If you are looking or listening or watching for God in church, you may well find God in the words, the liturgy, the order of service, or the music. But, the presence of God often becomes palpable in worship in the moment of silence after the choir anthem or a wonderful hymn, with the last note hanging in the air. The presence of God is in the silent spaces in the prayers of thanksgiving and intercession, after words of thanks or a plea of concern are uttered. The presence of God is in the pauses between transitions in a sermon when everyone shifts just slightly and the Holy Spirit whispers an “aha” to someone in the congregation. The presence of God is in the intake of breath before the call to worship, and the exhale just after the benediction before anyone moves.
Ultimately, the answer to where God is in worship is one of mystery. That may not be terribly satisfying until we also understand that the mystery of God’s presence in worship is synonymous with the ultimate mystery of life. This is not mystery in the sense of a whodunit, so much so as it is about something bigger than us, greater than us, beyond us, and yet it is the key to understanding ourselves, this world, and the ultimate purpose of all life. The mystery of God’s presence is perhaps the keenest when Christians gather around the Table of the Lord. To those outside the church it is perhaps the most peculiar moment in a worship service. For many inside, it is the most sacred, though we might be hard pressed to explain why.
Perhaps I am drawn to John Calvin’s theology of communion because I am a middle child. I admire the way that Calvin read the Scriptures, looked at the controversy being played out around the holy sacrament between the Roman Catholic tradition, the emerging Lutheran tradition, and the Anabaptist interpretation and came through with a truly middle way. Calvin wasn’t really seeking a middle way, in terms of a compromise. He was rather seeking an answer to the question, “How is God present in the sacrament? Where does God show up?”
In the Roman Catholic tradition, the technical term is “transubstantiation.” When the priest consecrates the elements, there is a moment in the mass when the bread is transformed into the actual body of Christ. In the Lutheran tradition, the technical term for understanding how God shows up in Communion is consubstantiation. Christ is present in the elements, in a mysterious physical way. However, the elements are not changed entirely in their substance. Somehow, like the understanding of a person who is simultaneously both a grievous sinner and yet fully justified, the elements remain wheat and grape while at the same time becoming Christ’s body and blood.
Both Calvin and his more radical counterpart, Ulrich Zwingli, took issue with any reference to the bodily presence of Christ in the elements. One basis for this argument was the account of the ascension of Christ in Luke and Acts. If Christ ascended to heaven, as we read in the Scriptures and attest in our creeds, then Christ’s body is no longer to be found on the earth — in any form. The human body of Jesus, so essential to the incarnation, is no longer available to people of faith. Nor, would Calvin argue, is it necessary.
Protestants influenced on this subject by Zwingli took this concept quite literally. For Christians in this tradition, today represented mainly by Baptists, this meant that the celebration of the sacrament is a memorial to Christ. This tradition emphasizes the final part of the words of institution, “Do this in remembrance of me.” In partaking of the bread and the cup, Christians are remembering Jesus Christ and the Last Supper. Somewhat like a memorial service for one we love or as a community on Remembrance Day. There is reverence and reflection. There is certainly a richness to this memory like no other and it is vital to the church. But, at its heart, it is a memorial and nothing more.
But Calvin was not satisfied with this interpretation either. Something profound was still missing. Christ is present, not as a memory, but in a real way. The remembering that we do in Communion is unlike any other kind of remembering in human experience. We are not remembering something past. We are remembering something and someone that is still happening and who is still here, not gone from us at all. The sanctuary is thick with the real presence of Christ when the sacrament is celebrated. This presence of Christ is palpable but not physical. The physical human senses can perceive this presence, and yet the elements do not change. Bread remains bread. The fruit of the vine remains juice. Nothing changes and yet everything changes. The difference is the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit brokers the presence of Christ. The Spirit is a channel, a bridge, a connector. Through the Holy Spirit, we are brought into a mystical union with Christ. This is the Reformed understanding of the sacrament of Communion. Christ’s presence is real and through the sacrament we are united to Christ in a mysterious yet actual way. So it is, also, with all of our worship. God can be found woven into words and silence, under and through Christian fellowship, inhabiting the praise of God’s people. It would arrogant to believe that we are the ones who start and stop worship. Though we have a starting time for worship and an ending time (a pretty strict one for Presbyterians!), it would be better if we thought of worship as an ongoing activity. We neither begin it nor end it, rather we join in for a while and step out for a while. And when we step out, it is only to renew our quest to find God in the midst of our life, work and play beyond the sanctuary. Indeed, hopefully each time we join into the practice of worship, we will emerge inspired, nourished and better equipped to sense God’s active presence in all areas of our lives.
Study Guide:
1) Try to think of a powerful or memorable experience or moment of worship – a time when you really felt the presence of God or the power of God in your own life. What triggered that experience for you? Was it a particular part of the service (a hymn, a prayer, a Scripture reading, a line from the sermon)? Was it the occasion of worship or the worship space?
2) Fred Craddock, in his book Reflections on My Call to Preach (St. Louis: Chalice Press, 2009) reflects on the mystery of God’s presence in the sanctuary. He reflects on his childhood sense of awe and wonder in the sanctuary. He goes on to say, “Now would be the appropriate time for me to say that as I matured in faith I came to understand that all places are the same, since God is everywhere. But I cannot say that. I know that on one level it is true; God does not need temples and sanctuaries. But I needed and still need places that are “The Places”; places where I can be refreshed by that presence of God. Immature and theologically inadequate? Probably, but “everywhere” seems a way of saying “nowhere.” To this day, the one essential hour of a week is the hour in a place of worship.” Do you agree?
3) John Calvin had a very strong theology of the Holy Spirit, especially in regards to worship. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot understand or interpret the Scriptures. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot experience the “benefits” of Christ’s incarnation, death, or resurrection. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot experience God’s presence in Communion. Given the reputation that Presbyterians have regarding the Holy Spirit (that we don’t like to talk about the Holy Spirit, that we are stayed or frozen in our tradition, that we are head-centred rather than heart-centred, and that we are not terribly “spiritual” people), does this surprise you?
4) What does the “Real Spiritual Presence of Christ” mean for you? How is it different from a memorial? How would you describe it to a neighbour or to a friend who was trying to understand the sacrament of Communion from the perspective of the Reformed tradition?
5) Communion is understood by many in the Reformed tradition as an individual, private, inwardly focused and even solemn ritual. Is this how you approach and experience the sacrament? While there is certainly a place for this understanding, it must not be understood this way exclusively. Communion is also a communal, public, joyful, and shared ritual of the church. God speaks to the community through the bread and wine and infused the community with love, nourishment and strength. What are some ways that this balance can be better displayed and promoted in the way that we celebrate the sacrament of Holy Communion?
