In One Kind

With the current coronavirus situation, a number of churches and jurisdictions are switching to Holy Communion in one kind, i. e. via bread only and no wine.  The Archbishops of the Church of England have strongly advised this.  Pusey House is following that advice.  ACNA Archbishop Foley Beach has mandated that for his Diocese of the South and has recommended that as an alternative for ACNA as a whole as has Presiding Bishop Ray Sutton to his Reformed Episcopal Church (REC).

In so doing, Sutton notes:

There is an old understanding in the Church, “To receive in one kind is to receive in both kinds.” That is, theologically speaking we are given to understand the Sacrament of Holy Communion remains a means of grace if received only in one kind. Either element alone conveys what Christ says of the Lord’s Supper, when He says, “This is My Body; This is My Blood.” Clearly the preferred pattern is to receive in both kinds, but the fact is that throughout the history of Christianity some believers have only been able to receive in one kind for physical, personal or medical reasons.

I do not know what my REC parish will do, but I personally am switching to one kind for a while. Now I have not studied this subject in any detail.  But I do know that Sutton is correct and that receiving in one kind is a long standing practice, the normal one in the West in medieval times.  The doctrine of transubstantiation (which I do not hold) has it that the host contains both the body and the blood. As for Real Presence guys such as myself, it would certainly be odd to say one must receive in both kinds to receive Christ.  The Anglican reformers emphasized the importance of the availability of communion in both kinds, but I think even they regarded communion in one kind as still valid.  (Those who have studied this more may feel free to correct me.)

So I think the validity of communion in one kind is good doctrine.  And it is comforting doctrine for those with compromised immune systems, for those who fear drinking alcohol, and during times of contagion.

Now those little Baptist shot cups are another matter. ;)

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By the way, I have seen online that one ACNA parish is suspending services for three weeks. I am in the process of verifying which parish.

The Sanctus with the Benedictus is meet and right.

It is funny how long it can take one, namely me, to notice something both obvious and important.  But at Mass last Sunday at Pusey House I noticed how well the Benedictus fits with the Sanctus even if it was appended about a thousand years ago or more.

I therefore consider it an innovation . . . but a good one.

Perhaps the good fit of the Benedictus eluded me because my parish does not use it.  The Reformed Episcopal Church’s Book of Common Prayer is traditional low church (even as we have become slightly higher church) and follows the 1662 BCP in not having the Benedictus with the Sanctus.  My memory is fuzzy on whether REC parishes are allowed to use the Benedictus, but my parish does not.

Back to this past Sunday’s Mass, the musical setting was Herbert Howells’ Collegium Regale.  That, sung by the very good Pusey House choir, drew my mind well to the holiness of God expressed in the Sanctus.

But then as the Benedictus was sung, I remembered that Christ is our holy King, yet he comes to us “lowly and riding on a donkey” and he comes to us in the Holy Communion.  And I finally but immediately saw what an excellent summation the Sanctus with the Benedictus is of the Eucharist – God is “holy, holy, holy”; yet he graciously and humbly comes to us in the incarnation and in the Holy Communion.

Yes, as wonderful as this is, it should be obvious to the catholic Christian.  But it is no less good for me to see it this past Sunday at Pusey House.

First Chalice

The past Sunday was my first time to be in charge of the chalice.

Sunday morning, Father John, the associate Rector, pulled me aside and asked me to administer the chalice. The lead Rector couldn’t walk due to a sprained ankle and John wasn’t feeling 100% himself.

I tried to talk him out of it, pointing out that I’m clumsy and haven’t even practiced it. But I didn’t want to say no to him. So I was volunteered. He showed me what to do. And thankfully, my words were reduced to “The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation.” I asked if that conformed with REC rubrics, and he assured me it did. The usual formula at my parish is much wordier (and more Zwinglian, too). So I’m thankful I was given a much shorter sentence.

I vested for the first time. I wore the Rector’s vestments as we are very close in size and shape, but I otherwise vested like an acolyte as I am laity. Also, I did not participate in any way in the consecration. No lay presidency here.

Before the service, when we were praying in the vestry, I asked if there was a prayer against spillages. Father John later instructed me to avoid overfilling the chalice . . . then during the service filled it a bit too close to the brim for my comfort.

Fortunately, everyone was easy to give the chalice to. One two year old who usually takes a drink intincted, by his merciful mom’s instructions I’m sure.

I did help John consume the remaining wine. That knocked me for a small loop. Not even in college did I gulp down that much wine.

But I think I kept liturgical abominations to a minimum. And there were no spillages. So it went as well as can be expected.

And, yes, I would do it again. It’s a service beyond words.

I Receive.

After having given up hope of receiving the Sacrament until I got back home, I finally received this morning.

I found a place* that is very orthodox and independent enough of Canterbury that I could conscientiously receive. It might be going too far to say their communion with Canterbury is impaired, but it definitely would not go too far to say that it’s not 100%. And that’s good enough for me.

So, though it was dawn on a Monday morning, I walked with a spring in my step to go and take my first communion in almost exactly a month (in spite of going to services just about every day).

Though very solemn, this Mass wasn’t tinged with sadness for me like other Eucharists I’ve attended in the past month. There wasn’t that sense that I was missing out, that I was only a partial participant. A number of the prayers of the Mass are such that they remind you that you are not receiving if that is the case. And I’ve felt that loss each of the few times I’ve attended a Eucharist in the past month.

But not this morning.

After I received and sat down, I felt a deep peace, like a sense of relief. And after the Mass ended I had to pause to regain my composure before going to breakfast.



*(I think it best I not identify the place. The nature of their relationship with Canterbury was given in a confidential conversation. So I think it best to be extra safe for their sake and keep it confidential.)