
In contrast, most congregations seem to just include requirements for communing in the Sunday bulletin or make announcements, and we hope and trust visitors will comply. Some of the common wording will invite any baptized communing Christians to participate. Others add that participants must also affirm the real presence of Christ in the Sacrament. We often explicitly explain our understanding of the Sacrament and mention our expectations for communing before weddings, funerals and community worship services where we sometimes celebrate the Eucharist and know many from other traditions might be present. Like the Orthodox, offering the Lord’s Supper at weddings and funerals remains rare, but it is allowed.
Whatever our policy, the majority of Lutherans do not usually challenge people at the altar rail from what I have seen and heard, although perhaps some Confessional Lutherans might. In practical terms, we do not always have the capacity (especially in a 200+ person church) to engage everyone before the service. So, again, trust might be required that people will accept our training, requests and guidance. Ushers, greeters and people in the pews are also asked to help with the welcome and orientation to the service. If people come to the rail, we usually commune them. If they did so in error and we come to know this, pastors tend to meet them later to offer future guidance and instruction. It might be deemed sloppy if not wrong by Fr. Adam and our Orthodox brothers and sisters, but I suspect God has a way of “protecting” the Eucharist better than we do. Here, my supposed “error” providentially led the young man and his family into deeper faith and rootedness in the Church likely because I responded pastorally; taking our theological and scriptural stances seriously while seeking to meet people where they are.
As much as I hear our Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Confessional Lutheran friends framing the need for theological, denominational compliance prior to communing as a hopeful thing, I struggle to accept that. It focuses on division more than welcome. It puts into question the power of our shared baptism. I accept the historic teaching and guidance that only baptized, believing Christians should commune, but if we worship the same Lord and share in baptism, why not commune together? No one properly and fully understands this mystery. I agree with John XXIII that there is more that unites us than divides us. I have witnessed grace in the way pastors and communities welcomed outsiders to the table – sometimes making pastoral exceptions to the common rules. Some communities such as Taizé seem particularly creative in their welcome. Therefore, I accept the benefit of communal standards while arguing for sensitivity and grace.
It brings to mind a story shared by Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche:
“A young girl with a mental disability made her First Communion during a beautiful celebration of the Eucharist. After the ceremony her uncle said to her mother: ‘What a beautiful liturgy! The sad thing is that she did not understand anything.’ The young girl overheard this remark and said to her mother: ‘Don’t worry, Mommy, Jesus loves me as I am.’”
Perhaps, just perhaps, we self-assured bishops, pastors and lay leaders could learn something about the Eucharist from her?
The season of Easter is the high point of the Christian church year, lasting not just one day but a fabulous fifty! As the ELCA notes, “The season is an extended feast wherein the paschal candle is lit at every service as a sign of the risen Christ.” Along with the spring flowers and other festive colors, we will hear and sing many musical pieces. Where would we be without beautiful sounds to go along with the sights of Easter?
Christ Lutheran’s Palm Sunday Cantata, 2019
“This is the Feast,” “Christ the Lord is Risen Today,” “Crown Him with
Many Crowns,” and so many other canticles and hymns bring back memories of the
past and joy in our present. Yet, the music doesn’t just help set a mood for
our worship. Martin Luther believed it had a holy purpose saying, “Next to the
Word of God, music deserves the highest praise. The gift of language combined
with the gift of song was given to [us] that [we] should proclaim the Word of
God through Music.”
Throughout Lent, our choirs and bell choirs of all ages worked
diligently under the leadership of Tim Wilson, our Music Director, and Susan
Morin, our Organist, to prepare a joyful noise with a meaningful paschal
message. From the Palm Sunday Cantata, Holy Week, and Easter through Pentecost,
our worship experience is enriched by our dynamic music ministry.
Thanks to one and all who help our congregation rejoice and sing. You make a loving difference as your music stirs our hearts while engaging our minds and spirits as well.
Originally published in The Hub, a weekly email of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Christ Lutheran’s font ready for an Easter baptism (2019).
As I write this, we have just entered the Church’s most special
time of celebration. (Yes, even more special than Christmas.) We are
celebrating the Three Days (also called the Triduum). During this time, we
remember Jesus giving us a new command to love one another, but also to share
in the Lord’s love for us, Holy Communion. “Do this in remembrance of me.” We
then recall Christ’s suffering for our sake. On Good Friday, Jesus gave his
life so that we might live with him forever. Christians argue about the mechanics
of this mystery, but somehow, someway through the love of God, those who trust
in Jesus will share in eternal, abundant life. And finally, we celebrate Easter
(traditionally called Pascha) with shouts, “Jesus is risen! He is risen
indeed!” We welcome the day and one another in celebration of Christ’s
resurrection.
