A Red State Mystic.

(Note: This is a video of the Sarum Mass, which was indigenous to England before the Roman Rite began to be widely practiced. The video begins with the Sanctus, then there is the consecration of the elements and the elevations (3:40-5:20), followed by the Benedictus. I think its a good representation of what I speak of below, namely, the holiness associated with the Elevation.)

I HAVE WANTED to read Eamon Duffy's The Stripping of the Altars since I first heard about it over at The Ship of Fools (where else would one hear about such things?) some time ago. The book is all about popular English piety from the late medieval ages through the English Reformation. Simply put, his thesis is that in spite of Henry and the Puritans, your average lay folk in England remained Catholic in thought and practice. This is why the Reformation in England was not as complete as it was elsewhere; many were unwilling to give up the idea of England as "Mary's Dowry" (much to the chagrin of those dastardly Reformers!). He explains this thesis through exhaustive research, witty stories and all the liturgical ephemera that you can shake a stick at. In short, it is a giddy playground for a Church nerd like me.

I RECEIVED THE book on Monday am already almost a quarter of the way through its six hundred pages-- it is that good. Anyway, one of the interesting tidbits is that for your average lay person, the most holy moment in the Mass was the Elevation of the elements. This, of course, takes place after the words of Institution ('this is my body . . .") and the Priest hoists the host high above his head for all in the congregation to see. Bells were used to draw the congregant out of her own prayers and to direct her attention to the altar, where it was about to happen. It was the holiest moment because most did not receive the Sacrament but once a year at Easter, so to gaze adoringly on your Lord in the host was the next best thing.

WE HAVE KEPT both the bells and the elevation in this day, but perhaps not with the depth of emotional piety that our ancestors did. I'm sure this is just a byproduct of being able to commune at every Mass and the fact that we overhear every word that the Priest says (so it is more difficult to have our own prayers). In large part, we have a better educated laity, but have traded in some of the holy awe that comes from ignorance of such matters. Most people have at least a basic understanding of Aquinas' idea of Transubstantiation and are not afraid to speak of the Holy Mysteries in mixed company -- which usually leads to arguments.

I KNOW, I know, you're probably thinking I want to return us to the good ole' days of the Medieval period when men were men and the women weren't, but I really don't. In many ways I think the Holy Spirit has lead us marvelously out of those days. I'm just wondering if in our rush to reform and our rush to understand new realms of knowledge that were not opened up to us before (like knowing specifically what was going on at Mass) we've traded in something that could be worthwhile in this day and age.

I'M NOT SURE sure who got the short end of the deal: those illiterate lay folk in the Medieval ages or our super-knowledgeable over-opinionated laity of today. Of which, surely, I am one.

TODAY HAS BEEN a good day. My parish had its yearly visitation from our Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Charles G. vonRosenberg, who I think has the greatest name and Carolinian accent ever. Sundries aside, he came to confirm and reaffirm about twenty people -- the majority under the age of thirty (Yes. You read that correctly). They were all there, of course: white, black, male, female, conservative, liberal, gay, straight, young and old. Some were your standard Episcopal fare, some were wonderfully not. Their diversity is a testament to the Gospel of Christ that is shown at the Altar and incarnated in the lives of our family, however imperfect they may be. I've had the pleasure of getting to know the most of the Confirmands and am excited to see where and how God will use them in the future. During the liturgy, they all stood in front of the Bishop and when asked about their renewing their commitment to Jesus Christ, they responded: ". . . with God's grace I will follow him as my Savior and Lord." Amen.

AMONG THE CONFIRMANDS was my best friend, a fellow Milligan student and former roommate. I had the privilege to be his sponsor. And words fail me, except that it was an honor to stand with him.

