Sacramental Cinematography

In 2004 on the Tuesday night preceding Ash Wednesday and the start of the Lenten season, Mel Gibson released his much anticipated "The Passion of the Christ" that was both hailed and criticized. There are some theological difficulties with the movie. I have heard it said, for instance, that the Christ shed so much blood in this movie that he died three times over. While the amount of blood shed was meaningful to an understanding that it was by His blood that we are saved, the notion that no human being could have lived through that blood loss and made it to the cross gave the impression that Christ was some sort of super human. We might like to think this at times, but let us remember that the truth of the incarnation is just this fact - that Christ became a man like you and like me. There was nothing supernatural about the beating he received, save the faith he had to keep him on that cross. Physically speaking, he died as any other man in his condition would have died under the same set of circumstances. We have to remember this because his true humanity is crucial to our salvation.

Having said that, I think that Gibson's sacramental theology is "spot on," as the English are fond of saying. If you remember, during the crucifixion scene, the picture cut back and forth between the events on Golgotha and the scene the night before in the upper room when Jesus was breaking bread with his disciples. As Jesus' hands were nailed to the cross, the scene cut to Jesus taking the bread. As the cross was raised up, the scene cut to Jesus raising the bread. As the blood dripped from his hands, the scene cut to show the wine. "This is my body," Jesus said, "given for you."

This scene brilliantly showed the beautiful truth that the Fathers wrote about, namely that the actions of Jesus in the upper room cannot be understood apart from his actions on Golgotha. In other words, Jesus is doing the same thing on Friday that he did on Thursday night. And this understanding further undergirds the understanding that Christ is somehow truly and mystically present in our celebration of the Eucharist. Not that he is crucified again, somehow transported to each of our churches, but rather that we are transported back 2000 years to that rock in the shape of a skull. That seeing the bread raised and the cup of wine, we are seeing our savior, "the Lamb standing as though slain," as John puts it. And that by partaking of the bread and wine, we are made one with him, one with his death, and one with his life.

An Answer Remembered

As Christians, we are part of a long tradition of people who are intent on remembering their story, of remembering the points in our history where God has decisively and definitely acted on our behalf. This rich tradition, of course, began with the ancient Israelites who rehearsed their salvation story - the story where the Angel of Death "passed over" the Jewish firstborns killing the Egyptian firstborns, which ultimately led to their exodus from slavery - once a year at the Feast of the Passover. This was actually a law that the Lord God required of them, in order that they not forget the wonderful acts of their God.

Christians continue this tradition with the celebration of the Eucharist, which I would argue, is the central act of the church. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we remember the sacrifice of Christ - his broken body and his shed blood. We remember the story and we make it present once again for us. Christ also prescribed such an action when he proclaimed to his disciples: "Do this in remembrance of me."

One of the reasons that God has demanded such constant acts of remembrance is because we are forgetful people. We need to remember because it is so easy for us to forget - when we feel that God has not answered our prayers or that he has not been present to us for awhile, we quickly jump to the conclusion that he has never been there.

I think, therefore, that it is entirely helpful, and entirely biblical for that matter, to work at remembering the times in your life when God has clearly answered prayer. Such an act can increase your faith and inspire you to more prayer, though you may feel that no one is listening. In light of that, I would like to rehearse for you one of the times in my life when God most clearly and most lovingly answered my prayer.

March of 2006, Julie and I were in Kentucky, unsure of our next steps. I had been accepted to Marquette for doctoral work, but we had no provisions for tuition money. My last chance was the John Wesley Fellowship, but for various reasons, that looked very doubtful. I was scheduled to fly to Houston for an interview one Friday. At the same time, Julie was driving to Milwaukee to interview for a position. She left on Thursday morning and I had the evening to myself. With so much at stake, I decided that I had a lot of praying to do.

Around 9:00 in the evening, I headed to Asbury Seminary, about a mile from our house. I wanted to pray in a special place, which for me was Asbury's chapel, Estes Chapel. At 9:00 in the evening, I figured the place would be deserted and I would be alone with the Lord and my prayers. To my dismay however, as I approached Estes, I saw that all lights were blazing and there was some extremely loud, and rather poor, organ music emanating from the place. Disappointed and dejected, I considered turning around and heading home. Instead, I found a little prayer chapel just to the side of Estes, which I always knew was there, but in which I had never spent much time.