But is that really, finally it? No! The Church celebrates the gifts
of Easter for fifty days. During the Season of Easter, we will hear tales of
the early Church and promises of Christ coming again. The Easter cycle
concludes with Pentecost, the day we remember the Holy Spirit descending upon
the first people who will become “Church.” Empowered by that same Spirit
through our faith and baptism, we share in all the gifts of being Church
together with them and all those saints who will come after us.
And even then, it isn’t over. Each Sunday is meant to be a little
Easter. We welcome new members to Christ’s family through baptism. We regularly
recall and share in the Lord’s Supper. We remember the sacred stories of God’s
love for us and especially the Risen Christ. We are a Paschal People called to
gather so that we can be sent out to point others to the love of God; the love
made most clear through Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection for our sake.
In our life together, Jesus proclaims we are to be his body. People will see Jesus through our shared fellowship, worship and service as we love one another. And as with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, we might just catch a glimpse of the Risen Christ on our way. The promises of scripture might even begin to burn just a bit more warmly within us, perhaps with greater clarity and certainty, as we walk this road together.
Dear Church, I pray we experience a blessed Easter, a life with Christ which lasts forever in joy.
“Praise the Lord, all you nations! Extol him, all you peoples! For great is his steadfast love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord!” (Psalm 117)
Originally published in the May 2019 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
“Have
I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, says the Lord God, and not rather
that they should turn from their ways and live?” (Ezekiel 18:23)
As I write, it is just a few days until we turn from
the glorious highs of Transfiguration Sunday to go down into the liturgical
valley of Lent. During Lent, many of our readings sound quite stark if not
frightening. “Turn back! Repent!” shout God’s many prophets. Reminders of
death, doubt and darkness seem everywhere. Our furnishings, dress and colors,
especially the ashes of Ash Wednesday, remind us of our fragility and (too
often) our failures.
Yet, I recall with joy the words attributed to Teresa
of Avila, “From silly devotions and sour-faced saints, good Lord, deliver us.”
We don’t need to make a show of our sorrow and weakness. We don’t have to beat
ourselves up, run away, or hide in fear. Instead, we can rejoice in Christian
community, a place where we can be accepted as we are. There, we hear words of
love, forgiveness and hope from other people who also struggle and yet speak
for Jesus. “You are welcome here!”
In this season, we can indeed challenge ourselves to
do better, listen more attentively, seek and serve the Jesus in others we meet with
more heart. Yet, we offer this love not to gain ground toward heaven, but
instead, to experience a taste of the love which has already reached down into
the valley for us.
Yes, Lent can appropriately be called a holy if not
solemn time. Yet solemnity need not mean rigidity and coldness. Although tears
might flow, we need not get stuck in them. Lent can be a time of open hearts
and deep sincerity. It serves as a liturgical call for us to turn back and take
notice; to be refreshed and renewed.
In turning back, we might better see Jesus at work
around us and in us. We won’t ever be perfect in this life, but Jesus uses this
time in the Church to help remind us of his perfect, gracious love for us. It is
meant to serve as a bit of springtime for our lives, as we continue grow as the
children of God.
Originally published in the March 2019 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
What was one of the simple things that people did to
make me feel at home again at Christ Lutheran? They asked me my favorite color.
The answer is blue, and this became a challenge to our flower team. They went
out of their way to find blue flowers during a season when they are hard to
come by. Those responsible succeeded (using hydrangeas mixed with other flowers
and even blackberries from someone’s yard), and they were beautiful. This
reminded me how all our worship services are cared for down to the smallest
detail.
So often, it is the small things that matter most in
welcoming others. Once, I had a couple join my congregation just because the
altar guild had prepared to welcome them with gluten wafers. I have seen that
if the sanctuary was too dark, too light, too cold or hot, perhaps the mic
isn’t working just right, or in any other way things seem uncomfortable (even
dirty restrooms), it proves a hindrance to worship and relationship.
Thankfully, our property team stays on top of this. And when my friends and
family shared their first impressions from my installation, they mentioned the spirit-filled
music as well as the authentic friendliness of those in attendance. Everything
that had been done and all who were there made them feel welcome.
In planning, preparing and attending worship, we don’t
just do so for our benefit. We gather and serve to welcome others in Jesus’
name.
Originally published in The Hub, a weekly email of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” (Matthew 9:37)
It is harvest time again! After a milder summer with a good amount of rain, I see many gardens overflowing. Nearly a ton of fresh vegetables have been harvested in All Souls’ community garden alone to feed our hungry neighbors. More is likely to be harvested throughout September. We are blessed to share in that effort as well as that of our community food pantry, MCEF.