AS I WAS waiting with him for his turn in front of the Bishop, the scene was striking. There we were in the middle of the Nave, in the middle of the line of twenty. Directly in front of us was the Bishop who was seated on a makeshift Throne. To his left stood a Deacon holding a Prayer Book and the Crozier. In front of the Bishop, on either side were some of the teachers of the Confirmation class, all facing each other. My Priest was standing along with with them. Directly to our left and right were pews filled with the faithful. It was as if we were in a tunnel that led to the Bishop. It struck me as being a foreshadow of the heavenly court, where Christ is seated amidst his faithful people, as they are presented to Him. We're all presented and presenting.

(Note: A friend asked me for my definition of a mystic tonight. Even though I dabble in Christian Mystical thought and have had a few first-hand experiences, I do not consider myself an expert. But I was on hand, so I answered the best I could. Here follows my answer.)

A MYSTIC IS not someone who lives in the ether: a true Christian Mystic is not someone who is so "heavenly minded that they're no earthly good". Nor is a mystic someone who performs great feats of holy strength like live on a pillar for forty days or retire to the desert for the rest of their life, only living on the Eucharist. Nor is a mystic someone who has vague notions about the divine and what that looks like in the day-to-day life. Yes, a mystic may do these things: they may seem foolish to the world, they may have great acts of purgation, and seem to live in "the grey area" because they cannot adequately express their interaction with the divine. But these things alone, do not a mystic make.

TO ME, I think a mystic is someone who believes that through prayer, union with the Divine is probable, possible and to be desired. By this broad definition, I believe that most Christians are mystics by default. This world of prayer and union with the divine, though probably not thought about, is actually practiced by many Christians, whether they call it theosis, sanctification, or whatever. There are Protestant Mystics (I'm reminded of AW Tozer, especially) and Orthodox Mystics and Roman Catholic Mystics and yes, even Anglican Mystics. To them, prayer is more than just communication with the Godhead, but it is -- through Christ -- the immersion of the soul in God like (as St. Teresa put it) a drop of water in a rushing river.

AN ACTUAL EXPERT, Evelyn Underhill defined it in her book Practical Mysticism as "the art of union with Reality." I think this is marvelous! Let me explain:

SIN AND THE sinful nature is something that is not based in Reality. I think this is most clearly seen in the sin of lust. When someone looks at pictures of an illicit nature, it invokes in the viewer feelings, perhaps emotionally, but most certainly physically the idea that there is some sort of intimacy between the viewer and what is being viewed. Whereas in Reality, viewer is simply looking at pixels or the printed page or whatever. What about when a woman desires for a married man. Though he may reciprocate the feelings and actions, it still does not remove the Reality that he is one flesh with his wife.

SIN IS NOT based in Reality. What about someone who engages in gluttony? Though (in Reality) they have eaten themselves full, they still desire more, thinking that they are hungry for whatever reason. Or the sin of Pride? Someone is prideful if they have an inflated view of themselves that is not based on the Reality that they are in need of Kyrie Eleison. I think this can be shown with all the other sins, too, but I need not labor the point.

SIN -- IN ITS very nature -- is the denial of Reality. By sinning, we've mutated and distorted Reality to suit our own desires, pleasures and needs. All of them: from Lust to Pride, from Greed to Gluttony are a false world we've made for ourselves. Its as if we've built all this massive amount of scaffolding around our souls in a vain attempt to reshape Reality into what we think it should be. We've built intimacy where there is none, we value what is worthless, we've built barns and bigger barns when there should be liberal giving. Sin is a false world whose consequences are felt in our own souls and bodies and in the souls and bodies of others.

A MYSTIC, HOWEVER, strives to let God purge themselves of these false worlds -- these huge scaffoldings that surround of the soul -- through complete submission to God. Describing this in Open Mind, Open Heart, Thomas Keating writes that "Contemplative prayer is the world in which God can do anything." I think this is true: through contemplative prayer, fasting and other such practices, the mystic allows God to tear down those false worlds that he has joyfully made. Perhaps, she prays most deeply the worlds of Our Lord, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

BEING A MYSTIC, therefore is all about the art of union with Reality. Both the Reality of God and the world as it truly is. The Reality that the soul is situated in the hand of God (as Julian put it) like something smaller than a Hazelnut in your own palm. Through the brightness of mystical experiences or that purgative Dark Night of St. John of the Cross there is the union with God. But also, in that Reality, there is a deeper connection with the world -- the world as it truly is. The Christian mystic sees the world for what it truly is: fallen, but being redeemed; broken, but being healed; and offering nothing, but the breaking forth for the Kingdom of God.

