From
The December 2002 St John's Eagle
“Drink
this, all of you”
by
John Harcourt
From
the beginning, Christian communities have been plagued with the spirit of divisiveness.
We vs. They — the church vs. the Pharisees, the Jews, the pagans — against
heretics of a thousand different types. Even within the congregation, lines have
been drawn between the converts of Paul, Apollo, or Cephas (1 Cr. 1–12),
between high church people and low church members, between those who like the
rector and those who don't. Once, one of my students, returning from a visit to
a well known Anglican monastery which he was thinking of joining, was in shock
over the venomous remarks of some of the monks regarding the Roman communion.
More
and more, New Testament scholars have been interpreting the exclusionary passages
of the gospels as reflections of tensions within the early church rather than
as authentic teachings of Jesus. More and more, we are coming to stress Jesus'
inclusion of everybody within his embrace, his unwillingness to reject anyone
willing to approach him. But we have spent two thousand years attempting to evade
or qualify that radical non-judgmental inclusiveness.
Consider
the Beatitudes. Luke's four (6:20–23) are generally considered to be closer
to what Jesus actually said than Matthew's nine (5:3–12). Matthew was clearly
disturbed by the original text that both he and Luke used — precisely because
it was too inclusive. Luke states “Blessed are you poor,” using a Greek
word that means utterly destitute, reduced to beggary to keep body and soul together
(not “the deserving poor,” so dear to Anglicans). Matthew retains
the word but radically transforms its meaning with his “Blessed are the poor
in spirit ” Luke invokes a blessing on the hungry — just that,
truly, physically hungry. But Matthew amends this to “those who hunger and
thirst for righteousness.” Luke’s “Blessed are you that
weep now, for you shall laugh” is toned down to “Blessed are those who
mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew’s additional beatitudes
tend to be spiritualized: “Blessed are the merciful,” “Blessed
are the pure in heart,” “Blessed are the peacemakers.” He does
not threaten the grim actualities of a world structured on the difference between
the haves and the have-nots.
Contrast
the starkness, the physicality of Luke: people who are really destitute, really
hungry, really weeping, really hated. He does not offer us a pious dream of the
socially approved virtuous coming forward for their reward.
Luke had said much the same thing in the Magnificat: God has scattered the proud,
put down the mighty from their thrones, filled the hungry with good things, sent
the rich empty away — not the “virtuous” hungry, not the “evil”
rich, just a stark dichotomy between the rich and the poor. Luke envisions a total
reversal of conventional values, a social revolution in which all the “outs”
will be “in.” Someone I once read compared the Magnificat with the Communist
Manifesto.
It would take too long to review all the miracle episodes, but in general the
pattern is clear. Someone in dire need approaches Jesus. He does not present that
person with a questionnaire to be filled out; he does not demand a confession
of sins. Rather, he heals, simply heals. “Go and sin no more” is almost
an afterthought, a hint of how outcasts might choose to behave once they have
been accepted.
Perhaps the supreme example of inclusiveness is the Last Supper. What an unlikely
crew! Judas, who had already betrayed him; Peter, who would deny him before the
night was over; the rest who couldn’t even stay awake during the Agony in
the Garden and who would go scurrying off to safety before morning, leaving only
a handful of women to witness the Crucifixion from afar. Yet until 1979, and even
now in Rite I, we have heard “Drink ye all of this,” in which all in
normal English usage, goes naturally with this — the contents of the cup.
The original “Drink this, all of you” sounds impatient, almost
harsh as though Jesus was all too aware of the limitations of his chosen few but
accepted them anyway, as they were. (Editor's note— these are the words from
the Rite II Eucharistic prayers.)
The church from its beginning has been casting about for reasons to exclude the
“unworthy” from communion. If we do not think right, behave properly
(according to someone’s standards), we are not to participate. For one brief
interval, Saint John’s printed in its Sunday leaflet “All who accept
Jesus’s invitation are welcome at His table.” Only individuals, in their
inalienable freedom, may choose to decline that invitation. (Editor's note —
We now print “God welcomes us all to the table,”)
Building fences around the altar is not what Jesus intended. Nor is turning differences
of opinion into grounds for rejection.
Professor Harcourt is the Charles A. Dana Professor of
English English Emeritus
at Ithaca College.
