Ash Wednesday
Text: Isaiah 53: 5; 2 Corinthians 5:21
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin,
so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
My mother was raised by her German-born grandmother who followed the family tradition. Every Sunday she took my mother to the Lutheran parish in Philadelphia while her father stayed home and prepared a full-course meal for the family to eat when they returned from church. As a young child my mother watched the adults go forward after the sermon and prayers, kneel at the chancel rail, and receive Holy Communion; the sight that made a lasting impression on her was seeing the men, who were as gruff and stubborn as her father, except thatthey came to church where, when receiving the bread and cup, they wept.
That sight stayed with her for the rest of her life and became a legacy passed on to me…to ponder what it was that made those restrained, emotionally reserved, stern, and some bad-tempered men weep.
It was when I first heard a choir sing Handel’s Messiah:
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
that the answer became real and personal when seeing the bread of Holy Communion raised and the words are heard, “He took break, and when He had broken it…” Bread broken, not just any bread, but that unleavened bread prepared as it had been from the very first Passover… a napkin folded in half and then in quarters for three unleavened cakes to be placed between the folds, and, in the course of the meal, the second one was taken out, lifted up, and broken…
with that being the only sound…
until, in Jesus’ hands, the silence was interrupted with the words,
“This is My Body broken for you.”
The action bringing into sight what the prophet had said and some remembered after Good Friday:
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
Bread broken for the broken by the One Who let Himself be broken on the cross! Why those men wept the tears of joy-filled disbelief that they were receiving the bread of Christ’s life; He was giving them the cleansing gift of His presence!
The gifts: the broken in body and mind and spirit receive with an understanding others may find hard to imagine, as did Samuel Wells, vicar of St. Martin-in-the-Field in London, (1) who went to visit a friend he had not seen in two years. It broke his heart to look at him. He had been an accomplished musician who taught school and challenged at risk students to write poetry. He climbed mountains, painted, baked, and even knitted, and his piercing brown eyes focused as though you were the only person in the world to whom he gave his full attention.
That was until ten years ago when a post-viral fatigue began to rob him of energy and eventually confined him to a room where he struggled to get out a word. During the visit he managed to say, “Maybe we could do some bread and wine. Eucharist.”
Samuel Wells went to the kitchen where all he could find was a crust of bread and vermouth and began the service. “Suddenly,” he said, “every word mattered.” “The Lord be with you.” Who had stayed with him these ten wilderness years?” Then the confession with the vicar holding back the words, “What had he done to deserve this?”
Samuel Wells said, “It got harder. It was time for intercession. He wasn’t helping me. I had to lead it all myself, and again he wanted
to shout, “How long, O Lord, How long will you keep this beloved man in prison?” But he said, Faithful God, you have given friends: never let us be alone. Beckoning God, you have given us story: Make our future bigger than our past. Embracing God, you have given us yourself: suffuse our lives with love beyond our imagining.”
As he raised and broke the bread, he prayed, “Heartbreaking God, in Christ you have had your body broken; make this broken body a blessing to your people.”
When he came to the prayer of the Great thanksgiving, he confessed to discovering that his friend whose life had been broken by an imprisoning illness, could give thanks for a broken God who was with him in his brokenness, and the bread and cup were a taste of the promise of the day when God will make all things new and that day will begin with great banquet. Bread broken for the broken…moving gruff, reserved, stern, and some bad-tempered German men to weep when kneeling and taking the bread, because it was a taste of Christ’s life; He was giving them the cleansing gift of His presence!
Bread broken for the broken…moving Samuel Wells’ paralyzed friend to receive the bread with thanksgiving, because it was a taste of a promised future when he and all creation would be fully restored to wholeness and he would raise his voice in praise. Bread broken for the broken…for you and for me who in faith confess:
Bread of the world, in mercy broken,
Wine of the soul, in mercy shed,
By Whom the words of life were spoken,
And in Whose death our sins are dead.
Look on the heart by sorrow broken,
Look on the tears by sinners shed;
And be Thy feast to us the token,
That by Thy grace our souls are fed. (Reginald Heber NCH#346)
AMEN.