THEREFORE, THE MYSTIC'S priorities are vastly different than that of the average person. In storing up treasure in heaven, they are seen as foolish to the world. In their radical submission to God like a living sacrifice, they might do odd things. From a worldly perspective, they seem to live in the ether (often accused of being "absent minded professors"). Their "vague" notions are anything but an actual face-to-face interaction with that Reality. That interaction with Reality is so different from what is known, that it is confusing to those who only know the scaffolding. And by that interaction God tears down scaffolding and the mystic helps others to let Him do the same.

IN SHORT, THEY commune with Truth.

BACK IN THE day (as in October 25th) I wrote a post that explained my own personal feelings about the Bishop of Rome's offering a home to angry Anglicans in the Roman Church -- as long as they submit to him. I offered precious little in the way of understanding the offer, as I can't add more than what numerous commentators have already said. Last evening, however, everything changed. After getting off of work, a new understanding of the situation was given to me in what seemed like a dream. As my good friend AO used to say, "It was as if God reached down and punched me in the throat." And indeed, He did. And I'd like to share that with you.

ANYONE WHO HAS taken the SAT knows that a major portion of the test is made up of analogies. Surely, you must know these quite well, but here's a sample just in case you can't remember: A maniple is to a Mass as _____ is to getting into heaven. Of course, you know the answer is faith, because a maniple is always required for a Mass to valid; so is faith to get into the heavenly realms. Simple enough, right?

ANALOGIES ARE NOT only the bane of pimply, hormonal and awkwardly lanky teenagers, but are also the bane of plump Christians throughout the world, since the scriptures are filled with them. One cannot peruse the Gospel of Matthew with out discovering the phrase The Kingdom of God is like . . . on just about ever sentence. Our Lord used metaphors and analogies to make a point or jab at the Pharisees in his parables. As they told me in Sunday School, A parable is an earthly story with a heavenly meaning. Its even in our hymnody with this little line from St. Thomas Aquinas: Types and shadows have their ending. So, God likes saying stuff is like stuff because of this stuff. And you get a new stuff comes from all that stuff.

THIS NEW UNDERSTANDING for the Roman Question comes from Star Trek: The Next Generation (of holy memory). Let me explain:

YOU SEE, THE Anglican Communion is like the Federation. We've got all these autonomous ships flying about the galaxy without much to do with each other. This is just like how the AC is made up of autonomous Churches throughout the world, all spreading the Gospel in their own way. Some are Captained by women (TEC) or by overly excited men too focused on sex (Nigeria) or by wise, bald British men (the C of E). Each of the ships have their own mission, either to seek out life or to boldy go where no man has gone before -- you know, whatever. They live in relative peace and harmony, even though the disagree occasionally. Need I labor this any longer?

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH is like the crew of USS Enterprise 1701-D (or E, if you please). Our Data is ++KJS, who brilliantly leads and informs with the a cool, low voice and lock jaw. We've got Counselor Troy in our touchy-feely-o-my-God-we-can't-offend-the-Muslims-crowd. We have our passionate warriors like Will Riker and Worf with +Spong (eww) and +Ackerman (whoops, he left).We've got Will Crusher in the fact that we have the gays who have too close of a relationship with their mothers. We've got the African Americans (Geordi and Guinan). I'm even sure we have people who have posed for magazines of ill repute! Just like the Enterprise what unites Episcopalians is a common faith (er, the Prime Directive?) and a common mission (the Baptismal Covenant). We like reason and science. Need I labor this any longer?

