The next step on the journey also happened at RTS.
Actually, upon further reflection, it began when I became captivated by the book of Leviticus. You may know that I, somewhat in jest, proclaim Leviticus as my favorite book in the Bible. I do mean it, though. The book is an enigma to me, yes, but that means I see it as a trove of treasure that must be carefully mined.
Because I believed seeking understanding was one of the most noble tasks set to men (Anselm would say that ours is a “faith seeking understanding”), I determined to mine through all the details of Leviticus and somehow find the keys for deciphering the great promises laid out in the book of Hebrews. Months of study and research resulted in a bible study that I have had the privilege of sharing three times in formal contexts.
Since then, I have always had a finger in the pages of Leviticus as I have studied both personally and formally. During a class on the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible) I decided to write a paper on how the peace offering related to the Lord’s Supper. I hoped I would find something beautiful; little did I know that I would find a cavern of glittering jewels; precious gems to be brought to the surface, “for beauty and for glory,” as the high priest's garments were described.
That paper changed the way I understood the Lord’s Supper, or Eucharist as it is called in sacramental traditions. (To assure you that the paper was not considered heretical, I did make an “A.”)
From that time on, the concept of the Lord’s Supper being merely an ordinance seemed anemic. Here I was, dining with God at His invitation and feasting on Christ, invited to revel in the peace that Christ had established between God and man at a table. To be clear, I do not believe that one must hold to transubstantiation, or that the elements literally become Christ’s body and blood. But I could not view the Supper as a mere “memorial."
No, the moment was meant to be a
celebratory meal in the presence of God.
From that exploration, I became open to a more “sacramental” way of seeing the world.
Of course, there’s always more I could say about the Eucharist as it is celebrated in the Anglican church, and I may dive into the details later down the road. But for now, every time our Southern Baptist church celebrated the Lord’s Supper, I would have to both stifle my grief as well as my desire to stand up and shout out an invitation to everyone around me to see the beauty of what was actually happening.
Before I close this, I want to emphasize that the way churches celebrate the Lord’s Supper or Eucharist are not matters of salvation. Whether you understand the act as an ordinance or a sacrament does not determine whether Jesus will let you into His Kingdom.
While the issue does not relate to salvation, it does relate to formation. David and I continued to ask, “How are we being formed by the things that we do?” not just in our personal lives but in our communal worship. It was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for us to straddle the line between ordinance and sacrament.
If you would like to know the difference between “ordinance” and “sacrament,” here’s a simple explanation:
To Southern Baptists, the Lord’s Supper is an ordinance, a decree set forth by Jesus Christ that we are to obey because He said so. It is also considered a “memorial” act, one played out to simply “remember” what Jesus did. It is not salvific, and nothing transpires in the act itself.
To Anglicans, and many other denominations, the Lord’s Supper is the Eucharist, the “Thanksgiving,” and it is a sacrament. A very succinct definition is an “outward sign instituted by God to convey an inward or spiritual grace” (Dictionary of Theological Terms). Those in sacramental traditions understand that something literally happens in the act. Anglicans believe it to be a real means of grace imparted to us, real spiritual food for our souls. Throughout most of church history this has been the general understanding.
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