(or: On Being (Lutheran) Human)
Since moving to Australia, and even before
that, I’ve worshipped in many different kinds of communities. Here I seem to
have found a home among the Anglicans – not in the least because the first time
I attended the priest said, “All are very welcome to the communion rail, of
course, if that is your custom.” After many months of worshipping places where
I was not welcome at the rail, I cannot describe to you the relief and warmth
of that welcome. Attending other places where the rules forbid it, I comforted myself
with the knowledge that it was the Lord’s table, not ours, and that the gifts
there were still for me, even if I was not allowed to come forward to receive
them in that place. With the simple words in that Anglican church “All are very
welcome…” I knew the power of having another human speak those words, and offer
me the invitation. It was a chance to run into the arms of home.
I really enjoy this church, and its
community. But I realized today, Reformation Sunday (the 499th
anniversary!), that I’m unlikely to ever be an Anglican. They seem to be missing
a couple concepts I find essential; gifts explained in confirmation (courtesy
of Pastor Paul Matchan), which I grow to understand better every day.
First, that we are at once sinner and
saint. Not only that it is possible to
be both simultaneously, but, I’m starting to see, it is impossible not to. Our
humanity is a gift. Our struggles, our broken bits, our wounds, our strengths,
our love, our desires, our failings. That holiness and sainthood isn’t
something to strive after. It is simply part of our being. Something God sees,
even when we don’t. Louise Penny is a
Canadian mystery author I’ve been reading (and recommend). One of her
characters is referred to as the asshole saint – a doctor gifted at healing,
particularly with children who have Down’s Syndrome, who is simultaneously so
full of ego, pride, and hubris that he is rude and dismissive of everyone else.
In most of us, perhaps, the dichotomy is not so striking. But it is present.
Second, the other thing the Anglicans are missing
is “for you” in the words used for distributing communion. The body of Christ, given for you. The blood
of Christ, shed for you. These words are nourishment for each particular being,
each of us asshole saints. And here is the grace, “for you” is for feeding all
the parts of us, not feeding the saint and withering the asshole. It is to make
us more of who we are, in our busted up, broken glory. And there is the gift
and the grace. To be seen, and loved, and nourished as an asshole and a saint.
And that we can speak those words, “for you” to each other at the rail, or the
campfire or anywhere else we are gathered. The human voice and human hands
giving the gift of Jesus, for you. Another welcome home.
I figure I’ll just remain a Lutheran asshole
saint who hangs out with the Anglicans.
(If you’re interested in a bit more on “for you” check out David Lose’s blog.)
(If you’re interested in a bit more on “for you” check out David Lose’s blog.)