THE ROMAN CHURCH, therefore is like the Borg. The Borg, you might recall, are a race of Cyborgs who assimilate other races into their collective. Each individual Borg has no sense of individuality, but shares all of its thoughts with the rest of those Borgs. When Borgs get away from their Collective, they begin to get lonely. This is just like the Romans, except the "Collective" is the voice of tradition throughout the two thousand year history of the Church. They lose a lot of individuality with all those voices of tradition screaming in their ears. They are no longer Sally or Bill, but "3 of 5". You must coordinate with the collective's stance on birth control or whatever. The Borgs only focus on assimilating entire cultures (seldom attacking individuals). This is just like the Roman desire to see entire Anglo-Catholic parishes come over to Rome, keeping their Prayer Books and (now MAYBE keep) their married Priests! The Borg have a Queen, so do the Romans (and we all know who she is!) Need I labor this any longer?

WELL, IT ALL makes sense to me now. Clearly.

(Note: Intrepid friend and roommate, RJ was gracious enough to chastize me that Kyrie Eleison is, in fact, Greek and not Latin. This has been edited below. I did know this and had a momentary lapse of reason -- but doesn't calling it Latin make it more poetic, even though not correct? :D Thank you, RJ, for showing me the error of my sinful ways.)

I'LL BE HONEST with you, I have mixed feelings about All Souls' Day (I'm sure you just dropped your coffee and yelled to your wife [who at that moment was removing the curlers from her hair in the bathroom], "Come Quick! Andy disagrees with Tradition! This is gonna be juicy!"). Praying for the dead is quite traditional and attested from the earliest of Christian sources. I don't think its unbiblical (like that's ever stopped me) or unnatural or even unhealthy. In fact, I do it for those exact reasons: it is traditional, biblical, natural and healthy. What always trips me up is whether it is effectual or not. Does praying for the dead make a lick of difference?

I SUPPOSE THE real issue here is the concept of the afterlife. I think I share more in common with my Eastern Orthodox brethren when it comes to the afterlife than I do with the Calvinists down the street. Simply put: we will all experience the Second Coming of Christ, but those who are being redeemed will experience it as ecstasy. Those who have not turned to God will experience it as great pain. Hell is simply the experience of that one person in the hands of an all-loving, almighty God and Heaven is, too. That pain of hell-within-the-human-heart is purgative, however, and eventually gives away to ecstasy. This is attested in the West by Julian of Norwich and C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce, among others. One might say that I'm a hopeful Universalist.

EVEN THOUGH I think this is how it will all turn out, I can't be sure. Of course, the Calvinists could be correct that God is eternally angry and has already chosen those he wants in heaven and those who will be eternally separated from Himself -- without hope of redemption. One can never be sure about the hereafter, though. I think it was seraphimsigrist who wrote once that talking about the afterlife is like a child-in-the-womb thinking about what life would be like outside of the womb. I found this very helpful, for I think we use images, types, shadows and talk-in-between-words to express that inexpressible thing that is Christian hope. I don't know what the afterlife will look like. I don't know who is going to "heaven" or to "hell" or if those have any meaning at all. I don't know, because its a world I've never been to and I've only had the slightest of foretaste in the Eucharist.

WHAT DO I know? Well, t does frightens me that all I know can all be summed up so succinctly in that old Latin Greek phrase: Kyrie Eleison. All of my knowledge (which is very little) leads back to God's mercy. All that I have done with my life is only a tiny testament to His mercy. His mercy is what sustains all life and gives it breath. All I know and experience -- and perhaps ever known and experienced -- is God's mercy. I think, therefore, any discussion of the afterlife and what we think might happen (or even when discussing the biblical evidence) needs to start and end with Kyrie eleison. This will keep our conversations and ideas grounded in the reality of his mercy (which is essentially a posture of humility).

