Psychologists tell us that people tend to remember the beginning and end of things better than what happens in between. That is probably why we mark beginnings and endings with rituals and ceremonies. The rituals may be jubilant or somber, but they draw us together around significant moments and act as a kind of preservative in the days and years ahead.
Next week, Gay and I will be with friends in Nevada, to which they have retired. They wanted to mark this new beginning by offering prayers and supplications to God, so I will be officiating at the blessing of their new home. They want their faith to be the spiritual foundation for the new life they have begun in their new home and community.
When I meet with couples planning to be married, I ask them to imagine how it will be on their fiftieth wedding anniversary and make a list of the things they will need to be able to say about their life together at that time. They bring the list back to me and we review it. I explain to them that this list represents their life goals. Then, I ask them to keep this list in a safe place and review it on their anniversary or some other time every year so they can monitor their progress. The idea is for them to be reminded on a regular basis of the dreams and visions they shared at the beginning, so that they will not wander too far off course through the intervening years. It is a way of remembering and looking forward during the long journey.
Just before he sent the final plague upon the Egyptians, God instructed Moses and Aaron to tell the Israelites to prepare a ceremonial meal. It was the first Passover. It was the last meal they would eat before leaving their life of slavery. God also told them to make it an annual feast, to commemorate how God liberated them with a mighty hand. It marked the end of one way of life and the beginning of a new one. (Exodus 12:1-14)
From that day on, to participate in the ritual was to remember and become a part of the story it celebrated. In that story, God promised to set the slaves free. What were they to do in anticipation of that freedom? They were to gather together and eat a particular meal. In doing so they acknowledged and celebrated both who they were and who their God was. Their God is the One who lives in the midst of people, sets them free, and makes them his own. The Passover celebration thus bound the people together and to their God. It was, and still is, a covenant meal between God and God's own people.
It was at a Passover meal in Jerusalem that Jesus instituted the Holy Eucharist, the Lord's Supper. There with his disciples he related the old, old story of deliverance. But this time, he gave new meaning to things. The unleavened bread is his body broken, the cup of wine is his blood shed to set people free from slavery to sin and death. And he is the spotless Lamb of God whose sacrifice is sufficient to take away the sin of the world – for all people, for all time!
When we eat this bread and drink this cup, we celebrate and remember anew not only how God liberated his people from slavery in Egypt but also how God in Christ liberated us. Now, this kind of remembering is not simply recalling information about some things that happened to some people long ago. It is a kind of remembering in which we find ourselves in the story. The past reaches out and touches the present and transforms it. Like the ancient Israelites, we gather together as a family to eat a particular meal. And, in so doing, we acknowledge and celebrate both who we are and who God is. Our God is the one who dwells in our midst, sets people free and makes them his own! The Eucharistic feast, like the Passover celebration, binds us to one another and to our God.
Jesus loved to eat and drink. Meals were often the setting for important moments in his life and ministry. He told parables that involved meals. A meal is a time of sharing and sharing his divine life is central to his mission. When we gather around this table, he is our host. We come at his bidding. We bring our corporate story as a faith community, as well as our individual stories, and we join them with the story we pray in the Great Thanksgiving. When we rise, by the mysterious, living presence of Christ in the Sacrament, and the action of God's grace, we discover that story has transformed ours. It is a time of new beginnings. Our loins are girded, our sandals are on our feet, and our staff is in our hand. We have been liberated once again from slavery to those things that keep us from abundant living and set free to go on with the journey toward our own salvation.
It is good to know, especially during times of transition, that when we gather to eat this meal, we leave one way of life behind and begin a new one.
P.S. Here's a lovely hymn about new beginnings. You'll find the text beneath the video by clicking "Show More."
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