Tuesdays at Seminary of the Southwest meant two very important things. One, it was soup day in the dining hall—a huge plus! And two, right before we had lunch together we shared in the Lord’s Supper together in the Chapel using a Spanish language service. For all its gifts, the Episcopal Church has not provided a very good Spanish language Prayer Book. But, there is one line that always stood out as authentic and profound when we said the Eucharist together.
After the priest says the Eucharistic Prayer and breaks the bread at what is called the Fraction, often some words follow the moment of silence. In English the celebrant will sometimes say:
“Alleluia! Christ our Passover, has been sacrificed for us.”
The people reply, “Therefore let us keep the feast. Alleluia!” To me these words sound particularly formal in English, like we are attending a frigid banquet for a king or queen; however the bit that I most clearly recall from the Spanish-speaking Eucharist indicates something quite different.
Celebrant: [¡Aleluya!] Cristo, nuestra Pascua, se ha sacrificado por
nosotros.
People: ¡Celebremos la fiesta! [¡Aleluya!]
These words carry a more festive feel, as though they are saying: “Let’s get this party going!” God has given us a great gift through Jesus showing us that life conquers death, why wouldn’t we celebrate? Of all the Gospel accounts, John’s words most clearly take on this same belief: in the coming of Christ the world—all of Creation celebrates!
Right off the bat in John’s telling of the Good News, Jesus partakes in celebrating. His first sign—pointing to God’s glory—came at a wedding party in Cana. While the story always makes me laugh because his mother has to coax him into acting, Jesus eventually turns a lot of water into a lot of wine—like way more wine than could be consumed at even a huge wedding. This indicates to us that God’s reign, as expressed in Christ coming to earth, is not just an everyday affair. God coming to dwell with us deserves a party of abundance that is a fete, a fiesta, a raging party for the ages!
John does not stop here. Throughout the entire Gospel there are stories of abundance: Jesus healing a royal official in Cana, curing a paralyzed person at Bethsaida, feeding the five thousand in the wilderness, and raising Lazarus from the dead at Bethany are just a few examples of the abundant, joyful celebration that is life in Christ. While other Gospel accounts tell of the Last Supper being a Passover meal, John instead tells this story from the perspective that Jesus himself is the bread on which the world will feast. He is the one who provides the sustenance, the fuel for the party to continue.
Often Episcopal clergy people will lament one aspect of the way John tells this festive tale of Jesus coming to set God’s people free. Throughout the summer months for five straight weeks we are stuck in Jesus’ Bread of Life description. He has come as the bread on which the world will feast and be freed, and yet for several weeks in a row clergy people must rehash this same theme over and over again. What I can happily say now—even though we will get those text in just a few short months—is that this overly descriptive part of John’s Gospel account gives us a glimpse into even the overabundance in describing how Jesus feeds us through his loving presence in this world.
Life in Christ is not a frigid affair. In this season of Nativity when we recall the light of Christ coming into the darkness and drear of this time of year, may we be enlivened by John’s sharing of the Good News. We celebrate the apostle and evangelist today—as part of our Christmas festivities. May the exciting, uplifting, and festive way that John shared the Good News dwell in our hearts at this time of year and always. May we celebrate life in Christ as a party of unequaled proportions!
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