Spiritual Hunger
Back in late February, the clergy, "in the name of the Church," invited you "to the observance of a holy Lent." Since Ash Wednesday, when we proclaimed those words, much has changed. As one meme declared, "This is the Lentiest Lent I've ever Lented." In many instances beyond our choosing, we have had to give up things that are dear to us-sacrifices small and great—and I wonder whether in them you have discovered new and fuller ways to prepare for the days of the passion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
As one colleague noted in a blog post a few weeks ago, this is the longest period many of us have endured without receiving Holy Communion in a great while—perhaps ever. The last time I received Communion was on March 11, when our Wednesday-night congregation celebrated the Eucharist but, under the bishop's instructions, was prohibited from receiving the wine. Even then, receiving only half of Communion, although sacramentally sufficient, felt like a critical loss to our piety and identity as Anglicans, and I decided to switch to Morning Prayer on Sundays and Evening Prayer on Wednesdays. Only one week later, we were prohibited from worshipping in person altogether, and the Daily Office, which we livestream on Sundays and throughout the week, has sustained us during this Eucharistic fast.
How long has it been since you went a month without taking Communion? For me, my best guess is that is has been over twenty years, since I was a freshman in college. Given the seriousness of COVID-19, it may be several more months before we are together again at the Lord's Table. For now, I feel sustained by the rhythm of Morning and Evening Prayer combined with the adrenaline rush of trying to stitch together our Holy Week offerings despite being physically distant from one another. I suspect, however, that, in the weeks ahead, my longing for Communion will intensify and the spiritual sustenance I receive from gathering at the altar alongside a congregation I love will feel even more profoundly distant. In this sacramental desert, when we are cut off from Communion with Christ and with one another, we must all search for ways we can still be fed.
One way we can do that is by recognizing that God meets us and fills us when, despite being removed from the Eucharist, we desire Holy Communion. In The Armed Forces Prayer Book, published in 1951, The Episcopal Church shared an ancient prayer through which Christians who are unable to receive the bread and wine make their Communion spiritually. That prayer, an adapted form of which is found below, is a means by which we can be assured that God grants us the benefit of Communion—union with Christ's mystical body, forgiveness of our sins, and a foretaste of the heavenly banquet—through our desire for Communion. As Thomas Aquinas wrote, "the reality of the sacrament can be had through the very desire of receiving the sacrament" (Summa Theologia III.73.3). In other words, we can receive Communion simply because we long for Communion.
Of course, being together in person and receiving the consecrated bread and wine in their physical forms is preferred. As Aquinas also wrote, "the actual receiving of the sacrament produces more fully the effect of the sacrament than does the desire thereof" (Summa III.80.1). Thus, even in Spiritual Communion, something is missing. As Lent comes to an end and the joy of Easter takes hold in our hearts, we expect to celebrate our Lord's resurrection by partaking of his body and blood. Back on Ash Wednesday, in the invitation to a holy Lent, we recalled how, in the ancient church, "those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled...and restored to the fellowship of the Church." Easter is the time when all of us, regardless of how long it has been since we shared Communion, are drawn back together again at the Table. But not this year.
At the Easter Vigil, we will pray the prayer for Spiritual Communion at the altar as the expression of our fervent desire to receive the body and blood of Jesus. We could celebrate the Eucharist on the livestream and let the presider receive on everyone's behalf, but that seems to me to be an artificial way to satisfy the sacramental hunger we are experiencing in this Eucharistic fast. We must long for the time when we can receive it again together, and we must remember that that longing itself is the means by which God unites us with Christ and with one another.
In union, O Lord, with the faithful at every altar of your Church, where the Holy Eucharist has been celebrated throughout the generations, I desire to offer you praise and thanksgiving. I present to you my soul and body with the earnest wish that, through your death and resurrection, I may always be united to you. And, since I cannot now receive you sacramentally, I ask you to come spiritually into my heart. I unite myself to you and embrace you with all the affections of my soul. Let nothing ever separate you from me. May I live and die in your love. Amen.
Yours Faithfully,
Evan