Sermon: ‘It is I; do not be afraid.'

There is a certain irony that on a Sunday when the lectionary gives us the story of the miraculous feeding of an enormous number of people I find myself in the pulpit having to explore the administration of Holy Communion in one kind.  There is a danger that in the face of an instance of divine abundance we appear to be practising a human avarice by restricting the chalice.  But what needs to be said above all this morning is that the Blessed Sacrament in one kind is no less than it is in two.

    It must first be said that we have been left with no room for manoeuvre.  From the moment when the Archbishops accepted the Department of Health's advice and wrote to their fellow bishops it was incumbent upon us to act as they recommend.  Every other cathedral from which I have heard on the Precentors' Conference electronic mailing list has done exactly the same as we have.  Some have gone further in asking people not to shake hands or kiss one another when exchanging a sign of peace.  But it is also clear that most of us are surprised that we have been asked to suspend the administration of shared chalices, principally because of the gap between what is generally perceived about what is currently unfolding and the known facts of the matter. 

    In a normal winter influenza causes the death of 6-7,000 people; this is disturbing enough, but in an acute year there could be 20,000 more.  The last time we saw anything like an epidemic (which means, I was surprised to learn, simply ‘more cases than normal') was in the winter of 1999-2000 when there were 21,000-5,000 fewer, mercifully, than expected.  When I last checked on the latest pandemic (which means ‘more cases than normal world-wide') we had just passed the 30 mark.  This ought to give us a sense of perspective.

    That being said, most, if not all, of us would really rather not get influenza in any of its variants.  A week in bed feeling ghastly is something we would rather avoid, and so, given that it is for the sake of reducing the likelihood of such vexation, perhaps we oughtn't to be too churlish, even if some of us do pride ourselves on having skin like a rhino and a constitution like an horse!

    Instead, let us take this to be an opportunity to contemplate the mystery of the way in which we participate in the Holy Eucharist.

    The Church has always taught that the fullness of the presence of Christ is to be found in both the Sacrament of his Body and the Sacrament of his Blood, and that we have our fullest communion with him in either or both.  It was the experience of a great many of our forebears to receive the host and not the chalice, in times no less spiritually fruitful than our own.  Similar concerns over the spread of diseases far worse than influenza by shared drinking-vessels brought about the withdrawal of the chalice in the mediæval western Church: times, one might point out, when higher doctrines of the power of the Sacrament to ward off ill were held than now.  Rather amusingly, anyone who knows a bit about liturgical history is also busy quoting the law of the land, because the Sacrament Act of 1547 gives us our legal guarantee of being allowed to receive in one kind.

    The reformers of the sixteenth century wanted, quite rightly, to return to the practice of Our Lord at the Last Supper and to see a cup shared between friends.  Without wishing to appear to be a naïve literalist, this is what describes our normal practice in the Church of England: we drink from one cup.  We ought not to dip our hosts in it, or take drops out of it and dab them on consecrated hosts: the practice of intinction is not only unfortunately reminiscent of what one does with chips in mayonnaise; it does not decrease the possibility of transferring infection as people think.  It increases it, either because people are putting their fingers at risk of dipping in the Precious Blood and so putting their germs in it, or because the one administering Communion is at risk of getting saliva on his fingers, and so passing germs to the next communicant.  We put our lips to the chalice and drink from it.  Common sense meets theology when we reflect that this is a powerfully counter-cultural thing to do, expressing a depth of kinship with one another from which many in our society are busy running away.

    At the same time we do this with sensitivity towards and affection for one another: we ought not to adorn our lips with substances which leave oily marks on the rim; we ought not to take it to our mouths if we know we are or may be carrying a contagion-at such times we receive only the Sacrament of the Body, knowing that thereby we receive Christ.  Fully.  Equally, there may be times when we cannot swallow solids; gluten may make us ill and there are no gluten-free hosts available; we may be unconscious in a hospital bed-at those times we receive only the Sacrament of the Blood, knowing that thereby we receive Christ. Fully.

    It is a mature understanding of the presence of Christ in the Sacrament he ordained that keeps us from folly.  It would be too easy to make grand claims about the apotropaic powers of the chalice, claiming that a vessel of grace could not possibly carry germs: but what sets out to be an expression of confidence in the operation of grace ends up in superstition about its earthly vehicles.  Whilst we know that what we are talking about is not a magic trick, we do well to remember that ‘hocus pocus' comes from the mis-heard ‘hoc est enim corpus meum' (‘for this is my body') of the Eucharistic Prayer.

    This is not unlike insisting that the feeding of a multitude by Jesus is not the waving of one of Mr Olivander's phoenix feather wands, but a revealing of the glorious generosity of God in and through the people who are the crown of his creation.  What we should be careful to take to heart is that although a temporary expedient may ask us to partake in just one of the outward forms God has given us, the inward grace knows no diminution.  Whether we receive both or either one we have the answer to St Paul's prayer for the Christians of Ephesus and for us, ‘to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.'

    To him be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever.  Amen.