Narrative Eucharist

An introduction to the Sunday liturgy

Read these sections on Holy Trinity’s website:

Weekly communion

Sign of the cross

Silence

Processions

Mary

Icons

Incense

Body postures

Colors for the church year

Dress for worship leaders: Robes

Baptism symbols

I. GATHERING

Philosopher Richard Kearney writes that though our culture is often thought of as materialist, our virtual lives prove otherwise. We are becoming immaterialist: in other words, vicarious and often voyeuristic. We obsess about the body. But often in disembodied ways.

To be human is to experience the senses. It is the power, as Shakespeare said, “to feel what wretches feel.” Or as Kearney adds, what artists, cooks, musicians and lovers feel.

We come to worship bringing our bodies. After all, creation is good. Jesus is God in the flesh, Christians claim. So that we can be fully present—without distraction— to our bodies and community, we power down, we put away our devices for this hour. By entering sacred space and time, we hope that we might see of all of life with this lens.

Liturgy uses ancient gestures and practices. It is multi-sensory. The sights and sounds … the taste of bread and wine … are easy to name. Think of touch. Our bodies are touched in various rituals: hands laid on our heads, a cross marked on our forehead, oil anointing us when sick, the peace shared with a handshake, embrace or kiss.

But what about smell? The forgotten sense in many churches. Smell, we are told, triggers personal, unique memories in our lives.

In most religions—including Judaism and Christianity—incense is a doorway to the holy. The incense in the procession gets our attention. The sweet smell, inviting us to be open. The rising smoke, like prayers offered up. Incense honoring holy people and holy things. If we value all five senses, then we will let the nose have its time as well!

Throughout the service notice the bodily postures and gestures that make up the liturgy. A procession is movement, like a parade. Like the journey of baptism from death to life.

We stand to pray and sing. Sit to listen. Bow to honor. Kneel to express penitence and our need for God.

Make the sign of the cross to remember our baptism. Martin Luther urged us to do when we wake up in the morning. The sign of the cross is the primary body prayer of Christians. Let’s practice. Head – chest – left – right.

Learn, practice, experiment. But always remember: if you are new to some of these practices or even uncomfortable, participate as you feel choose. They are optional. We welcome crossers and non-crossers, after all!

But here’s a way to add some fun! As you pass the baptismal font, dip your hands in the water and make the cross. I’d love this to be a church to a church of dippers. Not skinny dippers. Not necessarily intinction dippers. But a community that treasures baptism. And water. And grace. So much that as we walk by the water, we can’t help but touch it. Teach our children to reach in for it. Eagerly receive the droplets on our skin during baptismal sprinkling.

When are other times do this sign of the cross, you may be wondering. At a Trinitarian invocation or blessing. When the pastor makes a large cross over the community. Before and/or after you receive communion. Those are some good starting places.

May our experience of the liturgy open our skin and our senses. And indeed, our hearts. To sense God’s presence in this place. And in all that it means to be human.

II. LITURGY OF THE WORD

There are a lot of words in worship. When you think of the Word of God, you may first think of the Bible. But for Lutherans, the Word of God is first Jesus Christ. Word made flesh. When the scriptures are proclaimed in community—in our midst—they become for us word of God, word of life. Wisdom to live by. Challenge and conviction. And certainly good news, grace, gospel.

We stand when the gospel is read. As if Christ himself if present as the Word of God. We welcome the gospel with alleluias. It is the climax of the liturgy of the word. The book of gospels is carried into our midst, even as God comes among us in Christ.

As the gospel is announced, some use another body practice to mark that high moment. A small cross made on the forehead, lips and heart. An acted-out prayer. Christ be in my thinking, my speaking, my loving. May this Word of God—may Christ himself be made know to us in this time and place. Let’s try it….

After the sermon we sit in silence for a minute or so. In music, the rests are as important as the notes. Same here. A meditation bell from the Buddhist tradition invites us to be still. To chill. To dwell in the present moment. Without silence, life is wall to wall sound. So we stop. We breathe. To let things settle.  And pray that in our daily lives—amid stress and fear—we will also remember to breathe deeply. Breathe in the deep peace that only God can give.

Liturgy connects with daily life in the sermon. In the intercessions for the church, those in need, creation, the world and its leaders.

Now it may seem like a seven-inning stretch. Or a chance to say hello. But the next ritual moment is ancient as well. The greeting of peace. Greet one another with a holy kiss, we read in Romans. Or in Matthew, if you are getting ready to offer your gift and estranged from someone, go be reconciled first.

We greet one another with a “peace be with you.” A handshake, an embrace, a kiss. But we practice what we pray we will live in the world. First, finding peace within. Then being a peacemaker in all we do.

Then the offering. What comes to mind? Money? It’s so much more than that.

