On Redefining Sacraments…

Tags

coffee, Coffee Hour, gift, God, grace, sacrament, sign, spiritual

Photo credit: https://jacklondonoakland.org/new-events/virtual-coffee-hour-september-2020

This past Sunday was a day of celebration at Hickory Neck.  The bishop confirmed, received, and reaffirmed 16 parishioners, gave out blessings at our Drive-Thru Coffee Hour, and even celebrated Eucharist in our Historic Chapel.  It was a day of delight and joy and brought so many people together – both online and in person. 

But one of the things we tried for the first time since the pandemic was a “mini Coffee Hour”  We could not get past the idea of a celebration like this without a cake, so we safely served up cake and put coffee in safe, disposable containers, and we ate outside in a way that we have not done in ages.  It was a small thing in a lot of ways – something we have done thousands of times before the pandemic.  But it was anything but small.  As the organizer teared up talking about having Coffee Hour that day, I knew there was something much deeper happening.

Some people have joked that Coffee Hour is the eighth sacrament of the Episcopal Church.  I always scoffed at that idea, thinking it was much too disrespectful of the sacraments.  But in having Coffee Hour taken away during the pandemic and experiencing it again for the first time in 19 months, I now realize the truth hidden in those forced laughs about Coffee Hour’s sacramental status.  We are told in the Catechism that a sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as a sure and certain means by which we receive that grace.  Now I am not arguing that Jesus gives us coffee, but the cup of coffee one receives at Coffee Hour may in fact be that outward and visible sign of the grace of Coffee Hour – where sacred hospitality is offered, intimate Christ-like friendships are nurtured, and forgiveness, pastoral care, and sharing in mutual joy happens. 

I would not wish this pandemic on anyone.  But I am grateful for the fasting that it created which enabled me to see the fullness of holiness that happens in church:  in the pews, at the altar rail, and yes, at the coffee pot.  My hope is that we as a church figure out ways to offer those unauthorized sacraments in new and fresh ways as we continue to recover from this pandemic and live into community in restricted ways.  I wonder what ways we will be overwhelmed by God’s grace in these in-between times.

On Holy Week, Distance, and Hope…

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church, community, Coronavirus, creativity, different, digital, grace, grief, Holy Spirit, Holy Week, hope, intimate, physical, sacrament, technology, tradition

Photo credit:  https://www.brownsvilleherald.com/news/business/the-latest-holy-week-ceremonies-closed-to-public-over-virus/image_b2f632ed-6243-5410-accd-34ccf4865671.html

I remember the first time I was a Rector and planning Holy Week.  I was debating about whether to use the reserve sacrament on Good Friday or not.  I spoke to a priest colleague, and he shared the philosophy of the Rector under which he was serving:  on Good Friday, not even the consolation of the Holy Meal is available to us.

When our staff at Hickory Neck first started talking about Holy Week, we were faced with a stark reality:  there was no way for us to celebrate Holy Week the way we traditionally do.  Sure, we could use technology, and sure, we could try to do parts of what we normally do, but so much of Holy Week is physical and intimate – from waving palms, to washing feet, to kissing crosses, to huddling together around a fire, to having water sprinkled around, to gathering close in the dark, to finally gathering in a huge celebration with large crowds, Easter egg hunts, pictures with friends, and brass instruments.  There just is not a way to create that same feel digitally.  And so, Holy Week would need to be different.

For those of you who know me, you know Holy Week is superlatively special to me – it is my favorite week of the year.  So, for a moment, I grieved that loss, adding it to the long list of things I am grieving during this pandemic.  But then I took a deep breath, made room for Holy Spirit as I relaxed my grip on what I falsely imagined was under my control, and let the creativity flow.  Before I knew it, we were trying evensong for Maundy Thursday – a service we experienced daily on a recent pilgrimage in England.  We were creating a simple, powerful Good Friday liturgy.  And, I was trying for the first time a liturgy I had barely noticed in the Prayer Book – a Holy Saturday liturgy.

Holy Week and Easter will not be the same this year.  But, in all honesty, nothing is the same in this season of life.  If our lives are so distinctly different these days, it makes sense that our liturgies would be different too, as liturgies reflect the life of the people.  Somehow, creating this alternative Holy Week has felt like the Church settling in alongside the community and walking in step with them (from a safe distance, of course!).  Somehow, recognizing grief, discomfort, and sadness has made room for creativity, hope, and grace.  Somehow, experiencing a daily life much more in line with the journey of Holy Week is making Holy Week viscerally palpable, and ultimately healing, life-giving, and strengthening.  We still have a long way to go with this virus and its impact, but I am especially grateful for the gift of Holy Week this year.