With the lights off, I kneeled at the small altar and began praying about all of the things that were heavy on my heart. I prayed for my wife and for her interview, for her calling in ministry and for our marriage. I prayed for my interview and my calling and for the challenges that a PhD program entailed. Finally I began to pray for the means to pay for the tuition. Knowing that the John Wesley Fellowship was unlikely, I simply began praying that the Lord's will be done. It became a refrain in my prayer: "Lord that you would provide the means to pay for this: your will be done." I remember simply repeating that phrase again and again. At one point in the prayer I looked up and caught my breath at the words engraved above the altar where I knelt:

"Thy will be done."

As most of you know, Julie got the job she interviewed for and I was fortunate enough to receive the John Wesley Fellowship, which has helped us so much this year. We often wonder how we could have done this without the Fellowship. However, I do not think that earning the Fellowship was God's answer to my prayer that night in March 2006. I believe that it was rather his words to me: "Thy will be done." Seeing those words were like God's arms around me, assuring me that he was with me in this walk. That he would not leave me. And though there have been times this year when I have forgotten - more times than I care to relate - I know that this truth remains. God is with me. God is with us.

We simply need to remember.

The Crimson Stain

Today we celebrated the Eucharist. I love how our church does communion. After reading through the Communion Liturgy, the ushers dismiss the pews one at a time to the front of the church where we each stand or kneel before the altar. The Pastor and another helper serve each person in succession reciting those beautiful words: "The body of Christ given for you; the blood of Christ shed for you." The helper, who always carries the chalice, holds a white cloth under the cup in order to catch any drops of wine coming off the morsel that the communing one has dipped into the cup. This is done either for practical purposes (so that no wine gets on the carpet of the church) or for theological purposes (so that the precious blood of Christ is not spilled on the ground). Personally, I hope it is for the latter. After the congregation has communed, the Pastor slowly and deliberately covers the remaining elements with the white cloth.

Today, as I sat in the pew, I noticed the white cloth covering the cup. It was stained with several drops of crimson wine. It occurred to me that the scene was a perfect reminder of the sacrifice that was made for my salvation and for the salvation of all those sitting around me. For it is the blood of Christ, shed on the cross, remembered and recalled anew this day that gives us life. That crimson stained cloth was beautiful - he became crimson that my sins could become white.

"Make them be for us the body and blood that we might be for the world the body of Christ redeemed by his blood." -United Methodist Communion Liturgy

"This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood." -Luke 22:20

"The punishment that brought us peace fell upon him, for by his stripes we are healed." -Isaiah 53:5

Maundy Thursday

Today is the Feast of Maundy Thursday, also called Holy Thursday, which commemorates the night in which Jesus instituted the Eucharist with his disciples. It was in the midst of their celebration of the salvific moment in Israel's history where the blood of the lamb above their doorways allowed the Angel of Death to pass over them, the final plague which ultimately led to their Exodus. In the midst of the celebration, Jesus stood up and performed that mysterious and holy action:

"This is my body, given for you."

"This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you."

Blood is salvific in the course of Israel's history. It is shed each time God makes a covenant with his people. It is the means by which the lamb passed over. And in less than 24 hours after that last supper, Jesus' blood would be shed, establishing a new covenant with his people. A covenant which is written on their hearts. A covenant which abolishes sin and death once and for all. And the church has been eating his body and drinking his blood ever since; it is the oldest and most cherished sacrament of the church.

The account of the institution of the Eucharist occurs in three of the four Gospels. But the interesting thing is that the term by which we remember this night comes not from any of these Gospels, but from John: "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." The Latin phrase for new command is "mandatum novum" the origin of Maundy.

In place of the Eucharist in John (which there is discussed in ch 6), Jesus dons a towel and washes the feet of his disciples. This is the embodiment of his new command, to love one another. Jesus loved us so much to the point that he died for us. The reality is that in everyday life, we will not get the chance to love our friends this much. But here Jesus shows the way to love one another - by serving one another. By caring more for others than ourselves.

On this Maundy Thursday, let us remember the Eucharist which commemorates the new covenant by which we are brought into communion with God, and let us remember the new command that Christ gave us, to love others as He loved us. May he give us the strength and the courage to do so.