Tom Wright (15:58)
Tom wow, these are great questions, and I'm delighted that they come up in the context of our shared work because they are really pretty important. And if I can speak reverently, it's quite like a wise, deeply loving married couple who are aware that their intimate relationship, their sexual relationship, has many dimensions to it and isn't just about a short time of pleasure, but is actually expressing something about who they are as a couple and that the rest of their life together as a couple comes into this moment and flows out from this moment, et cetera. I would say the same, and many theologians have said this, this isn't just me, that the sacramental life of the church is like the intimacy between the risen Lord and his people and should be approached with the same sense, both of delight and of awe, that such a thing should. And of course, for a full theology of this, you need to track back to the Passover. In the ancient Israelite world, Jesus was very deliberately taking a quasi Passover meal. We could debate exactly what sort of a Passover meal it was, but Jesus was doing this at Passover, and that wasn't an accident. He'd come to Jerusalem at that time because what he was doing was launching the new covenant, which was picking up from the covenant which God had made with his people when he brought them out of Egypt. And saying this now is the reality. Jeremiah promised a new covenant, not like the original one, because now it was going to affect the whole person, the heart as well, et cetera. And Jesus is saying, that's what's going on now. But more than that, he was talking about himself, not just pointing away from himself, but pointing to himself. This is my body, this is my blood. But that is extraordinary. And if anyone was tempted to be skeptical about the words of Jesus and whether Jesus really said them, it seems to me highly unlikely that anyone in the early church would have ever invented those words. So that the prayer of consecration in the church's liturgies does go back to this extraordinary sense of Jesus vocation, that he was among his first followers as the one who was embodying the. The return of Israel's God to his people, as had long been promised the return of Yahweh to Zion. The gospel writers are very clear about this, with all the setup about John the Baptist and the fulfillment of Malachi 3 and Isaiah 40, etc. When we're looking at the story of Jesus, we are looking at the story of Israel's God returning to Zion. And this is where it's all going, this meal which explains Jesus death. And I've said many times, when Jesus wanted to explain to his followers what his forthcoming death was about, he didn't give them a theory, he gave them a meal. Because the meal transcends theory. To talk about it, to produce a theory about it, is like producing theory about music. You know, clever people write program notes for a symphony concert. But actually the program notes are often much harder to understand than the music itself. And the music itself in this case, is the sharing of the bread and the wine and the doing so too, together as a body, even if it's when two or three, or whether it's 200, 300, 1000, whatever. So from that point of view, all sorts of divergences take place. And we shouldn't be surprised at that, because the death of Jesus is the moment when heaven and earth come rushing together and God comes into our midst to take the wickedness of the world onto himself and deal with it in order to make the way through into new creation, new life, new covenant. We shouldn't be surprised that that has been very controversial with theories of the atonement, et cetera. And we shouldn't be surprised that the meal which Jesus gave us as the clue to what his cross was gonna mean has also been a matter of controversy. And it's got muddled up with different philosophical and cultural assumptions and so on. And the history of the church and the different denominations has reflected that. Now, famously, we can't possibly lay out the whole medieval theology here, but famously in the Middle Ages, Thomas Aquinas and others took the philosophy of the Greek writer Aristotle, who made a distinction between substance and accidents. Those are philosophical terms with the substance being the kind of inner core of something, whatever it is, which we don't normally see or touch or smell. But it's the kind of. We have to imagine that there is an inner core that's the substance, and the accidents are the outward things. What's it taste of, what's it smell like, what's it feel like, how heavy is it? Et cetera. And so Aquinas didn't say that the accidents change the bread, still looks, feels, tastes like bread, but that the substance, there's an inner core, and that has changed. I don't find that Aristotelian theory very helpful. And it's clear that by the 16th century, when the Protestant Reformation happened, many ordinary worshipers in European Christianity didn't really understand the difference between substance and accidents and had developed a kind of folk religion in which the priest at the altar muttered and mumbled various things and did certain manual acts, and that this magically changed the bread as a whole into Jesus as a whole. And then all that follows from that in terms of devotional practices about genuflecting or whatever. Now, the Protestant reformers, in rejecting that imagined construct, often went to the other extreme of saying, it's just a symbol, it's just a pointer, it's just a memorial. It just reminds us. We do this because it reminds us of Jesus dying for us. Well, it does remind us of Jesus dying for us, but I want to say it's much more than that. And the much more doesn't take you back to Aristotle. It takes you back to the whole gospel message of new creation. I may have said this before in podcasts, I'm honestly not sure, but in my new book, God's Homecoming, I have a whole chapter on the sacraments and how we can understand sacramental life in these terms. That God is doing new creation. It is launched with Jesus and his resurrection body by the Spirit. It is already at work in the world, and one day it will be complete. And I have come to see that when we receive the bread and the wine, it is, as it were, a gift from God's future. That in God's future creation, which has already been launched in Jesus, all will be renewed, restored. God will be all in all, and we are given this advance. Foretaste that it's rather like in the stories of the children of Israel in the desert. The spies go into the promised Land, and they come back with these amazing grapes that they have cut from the valley of Eshcol. And the children of Israel, even while they're in the wilderness, are tasting the fruit of the Promised land. I find that a much more helpful image that we are tasting in advance the reality of our ultimate relationship with Jesus. Now, that's one way of doing it. There may well be other ways. But I understand that different denominations are worried about misinterpretations, and so they move back in the other direction, or worried about a less full interpretation so they swing back towards the medievals or whatever. It would be wonderful if we could all learn to think more first century about this. In other words, more like a first century Judean would have done to hear what Jesus is saying and then to experience that sense of new creation coming forward from God's ultimate future to meet us in the present. Now that brings us to the very important question about children and eating and drinking unworthily. I remember being in church when one of my children was, I think, three, and when communion was being passed round, we had to tell her to keep her hands down because she wasn't supposed to have it. I and I vividly remember her saying, but why can't I have it? I love Jesus too. And I remember in that moment realizing that there was no way that I as an adult could say, no, no, no, dear, you don't love Jesus. You have to wait till you're older. Because when we know about Jesus, one of the things we know is he loved little children and he loved having them around and sat them on his lap and he prayed for them and with them, and no doubt joked and laughed and teased them, et cetera, et cetera. And he said, unless you become like little children, you won't be part of my family, part of my new way of being human. And I also remember a long time ago, a cousin of mine, he and his wife were about to have a baby, and they were early, middle life, it was quite a late wedding and quite a late childbearing. And they asked me before the first child was born, how old does a child have to be before they are aware of God? And I think they were expecting me to say maybe 7, 8, 9. And I said, oh, about 10 minutes. And they looked at me very surprised. And I said, when you have a child at the breast, the natural focus of the child's eyes is on the mother's eyes. And you establish a very intimate relationship very, very early in that child. Obviously, ideally, it doesn't always happen because there may be difficulties with the birth or with feeding or whatever. I said, wouldn't it be extraordinary if our heavenly f Father wasn't able to establish a relationship with his newborn children right off? And so I have long been an advocate of preparing young children to receive communion, not in huge theological theory, but teaching them about coming together and meeting Jesus in this strange but very powerful way and then educating them obviously in the Christian faith. And this isn't a bit of magic. This is about the richly human welcome of children into the people of God. And I'm glad that more and more families are doing that. But no doubt controversy will continue. But let's do it together and let's prayerfully seek ways of sharing this extraordinary meal across denominations, because that's one of the things that goes with this. In Galatians 2, Paul is insistent that all those who believe in Jesus belong at the same table. And I would say that's true trans ethnically and it's true across the ages, the very old, the very young and the ordinary middle aged altogether. That's what it should be all about.