Despite the beauty of the ancient Anaphorae (thinking particularly of Chrysostom and Basil), their beauty pales next to the very Gospel itself. And the Words of Institution ARE the Gospel. They bring to the congregation the glad good news that Christ has given His body “for you” and the contents of the cup being nothing less than the blood of the New Testament, poured out “for you” and “for the remission of sins.”
Through many, many years of use, I have come to treasure the practice of refusing to allow human verbiage to bury the words of Christ. This was not a position that I came to easily. What persuaded me was nothing less than living with the practice. In our congregation, after the Lord’s table has been prepared, the pastor usually reverently washes his hands, and then turns to the people to invite them to pray. The Intercessions follow. When they are done, he turns back to the people and intones the preface. “The Lord be with you…Lift up your hearts…Let us give thanks…” The people chant their responses to these, and the pastor turns back to the altar and intones the Proper (or one of the Common Prefaces). Thanksgiving to God is thus always offered, always on account of His gift of His Son, and whatever the season or day brings with it is the specific joy for which we give thanks. Then concluding with the words that sweep our worship up to the level of the Cherubim and joining our voices with the hosts of heaven, we begin the Sanctus.
The zimbelstern usually starts its tinkling before the singing and we join in the great “Holy, holy, holy.” Heads are often bowed, as we remember how the angels veil their faces before the Blessed Trinity. When the Benedictus (“Blessed is He…”) rings out, many make the sign of the cross on themselves. They are standing on tiptoe with the crowd from Palm Sunday, and we know that the One who comes in the name of the Lord is coming to us here and now to bring us salvation. That is what we pray in the word “Hosanna.” When the Sanctus (so often you hear the piece sung in parts) and the zimbelstern die away, there is a brief silence before the Pastor intones: “Our Father…”
The slowing down of the prayer enables us all to pray it, not to rattle through it. And you will hear Alex, with Downs, or other of the children, sometime raise their voices to finish the lines. It is beautiful. But then, then comes the solemn moment.
The pastor remains standing at the altar. The deacon, subdeacon, and acolyte are on their knees. After another brief pause, the holy Verba are intoned: “Our Lord Jesus Christ.” Again, as with the Our Father, the chanting slows this down, and you almost have the sensation of time standing still. Or better, of all times being gathered together. When Pastor begins the very words of Jesus: “This is my Body…”, those assisting at the altar bow profoundly. When he has completed the words of Jesus about the bread, he lifts the host up for the congregation to see. The chime on the organ rings solemnly and slowly three times. As we look upon the host to which Christ has joined His body, many silently pray: “My Lord and my God” with St. Thomas on easter eve. My own prayer at that point includes: “Your own of Your own, which You offered on behalf of all and for us all.” The pastor then carefully places the host back upon the paten and genuflects. This is, after all, the very Body of Him before whom every knee shall bow. We don’t have to wait for that day, for in a profound sense that Day of the Lord comes to us whenever our prayer “Maranatha” is answered at the altar.
The pastor stands again and continues: “In the same way also…” Once more, when he gets to the very words of Christ: “Drink of it, all of you…”, he bows low over the chalice and the servers bow low at the altar. After we have heard Jesus’ promise that the contents of this cup is His blood, shed for us us and for our forgiveness, and that we are to do this in remembrance of Him, again as with the host, the chalice is lifted high. My prayer at that point repeats: “Your own, of Your own, which You offered on behalf of all and for us all.” And then I add from the Te Deum, as my friend Dr. Fritz Eckardt taught me: “We therefore pray Thee to help Thy servants whom Thou hast redeemed by Thy precious blood. Make them to be numbered with Thy saints in glory everlasting.” All of this silently, in response to Jesus words, as the chimes ring out slowly three times. The pastor then genuflects again and many in the congregation bow profoundly.
Then the celebrant picks up the large host and the chalice, and holding the Body above the Blood, he speaks to us that glorious absolution, the Pax Domini: “The peace of the Lord be with you always” and the people sing a hearty “Amen” often as they once more cross themselves. Then the Agnus begins, which the organist drops out from (to make her way to communion) and the singing continues, mostly in four part harmony: “O Christ, Thou Lamb of God…”
I have described our practice for you in detail so that you might get a sense of what is possible when human words are massively restrained, and words from our Lord—both the Our Father and the Words of Institution—are allowed to stand in their sheer beauty, brimming over with the joy of the Gospel. It’s something that having experienced and lived with for decades, I just would not want to cloud over the clarity of the consecration with verbosity. Anything we add aloud of our own at that point feels superfluous. Again, let me reiterate, I do not believe that using a Eucharistic prayer (provided it is sound in its theology and clearly confesses that the VERBA are consecratory and not our intercessions) is wrong; I just have become convinced it is not the best way to bring the congregation into the holy awe before the miracle of the Eucharist.
Rambling thoughts on a cloudy November day from an old pastor. Feel free to agree or disagree below.