(1) Quoted from Christian Century, “Faith Matters” by Samuel Wells, Jan. 8, 2014
Text: Isaiah 53: 5; 2 Corinthians 5:21
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin,
so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
My mother was raised by her German-born grandmother who followed the family tradition. Every Sunday she took my mother to the Lutheran parish in Philadelphia while her father stayed home and prepared a full-course meal for the family to eat when they returned from church. As a young child my mother watched the adults go forward after the sermon and prayers, kneel at the chancel rail, and receive Holy Communion; the sight that made a lasting impression on her was seeing the men, who were as gruff and stubborn as her father, except thatthey came to church where, when receiving the bread and cup, they wept.
That sight stayed with her for the rest of her life and became a legacy passed on to me…to ponder what it was that made those restrained, emotionally reserved, stern, and some bad-tempered men weep.
It was when I first heard a choir sing Handel’s Messiah:
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
that the answer became real and personal when seeing the bread of Holy Communion raised and the words are heard, “He took break, and when He had broken it…” Bread broken, not just any bread, but that unleavened bread prepared as it had been from the very first Passover… a napkin folded in half and then in quarters for three unleavened cakes to be placed between the folds, and, in the course of the meal, the second one was taken out, lifted up, and broken…
with that being the only sound…
until, in Jesus’ hands, the silence was interrupted with the words,
“This is My Body broken for you.”
The action bringing into sight what the prophet had said and some remembered after Good Friday:
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed.
Bread broken for the broken by the One Who let Himself be broken on the cross! Why those men wept the tears of joy-filled disbelief that they were receiving the bread of Christ’s life; He was giving them the cleansing gift of His presence!
The gifts: the broken in body and mind and spirit receive with an understanding others may find hard to imagine, as did Samuel Wells, vicar of St. Martin-in-the-Field in London, (1) who went to visit a friend he had not seen in two years. It broke his heart to look at him. He had been an accomplished musician who taught school and challenged at risk students to write poetry. He climbed mountains, painted, baked, and even knitted, and his piercing brown eyes focused as though you were the only person in the world to whom he gave his full attention.
That was until ten years ago when a post-viral fatigue began to rob him of energy and eventually confined him to a room where he struggled to get out a word. During the visit he managed to say, “Maybe we could do some bread and wine. Eucharist.”
Samuel Wells went to the kitchen where all he could find was a crust of bread and vermouth and began the service. “Suddenly,” he said, “every word mattered.” “The Lord be with you.” Who had stayed with him these ten wilderness years?” Then the confession with the vicar holding back the words, “What had he done to deserve this?”
Samuel Wells said, “It got harder. It was time for intercession. He wasn’t helping me. I had to lead it all myself, and again he wanted
to shout, “How long, O Lord, How long will you keep this beloved man in prison?” But he said, Faithful God, you have given friends: never let us be alone. Beckoning God, you have given us story: Make our future bigger than our past. Embracing God, you have given us yourself: suffuse our lives with love beyond our imagining.”
As he raised and broke the bread, he prayed, “Heartbreaking God, in Christ you have had your body broken; make this broken body a blessing to your people.”
When he came to the prayer of the Great thanksgiving, he confessed to discovering that his friend whose life had been broken by an imprisoning illness, could give thanks for a broken God who was with him in his brokenness, and the bread and cup were a taste of the promise of the day when God will make all things new and that day will begin with great banquet. Bread broken for the broken…moving gruff, reserved, stern, and some bad-tempered German men to weep when kneeling and taking the bread, because it was a taste of Christ’s life; He was giving them the cleansing gift of His presence!
Bread broken for the broken…moving Samuel Wells’ paralyzed friend to receive the bread with thanksgiving, because it was a taste of a promised future when he and all creation would be fully restored to wholeness and he would raise his voice in praise. Bread broken for the broken…for you and for me who in faith confess:
Bread of the world, in mercy broken,
Wine of the soul, in mercy shed,
By Whom the words of life were spoken,
And in Whose death our sins are dead.
Look on the heart by sorrow broken,
Look on the tears by sinners shed;
And be Thy feast to us the token,
That by Thy grace our souls are fed. (Reginald Heber NCH#346)
AMEN.
(1) Quoted from Christian Century, “Faith Matters” by Samuel Wells, Jan. 8, 2014
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