DON'T WORRY I am working my way back to the celebration of All Souls' Day. All this discussion, however, of Kyrie Eleison reminds me of a scene in Charles Williams' novel, The War in Heaven, where the Holy Grail has been discovered in early 20th Century England. In one scene, the evil guys start attacking the grail from a distance through black rituals. Those who have been put in charge of the Grail's protection see it start to disintegrate before their very eyes. In a panic, one of the good guys turns to the main good guy (the Archdeacon) and says, "What can we pray against to stop this?" The Archdeacon simply replies, "We don't pray against anything. We pray that God would continue to sustain the world." They do and the attack is thwarted.

I DO NOT celebrate All Souls' Day or pray for the deceased because I think its effectual. At least, I'm not sure its effectual in any typical way: that it cools the fires of Purgatory or frees souls from hell (remember, I'm not so sure about those things, anyway). No, I pray that God would continue to sustain, care and love the dead. That the Lord shall make good his loving kindness. Truly, that thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever. Especially, that He would despise not then the works of thine own hands. That God would sustain and love for the dead -- as much as for the living -- for they, too, are in the palm of the most High God, whose property it is always to have mercy. That they may be wrapped up in his love, that they may have rest eternal granted unto them and that light perpetual shine upon them.

THIS IS WHY I celebrate All Souls' Day. Because it is yet another reminder of Kyrie Eleison, that the living and dead are always in the sight of the Lord and in His loving and tender care. That their journey (and ours) happens only because he is our very ground of being is always merciful.

"Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord : Lord, hear my voice.
O let thine ears consider well : the voice of my complaint.
If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss : O Lord, who may abide it?
For there is mercy with thee : therefore shalt thou be feared.
I look for the Lord; my soul doth wait for him : in his word is my trust.
My soul fleeth unto the Lord : before the morning watch, I say, before the morning watch.
O Israel, trust in the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy : and with him is plenteous redemption.
And he shall redeem Israel : from all his sins (Ps. 130)."

INDEED, WE AND all the Souls of the Faithfully Departed flee unto you, O Lord. Kyrie Eleison

THIS WAS A reading for Morning Prayer of All Saints' Day. I hadn't read it before, found it particularly moving and thought I'd pass it along your way:

"I, Ezra, saw on Mount Zion a great multitude that I could not number, and they all were praising the Lord with songs. In their midst was a young man of great stature, taller than any of the others, and on the head of each of them he placed a crown, but he was more exalted than they. And I was held spellbound. Then I asked an angel, ‘Who are these, my lord?’ He answered and said to me, ‘These are they who have put off mortal clothing and have put on the immortal, and have confessed the name of God. Now they are being crowned, and receive palms.’ Then I said to the angel, ‘Who is that young man who is placing crowns on them and putting palms in their hands?’ He answered and said to me, ‘He is the Son of God, whom they confessed in the world.’ So I began to praise those who had stood valiantly for the name of the Lord (2 Esdras 2:42-47)."

And this lovely little line from the Epistle to the Hebrews that describes the Old Testament Saints, but can be easily applied to those who knew Christ and made Him known:

"They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented— of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground (11:37-38, emphasis mine)."

WONDERFUL LITTLE PASSAGES, are they not?

I AM FEELING punchy -- you've been warned. Last night, my roommate had a close, mutual friend of ours over to carve pumpkins. Of course, being nerdier concerning things of an ecclesiastical nature than I, he couldn't resist carving the Episcopal Shield and setting it next to our statue of St. Francis. Doing this, he bypasses Halloween altogether and heads straight towards The Feast of All Saints. As God intended, of course.

I DID NOT, however, take part in their pagan celebrations by carving cucurbitas. No, instead, I went in for the whole kit-and-kaboodle Halloween experience by seeing Paranormal Activities with one of my best friends. Truly, it was the scariest movie that I've ever seen. Plus, it was well done! I liked the characters, the writing wasn't terrible, the acting was great and my spine was tingled for most of the evening. After dropping my friend off, I had to listen to bad Christian radio with its horrid harmonies to clear the air, so to speak. It was that frightening.

