They Worshiped, but They Doubted...
 
            The feast of the Ascension marks a moment that must have been terrifying for the apostles.  Jesus, never one to shy away from paradoxical, punchy sayings and teachings, leaves them with this:  “Behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”  Then He leaves. 
            Now what?
            From the Gospel accounts, it’s most likely that the Ascension took place just a few days after the resurrection.  How confusing these days must have been! After their shared Passover meal, he is arrested, crucified, and buried.  But only days later, he is seen first by the women, then by the apostles, then by many others.  And then, this: declaring that he is with them always, he departs, not to be seen in his earthly form again.
            And here we are, very nearly 2000 years later, believing that he is with us, to the end of the age (forever, in human terms...).  This feast of Jesus’s departure from his earthly life and of his remaining with us forever calls us to our present-day experience:  We are united with Jesus yet separated from the sacraments for a time.  The longer our separation lasts, the more urgent it feels that we resume our worship and our celebration of the sacraments, especially the Eucharist.
            As one who has been involved with the Liturgy for the entire time since the Second Vatican Council, I can argue both sides of this experience:  I can rhapsodize about how we need the sacraments as physical experiences of God’s presence in Christ.  And I can make an excellent case for the abiding presence of Christ at all times, whether we are able to celebrate the sacraments or not.
            Jesus himself can be described as a sacrament: he is an “outward sign” of God’s love and presence and care.  God was already with us, but it is God’s will that his Word be incarnate in the person of Jesus. So, it is evident that God thinks we need Jesus, and that we need sacraments — outward, physical signs of the presence of Christ, who unites humanity and divinity in one person who is truly God and truly human, not 50-50, but 100-100.  Through the experience of Jesus in our world, we are assured that God not only loves us, but profoundly and completely understands our every joy, sorrow, pain, and longing. 
            As we miss the sacraments, we can imagine that Christ also misses us.  Yet we are not separated from God, even as we forego gathering for worship in order to protect the vulnerable among us.  We sacrifice for the good and well-being of others.  In doing so, we literally follow Jesus, who sacrificed his life for the good and well-being of each one of us.  How is this not joining ourselves to Christ?  How is this not Communion?
            Soon, we will gather, with the greatest care for each other’s safety and well-being, and we will once again be in a position to share in the experience of the Eucharist.  May we re-gather with a new sense of Christ’s presence in our lives, and with gratitude for the gift of Jesus and the sacraments, for he is with us even to the end of the age.


The Coming Re-gathering
 
            We are approaching the day when we will be able to gather in our church to celebrate the Mass.  As I write this (Wednesday morning), there is not yet a firm date for this, but by the time you read it, I think there will be.  I know when I think it will be, and whenever it actually happens, it’s not far off.
            And so we will be two full months (more or less) without physically celebrating the Eucharist.  It seems that the live-stream Mass has been helpful in keeping people connected with our parish and giving a clear focus to the Lord’s Day — a day set aside to honor and thank God for all that God has given us.  A day is hardly enough, but it is what God asks of us, and it is what we know in our hearts that we must do.
            We know some of the things that will be a part of our re-gathering:  we will all wear masks as we arrive and throughout the Mass.  We will not use hymnals or collection baskets.  We will sit at least six feet apart, unless we are with someone we also live with.  We will not receive Communion from the cup, but we will have the option to receive on the tongue.  We will limit the capacity of our church to about 1/3 of its maximum.  For us at St. Peter, that’s about 115 people.  We will be required to enforce this limitation.  So, the 116th person will be turned away (ugh!).  If it turns out that we need to celebrate more Masses, or open a second room with the live-stream Mass  shown there and Communion provided by EM’s, we will do it.
            It’s going to be different, and unfamiliar, and in some ways uncomfortable.  But as Catholic Christians, we profess our respect for every human person.  Wearing a mask to protect the others, maintaining separation, being patient with a Communion line that will take longer than before, and accepting that our church capacity is necessarily limited for the time being: all these are signs of our respect for the life of the others who gather with us.
            Is this all going overboard?  What if it is?  Can we over-respect the life of our neighbor, if we believe in the Gospel?  The debate over the best way to handle infectious diseases, get people back to work, rebuild our economy, and defeat this virus is worthy and necessary.  But here, as we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, as we encounter Christ, present in Word, Sacrament, and in each other assembled as the Body of Christ, there is only one concern:  to welcome, respect, and protect every person who comes to meet Christ in this place.
            May our re-gathering be joyful, prayerful, and marked by our care for one another.  It will be good to see you!