You think you know Mary?You don’t know Mary. Come.

THE RESURRECTION OF MARY – An Idle Tale To commemorate this festival day, I repost this not-so-long-ago encounter with a visiting New Testament scholar to entice you to follow Mary out of her tomb and beyond the streets to her place at the head of the fledgling community that became the church: He just said […]

via Feast Day of St. Mary of Magdala: the Apostle to the Apostles — pastordawn

Lord’s Supper — Frederick Buechner

This is a wonderful reflection on The Holy Eucharist. Episcopalians can turn to pg. 355 in The Book [of Common Prayer].

The Lord’s Supper is make-believe. You make believe that the one who breaks the bread and blesses the wine is not the plump parson who smells of Williams’ Aqua Velva but Jesus of Nazareth. You make believe that the tasteless wafer and cheap port are his flesh and blood. You make believe that by swallowing them you are swallowing his life into your life and that there is nothing in earth or heaven more important for you to do than this. It is a game you play because he said to play it. “Do this in remembrance of me.” Dothis. Play that it makes a difference. Play that it makes sense. If it seems a childish thing to do, do it in remembrance that you are a child. Remember Max Beerbohm’sHappy Hypocrite, in which a wicked man wore the mask of a saint to woo and win the saintly girl he loved. Years later, when a castoff girlfriend discovered the ruse, she challenged him to take off the mask in front of his beloved and show his face for the sorry thing it was. He did what he was told, only to discover that underneath the saint’s mask, his face had become the face of a saint. This same reenactment of the Last Supper is sometimes called the Eucharist, from a Greek word meaning “thanksgiving,” that is, at the Last Supper itself Christ gave thanks, and on their part Christians have nothing for which to be more thankful. It is also called the Mass, frommissa, the word of dismissal used at the end of the Latin service. It is the end. It is over. All those long prayers and aching knees. Now back into the fresh air. Back home. Sunday dinner. Now life can begin again.Exactly. It is also called Holy Communion because, when feeding at this implausible table, Christians believe that they are communing with the Holy One himself, his spirit enlivening their spirits, heating the blood, and gladdening the heart just the way wine, as spirits, can. They are also, of course, communing with each other. To eat any meal together is to meet at the level of our most basic need. It is hard to preserve your dignity with butter on your chin, or to keep your distance when asking for the tomato ketchup. To eat this particular meal together is to meet at the level of our most basic humanness, which involves our need not just for food but for each other. I need you to help fill my emptiness just as you need me to help fill yours. As for the emptiness that’s still left over, well, we’re in it together, or it in us. Maybe it’s most of what makes us human and makes us brothers and sisters. The next time you walk down the street, take a good look atevery face you pass and in your mind say, “Christ died for thee.” That girl. That slob. That phony. That crook. That saint. That damned fool.Christdied for thee. Take and eat this in remembrance that Christ died forthee. ~originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words

Source: Lord’s Supper — Frederick Buechner