IN OTHER NEWS, a friend on Facebook was asking if anyone knew any "potions or spells that turn leaves into money?" I responded that there is surely something in the back of the Prayer Book for this. Well, there isn't. I looked. So, I humbly give you this:

NO DOUBT, YOU'VE all heard that Rome is offering a home for Anglicans -- both in and out of communion with Canterbury. The offer: submit to the Roman Catholic Church and you can keep your thoroughly Anglican ways, everything from the Prayer Book to married Priests. This is an open invitation to whole communities who are dissatisfied with the current state of Anglicanism. Whether that dissatisfaction be the conversation over Women Bishops (in the C of E), the consecration of +Gene Robinson (in TEC), or anything else. Of course, what I find ironic about all of this is that the Anglo-Catholic parishes this is intended to reach probably don't use the Prayer Book and are more "Roman" in style and practice than the Roman Catholic St. So-and-So's down the street. Anyway, there is much commentary on a variety of blogs (just visit those in the sidebar) that I feel I have nothing more to offer in terms of understanding this action. That is, except my personal feelings.

SINCE THE ANNOUNCEMENT, many have come up to me and asked me if I have plans on taking the Papal offer. Friends from my Parish said they thought of me immediately when the announcement was made and my not-so-crypto-Papism. When I was back at my Alma Mater for a rehearsal on Wednesday, I was stopped by a few friends asking me what I was going to do.

OF COURSE, THEY are not without recourse for thinking that. I once wrote a serious of posts entitled Don't Be Shocked If You End Up Back Home, which detailed my spiritual journey to almost becoming Roman Catholic. It would have happened, if AO hadn't offered me to go to Church with him back in '06 (Thanks, Andy!). The real clincher, so to speak, was hearing ++Katherine. Anglicanism was the way that I could practice the Catholic faith once delivered to the Apostles and Saints without the Dogma and Pontiff of the Roman Church.

I AM A self-titled Anglo-Catholic (of the Prayer Book variety). I pray the Rosary, believe in the Transubstantiation and genuflect-to-my-heart's-content (bow to the altar, knee to the tabernacle) without disagreement. I make statements that I think that all should be facing East and that Latin is of high priority, though it is not Our Lady's native tongue (ie. the Queen's English). The Daily Office and the Mass are the bread-and-butter of my prayer life; I own a copy of the Anglican Breviary and know how to use it; The St Augustine's Prayer Book is always nearby. The Sacrament of Reconcliation at least once a month. I follow the calendar and I always set a goal to fast on Fridays. I personally prefer that the Eucharist be done with as much solemnity and holy awe as possible: to look and smell more like a Roman Mass than the Protestant equivalent. Oh yeah, and don't call me Protestant -- that pisses me off.

LIKE MY OTHER friends and fellow parishioners, you're probably asking yourself, "Is he going to take the Roman option?" Let me see if I can adequately answer this:

1. Obviously, I could easily become Roman without much change in my day-to-day life. But, I'm not Roman for a reason: the Anglican Ethos. In a few ways like our Roman mother (and in so many ways unlike her), Anglicanism is the home of a broad Catholicity. Within Anglicanism, we have and celebrate everything from the highest-of-the-high to the lowest-of-the-low and everything in between, celebrating all streams as a valid and authentic expression of the faith once delivered to the Apostles and Saints.
2. That's because, at least to me, the faith once delivered to the Apostles and Saints consists not in whether or not one prays the Rosary or engages the Confessional, but the faith once delivered is the Creeds. As long as a person professes that same faith in Creeds, I trust their own judgment (in union with their Bishop, spiritual director, and community) in how to best live out the faith they profess.
3. As far as I can tell, Rome defines Catholicity as specifically as possible. Everything from stances on contraception to disbelief in the Immaculate Conception of Our Lady are all grounds for excommunication (though seldom enforced). Yes, the Creeds are there, but there is so much more that is required to be a member in good standing. Faith, as I understand the Roman view, seems to be found in specific ideologies, not in the theology of the Church. While I agree with many of their ideologies, I do not and will not use those ideologies as a litmus test to see who is a truer Christian.

