A Christly Intimacy
The Body of Christ is a mystery on par with the Holy Trinity or any of the other great, sacred truths of our faith whose whole knowledge is beyond us. We encounter the Body of Christ in many ways and our liturgies regularly remind us that we, the Church, are the mystical body of Christ. As St Augustine of Hippo reminded his congregation about the Eucharist, “Be what you see, receive what you are.”[1]
Today, on the Sunday of the Passion, we encounter the Body of Christ in a host of different ways. We heard Luke’s telling of the Passion this morning, leaving us with the disciples and women of Jerusalem, standing and watching the body of our Lord hanging upon the cross. We shared communion, the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ made present in bread and wine, to feed and restore the faithful. We heard, just moments ago, Mary’s song to her cousin Elizabeth, prophesying what God is doing through the child growing in her womb. And, a few moments from now, we will offer our evening prayers and be blessed by God, again present with us, this time in the most holy sacrament of the altar.
God has promised to humanity many times that we will never be left alone. Jesus came as Emmanuel, “God with us”. And, when Jesus ascended to heaven, we were given the Holy Spirit, an advocate to dwell with us until Jesus’ return. In spite of God’s promises and faithfulness, we, so often, fail to recognize God’s presence in our midst. When Jesus arrives in Jerusalem and goes to the temple, he finds it overrun with people who have made God’s worship an opportunity for profiteering and exploitation. After driving them out and healing many sick people besides, the chief priests and scribes make it known that he is not welcome there.
We see this sort of reaction persist today, in churches across the world. It seems that some people can find a little too much godliness, even in God’s own house, and want to distance themselves from God’s uncomfortable presence, lest “our sinful bodies be made clean by his body and our souls washed through his most precious blood.”
Our participation in the Body of Christ, the nearness that we are offered to it, is not an invitation that God extends lightly. It is freely given, to be sure, and it is for our benefit, but it is not an invitation extended to all of creation. Humanity’s welcome to consume and become the Body of Christ is significant. The Liturgy of St James, an ancient liturgy of our church, includes a eucharistic hymn that reminds us of this. It describes even the six-winged seraphim and many-eyed cherubim, who live to sing praises around God’s throne, veiling their faces as Christ approaches the moment of sacrifice. He will give himself to become heavenly food for his faithful people and this act is one that even the highest of angels are not invited to know.
This kind of intimacy with the Body of Christ can be discomfiting. It is a closeness that many of us do not share with even ourselves, let alone anyone else in the world. Christ goes to the darkest of places, the depths of despair and loss to find those in need of the grace and mercy pouring from his wounded side. To give ourselves entirely to another for their sake, not for any gain of our own is a daunting prospect. But it is in precisely this sort of self-sacrifice, unintelligible to a world that makes marketplaces out of temples and temples out of marketplaces, that God’s glory is shown most clearly. We are called again and again by God to draw near, to become what we see and to receive what we are: The Body of Christ.
This week, when you hear the invitation to draw near to the Body of Christ, to follow Jesus into the dark places and the difficult conversations, follow with courage and faith and thanksgiving. In the Body of Christ, we have been given a gift like no other in God’s creation. With it and as it, even the darkest depths will open to Easter morning and eternal life.
[1] Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 272 on the Eucharist.