The bread and wine are carried forward by representatives of the community. It’d be easier to have them up on the altar. But in this ritual we offer ourselves with the bread and wine. From the earth. From what human hands have made. Someone in the community has baked the bread, for example. With the bread and wine we offer our lives and work. Our gifts and talents. Our passions. Our hopes and dreams. We ask that God would use all of them—all of us—to be a blessing to the world.

And money. We offer that, too. We practice generosity here that it may carry over when we leave. Some of us place money in the basket. Some of us give online. Some write checks or use the small the offering envelopes in the pew. These are for the mission of the church and the ministry of the congregation.. They are for the poor and organizations that care for refugees, for those that are marginalized, homeless and hungry. For all the ways you practice generosity—through word and deed—we are thankful.

III. THE LITURGY OF THE MEAL

We now come to the high point of the liturgy: the Great Thanksgiving. We give thanks for God’s faithfulness. We remember Christ’s death and resurrection. We bless God for the gifts of bread and wine. This part of the liturgy has roots in Jewish meal blessings. We make connections with the table prayers we say at home.

The presiding minister gives thanks on our behalf. She or he wears the chasuble, an ancient garment in the color of the day or season. Its fullness reminds of God’s loving embrace of us and all creation. Others worship leaders and choir members are wearing albs, suggesting the white robe of baptism.

The presiding minister prays with outstretched arms, open hands. An ancient prayer posture, A gesture of vulnerability, openness, trust. The Roman Catacombs show Christians in the second and third century with this posture. At the Lord’s Prayer the entire community is invited to use this gesture, if you are comfortable. See what is feels like it. Try it for a moment. See how it feels different than folded hands or closed eyes. Of course, you will have to put your bulletin down. But that’s a good reminder in itself. The words and music in the folder are a guide to help when needed. As much as possible, we try to get our eyes out of the book, off the paper. So that our bodies—and all five senses—will be fully present to what is occurring in the liturgy.

A few words about receiving communion. When we receive the bread we use place our hands one on top of the other. Some of us were taught we are making a throne for Christ. We come open to receive. The gesture pictures what Martin Luther supposedly said when he was dying, “we are all beggars.” Rather than reaching for the bread, this posture teaches us the gift of receiving. Children and adults who are not communing, and would like a blessing, are asked to place your hands over your chest, so that it is clear that would like a blessing. Parents, we ask that you would help teach your young kids this posture if they do not know it.

Even if unfamiliar to you, it would be good to consider using the common cup as it allows for both actions of eating and drinking. If you use the common cup, remember to either the take the cup in your holds or take hold of the bottom of the chalice and help guide it to your mouth. 

It can be a lot to keep track of, if you’re new to these practices. But eventually, let yourself be drawn into the holy moment. In this meal we celebrate Christ coming among us. With gifts of grace, hope, forgiveness, renewal. Some of you may wonder your response when the minister says “the body of Christ” or “the blood of Christ.” Certainly, you may be thinking “thank you very much.” Or “I need to talk to you about after the service.” Or: “hey, how’s it going.” Usually the best response is the shortest. And it has a long tradition it: “Amen.” Or for some, “thanks be to God.”

And don’t forget: as you hear the words “the body of Christ,” it not only means “for you.” You are also the “body of Christ” for the world.

IV. SENDING

Lutherans believe Christ is truly present in the bread and wine. A mystery beyond words.

But we dare not forget that we get changed in the eucharist. Transformed to be the body of Christ in the world.

There is a lot of bowing in the liturgy. Bowing toward the cross as the sign of death and resurrection. Bowing toward the table—the altar—as a sign of Christ’s presence in the eucharist. Bowing toward one another to remind us that we are indeed the people of God. Reminding us that our bodies are good and holy, temples of God’s Spirit.

Bowing is central to Asian cultures. But bowing is found in nearly every religion. I found a book called “The Sacred Art of Bowing.” There is bowing in Tai Chi and yoga. This bodily posture teaches us to honor something or someone beyond ourselves. It trains us, if you will, to assume a posture of humility in daily life.

What if we bowed more to one another? What if we bowed toward our food before we eat it? Toward a homeless person on the street? Toward an enemy, a lover, a friend?

You might bow as the presider bows toward you. It might make you smile at times. You may remember the bowing lady in the Sound of Music and chuckle. But let’s stand and try it. We’ll lead with our bodies. And hope our hearts will follow.

This part of the liturgy is called the sending. We go to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world. To live our baptism. To work for justice and peace. To live with reverence for all of life. To become more at home in our bodies and in the earth.

Holy Trinity proclaims that all are welcome here: whoever you are, whoever you love and marry, whatever the color of your skin, however you feel about church and all these bodily gestures we’ve been practicing. But as we leave we pray we will assume a posture of hospitality toward all we meet.

So: the dismissal is as important as anything in the liturgy. A few final words reminding us of our call and mission. Go in peace. Remember the poor. Serve the Lord. Christ is with you. And with our whole being we cry out: Thanks be to God!