To me, therefore, becoming under the allegiance of the Roman Pontiff and their dogma (even though I believe most of it) would mean that I would give up this broad catholicity that Anglicanism so wonderfully incarnates. In short: in becoming Roman Catholic, I would give up being Catholic. Do I have my problems with The Episcopal Church? Yes, but in my opinion, these are not creedal issues; therfore, I do not see them requiring that I fly elsewhere.

FINALLY: ONE OF the things I loved about working at Atlanta's Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter is that the hot topics of Anglican politics never came up. I mean, they never came up (the one time that it did, a member said, "If we get kicked out of the Anglican Communion, will someone email us?"). My theory: the reason why it never came up was because we were too damn busy feeding, serving, praying with and loving those who were in need. We didn't have the time to care. And it taught me a very important lesson.

THEREFORE, MY SUGGESTION to my Anglo-Catholic brethren in the US, next time you think about +Gene Robinson or Women Bishops or whatever it is that makes you mad, get up and do something (this applies to my progressive brethren, too). Polish the pews. Straighten the Prayer Books. Visit the lonely. Feed someone who is hungry. Sweep the front walk of the Church. Put your anger and confusion to benefit the Church. Or you know, you could actually do the Anglican thing and pray. Next time you want to complain about the state of whatever, take you and your fellow complainers, go before the Most Blessed Sacrament and pray for whatever/whoever it is that makes you angry. I think the dialogue would get a whole lot more Christlike.

"They limped about the altar that they had made (1 Ki 18:26)."

AND YET, THERE stands the Eucharist. The Eucharist stands diametrically opposed to that kind of Deist thinking. Instead of a far-away god who seldom involves itself in the actions of the world, we have the Christ of the Eucharist who steps into the day-to-day life of the world. There is no cutting or shouting or even over-the-top sacrifices, there only is Christ giving of Himself completely to all who would partake. The Eucharist just reveals that God has and always will love, care and sustain his creation. As it is written, in Him we move and have our being. How can we move in Him if He is but a careless, feckless thug hell bent on receiving your lifeblood like a thirsty Aztec deity?

NO. THE GOD of the Eucharist (that is, the true God) has a vested interest in you and your life. He is not just the solution to some unsolvable problem but is the very source of life from which you take breath. This God of the Eucharist doesn't even stand ready to help, but is actively working for the good in the world. Though it may feel like he seldom involves Himself, the God of the Eucharist stands and gives of Himself -- through very simple day-to-day things of bread and wine -- at every Altar throughout the Earth. Unlike the hybrid god of the Christian Deist, this God of the Eucharist desireth not sacrifice, nor delightest in burnt offerings. No, the over-the-top sacrifices that this God desires are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart.

THEREFORE, LET US return to that Chapel speaker at my Alma Mater, you remember, the one who spent a year as a homeless person and the fawning of the student body. I wonder how the God of the Eucharist would look at this? The action itself, of course, is very laudable and the goal very courageous. But, is it necessary? Would the God of the Eucharist require this kind of over-the-top sacrifice? Do we, as Christians who follow the God of the Eucharist need to do things like this? In short, no. As the Psalmist puts it, sacrifice . . . you have not desired. And elsewhere: to obey is better than sacrifice. We, too, must imitate that which we worship.  I think what the God of the Eucharist wants is not over-the-top dramatic workings of grace (even though these do occur), but simple day-to-day offerings of obedience, just like He gives of Himself every day in the Mass.