Yet, we have neighbors who hunger for much more than food. In the upcoming months, we’ll need to feed the souls of those participating in worship, as well as others longing for the word of God through our Christian formation programs and witness. We’ll be asked to help Hanover Habitat in its mission to provide affordable, quality homes to our neighbors. We’ll seek to help the local Gideon’s comfort and enrich travelers, military members and others by providing Bibles. We’ll be feeding the intellect, heads, hearts and stomachs of our preschool and after school students. We’ll be actively preparing our house of faith to better welcome those with physical and intellectual disabilities. At times, we’ll be visiting the sick, suffering and dying. At other times, we’ll celebrate God’s creation through arts and crafts as well as our pets. At all times, we’ll continue to walk with our homeless brothers and sisters – especially those in our congregation – toward greater stability and renewal. This is just a short list of the harvest our shared ministry yields all year long. As busy as it may get, we are asked by Jesus to love one another, so we’ll plan to have some fun together too.
I once saw a sign that said, “Church is a verb.” As a past English major, I can’t strictly agree with that, but I do agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment. We are the church. We were created to be living, growing beings who share a living, growing faith in active community. We are God’s hands and feet, and our faces shine upon others with the love of God.
If you have been away, distracted, or just plain unavailable, think about returning once again to the mission field with us. We invite you to worship, bible study, prayer and service, but I think you’ll find it filled with fellowship and fun. Your life will be enriched along with the lives of others. It is as scripture tells us, “Faith without works is dead.” Instead, Jesus’ desires to offer us an abundant life; one so full of love that it overflows to bless the lives of others. Even our most humble attempts to share faith, hope and love will even be used to usher in the kingdom of God.
Trust that our labor together will not be in vain, for it is God who sends us. Why not come, taste and see? Why not have your vision and sense of family and purpose renewed? Welcome back to another year at Messiah Lutheran! Let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work.
Learn about upcoming events and more at mlcas.org or our news pages. (Be sure to check out the “more news” tab for hot off the press information.)
Originally submitted for Messiah Lutheran’s newsletter, The Messenger (September 2014).
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation. This post was first published in The Messenger, the newsletter of Messiah Lutheran Church (June 2014).
Epiphany, also historically known as “Little Christmas,” marks the end of Christmas celebrations in Western Christendom on January 6th. The arrival of the Magi is often remembered as part of these celebrations. Although scripture never numbers the gentile Magi who came to worship Jesus, a tradition developed that there were three; each one baring a special gift of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They became popularly known as Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar and are often artistically represented as being of different peoples and races, for Jesus came to offer salvation to all.
Over time, a popular custom began to bless one’s home on Epiphany with the words in Latin, Christus Mansionem Benedicat (May Christ bless this house). I surmise this was because of the biblical scene from Matthew 2: 1-12. (Jesus was no longer in the stable but described to be in a house with his own family when the Magi visit.) Yet, I have not confirmed the origin of this practice. The first letter from each word of this blessing corresponds to the traditional names given the Magi. Which came first – the blessing or the names – remains a mystery, but their development within popular culture is likely related.
As we move forward into a new year, I suggest use of a simple blessing ceremony I have adapted from the internet. You can further adapt it to meet your family’s needs:
Leader: Peace be to this house and to all who dwell here, in the name of the Lord.
All: Blessed be God forever.
Reading: Matthew 2:1-12
Using chalk, write on the outside of your house’s door or frame (alternatively, on a path or driveway, or above or next to an entrance):
+ 20 C M B 14 +
This stands for the first half of the current year written out, Christus Mansionem Benedicat (Christ bless this house), then the other half of the current year written out. Start and end with a cross.
Optionally, the entire phrase may be written out. Each marking or word could be written by a varied member of the household if desired. The leader can share a prayer of their own or simply ask God to bless your home as the markings are made.
When finished, all can join in a closing prayer – “Lord God of heaven and earth, you revealed your only begotten Son to every nation by the guidance of a star. Bless this house and all who inhabit it. May we be blessed with health, goodness of heart, gentleness and the keeping of your law. Fill us with the light of Christ, that our love for each other may go out to all. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
May a joyful and blessed Epiphany be yours!
Pastor Lou
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
Husband, Pastor, Law Enforcement Chaplain, and member of the Clerical Errors (aka "The Three Priests"), I'm sharing my two cents with anyone who cares...
You can also find me on social media as Loudluthrn (Lou-d-Luthrn or Lou the Lutheran). It is a moniker given me while attending a Presbyterian Seminary, but I'm a loud and proud Lutheran too (just not too loud and proud, mind you).
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