IF YOU WANT to do something great for Jesus, if you want to change the world, don't do something over the top. Do the simple things and do them with careful obedience. I will even go so far as to say that if you prayed Compline faithfully at stroke of midnight for a year, you would change your life more dramatically than doing something drastic for the same time. To give to all people who ask money from you (even the smallest amount) rather than live as one of "them" for a summer. To go into your closet and pray faithfully than to retreat at once. To carefully mind the words of your spiritual director than to read all the best of Christian thought (that was painful for me to write). To fast on Fridays throughout the year than to fast for three days straight. Am I making sense?

YES, THE BIG things are laudable and you'll get there (believe me, the crucifixion is a big deal). But this is a more perfect way, one that does not lead to frustration or wild gyrations of spiritual discipline.These kinds of little obediences are of the faith that was once delivered to the Saints (especially Therese of Lisieux and Bro. Lawrence). This is what the God the Eucharist does in our day-to-day lives, and we should proceed in the same manner.

THE GOD OF the Deists just wants your blood, sweat and toil but the God of the Eucharist wants you -- all of you. The you that's moody, the you that's joyous, the you that's beset with pain, the you that has felt nothing of faith for years. The you from day-to-day who comes to Him just as you are, in whatever manner you find yourself from day-to-day, and cries out for mercy and for a changed heart. And yes, there is sacrifice in this kind of obedience. But it is the kind of sacrifices that lead to a broken heart and a changed life.

Blessed, praised, hallowed and adored be our Lord Jesus Christ on his throne of glory in heaven,
in the most holy Sacrament of the altar and in the hearts of his faithful people.

(Futurama's Hedonismbot.)

"They limped about the altar that they had made (1 Ki 18:26)."

MANY OF US, however unknowingly, follow the god of the Deists. The concept: God created the world, set it in motion like a watch maker, then stepped back and seldom interferes. When this god does interfere, it is very much in the vain of Deus et Machina. To get this god to interfere takes quite a bit of coaxing and sacrifice. Then, this god steps down and sets all in right. It vanquishes the enemy (whether that be illnesses or another army) and retreats back to its holy slumber, only to wake next time the perfectly-ordered world needs a little kick.

WE KNOW THIS god quite well. This is the god who we entreat and beg day after day in asking for a miracle. This god requires fasts and the emotional equivalent the cutting oneself in order to heal the one you love. Often, when Christians entreat this god, they find their prayers frustratingly unanswered. Back when I traveled in Pentecostal circles, they referred to this as "the heavens becoming like brass", where your prayers seemingly just bounce off the ceiling and -- splat! -- land right on your face. It demands some kind of over-the-top sacrifice in order for it get off of its celestial couch. It is almost like this god craves your sacrifice like an Aztec god the human sacrifices.

I AM REMINDED of someone who once spoke at my Alma Mater's Chapel service. It was a gentleman who decided to spend a year as a homeless person and see what it was like. Now, for all I know, he might have done this out of obedience and with his heart in the right place. Who am I to say? What shocked me was the fawning of the student body. "Man" they might say, "that was deep! Can you believe that! I can't wait to do something like that for Jesus!" Some where even planning (or daydreaming) about over-the-top sacrifices to make for "Jesus." There is a great temptation to think that God requires something great. There again is that Deist god requiring sacrifice, growing fat from his gorging from your over-the-top actions.

"THEY THAT MAKE them are like unto them" says the Psalmist (115) in reference to those who make idols. In much the same way the Christians are duped into following the Deist god, so too do their lives change to please this ever-unpleased-and-lazy-diety. They require titillating stories or almost-pornographic images of the third world to be moved to action. They ignore the poor on their own street while going to the urban poor to minister (of this I am most guilty). They might go to hell and back for Fair-Trade Coffee, but will be the first to leave a terrible tip at a restaurant.

I HOPE THIS makes sense: because the god they follow is separate from the day-to-day workings of their life, they do not see (or want to see) the workings of God happening in their day-to-day life. Their god only works in the extraordinary; therefore, they can only work in the extraordinary (like the things listed above). They are just like the idol that they have made.

AND YET, THERE is the Eucharist . . . (more to come, I promise!)