Black, Violet, and Blue

Pope Cope

In digging around some of my liturgical textbooks, I came across Martin Dudley's entry on liturgical colors in The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship (which, in my humble opinion, should be a required text for anyone involved in liturgical planning). He remarks on the connection between blue, violet, and black vestments:

Black, violet, and blue seem to be interchangeable in the medieval palette, and black was used in Jerusalem in Advent and on Christmas Eve instead of violet and was also assigned to feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This is perhaps part of the development of blue as Mary's colour, as found in Cologne.

Those who argue for certain Marian overtones -- or at least a connection between the colors of Advent and Marian feasts -- do have some room to argue from Tradition, my own misgivings notwithstanding.

Later in the entry, Dudley points to differences between purple: purpureus indicates the "red-purple" and violaceus a "blue-purple." Such distinction does survive today in the General Instruction of the Roman Missal, if memory serves.

Which brings me to a point of minutiae: I tend to call the liturgical color "purple," but properly it is called "violet." From Pfatteicher's Commentary on the Lutheran Book of Worship:

The drafters of the Commons Service Book  and the Service Book and Hymnal knew the tradition out of which they came and so specified "violet" as the proper color for Advent and Lent, translating  violaceus of the Roman rubrics. The name, in Latin and in English, was intended to describe a blue-purple. The editors of the Lutheran Book of Worship, bowing to prevailing popular practiced, used "purple" to describe the color rather than "violet," but the book encourages the use of blue, listing it first.

Work to Do While We Wait: In Praise and Defense of a Purple Advent

One of the fastest ways to start a light-hearted argument in a Lutheran church is to bring up the blue/purple debate around Advent.

Disclaimer: Results may vary. Author is not responsible for any threats of excommunication which may be incurred. Warning: Do not attempt on ELCA Clergy Facebook page as the debate may escalate quickly. Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.

Knowing that I'm treading into unduly controversial waters, let me throw a couple of cards on the table:

• My background is in the United Methodist tradition. Growing up in the 90s and 00s, purple was still the preferred color for Advent. Purple for Advent brings back a lot of nostalgia. (Also, good Lord, am I old enough to have nostalgia?)
• I'm convinced that the term adiaphora was coined specifically to resolve debates about liturgical colors. I can think of few things that matter less. Yes, colors have meanings attached to them, but these attachments are incredibly diverse. We'll come back to this, but suffice it to say that the liturgical colors aren't on the back side of the Ten Commandments. This is not a hill I'm willing to die on. In the end, if you want to send your altar guild on a shopping spree to buy a full set of blue vestments and paraments, go right ahead.
• It's adiaphor, but I'm still passionate about it.
• I favor simplicity when it comes to vestments and paraments. Which is to say, vestments and paraments should be free of large, elaborate illustrations and words. (Looking at you, Gaspard.) In the same line of thought, the fewer sets needed, the better. If you can get away with using one set for two seasons, do it.
• I'm not even going near the use of a rose candle and vestments for Gaudete Sunday. I don't know why some people detest the rose candle so much, but they do. They're wrong, but they do.

So...what color should we use for Advent?

My first instinct is to look at the Tradition. What colors have we used in the past, and why?

Unfortunately, this is not an easy question to answer -- partially because there wasn't a universal custom. Certain proponents of blue will point to the Sarum Rite, and some of the more liturgically savvy proponents of blue prefer to call it "Sarum Blue" -- but the Sarum Rite actually calls for black during Advent AND Lent (hints of a connection we'll revisit later on). I've also seen that the Swedish Church used blue, but I haven't found a firm source on this -- not that I've looked very hard.

As an aside, I have read that different dyes fade to different colors, and so the black vestments in common use may have faded to different colors based on what type of dye was used. Thus, in certain areas, the black Advent and Lent vestments faded to blue, and in other areas, where a different dye was in use, they faded to purple. I like this explanation, and you can read a variation of it here.

The one problem with the above explanation is that it fails to explain for the new-found distinction between Advent and Lent. Some parishes would use blue, others purple. Sure, that makes sense. But when and why did they start using different colors between seasons?

As far as I can tell, the primary color during the first half of the 20th century was purple. Across the board, in Roman Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, and Methodist parishes. Across the US, and presumably Europe as well. And then, suddenly, the Lutheran Book of Worship tossed a hand grenade into the fray, listing blue as the preferred color for Advent. To be fair, I don't think they realized how passionate some parties would become about the liturgical color.

That timeline, by the way, is probably why it has become such a hot-button issue. Advent and Christmas are times when the liturgy gives way to nostalgia. For congregations that adopted the change quickly, they've been using it for nearly forty years. Even late adopters have been going on twenty. That means that we have two generations of people working in ministry who have firm associations of the blue Advent of their childhood, the same way I have firm memories of the purple from my own youth. Neither of us wants to admit that our childhood pastor could have been wrong.

Tradition struck out. What about the colors themselves, can light can they offer?

Colors and their meanings are remarkably fluid. Green, the color we associate with new life and growth, is also associated with envy. You rarely hear about a blue blood with a blue collar job. Pink and blue, the "traditional" distinctions for baby girls and boys, were reversed not long ago.

The main point I hear is that blue is the color of hope.

Prove it.

No, seriously, I want someone to show me an article from the history of art or theology that connects blue and hope -- and before the great Purple/Blue Advent shift. I've seen and heard this article numerous times, but nobody has ever backed up the claim with anything. What makes blue the color of hope? Do we only think this because it was a way to make sense of the new, blue frontal on the pulpit?

If blue is the color of hope, sure, fine, we have a place to start a conversation. But saying it's so does not make it so. It's okay if you want to start a new tradition, but don't make up facts to support your position.

A smaller group points to the connection between blue and the Blessed Virgin Mary. Fair enough, I'll buy that as a foundation, but I have two points of contention. First, given the prevalence of the Lutheran Book of Worship in starting this debate, I would find it difficult to believe that Marian devotion played a significant role. Believe me, as an Evangelische Catholic, I would love to see a renewed devotion to the Blessed Mother, but I doubt that it was a driving force for Lutheran liturgical decisions. Secondly, Mary plays only a small part in Advent; she doesn't show up until Week IV.

Both sides lay claim to the royal connections to their colors, and both sides are correct. From Rev. David Hansen's blog, linked above:

Yes, blue is the color of royalty -- but so is purple. Both colors of fabric were very expensive in the days before chemical dyes, because they required such deep, rich colored berries. If you lived around the Mediterranean, chances are your royalty wore purple -- because those were the berries (or other natural dyes) in wide use. If you lived in Northern Europe, chances are your royalty wore blue -- because those were the berries available.

Purple and blue have royal associations, and thus both are appropriate for our expectation of Christ's advent.

Advocates for a blue Advent this year also point to the penitential implications behind purple. And they're right! We use purple during Lent, and priests and pastors wear purple when visiting the hospital and hearing confession.

So really, it comes down to this: Do Advent and Lent have anything in common? Does Advent have a penitential aspect to it?

Yes. Absolutely, yes.

The liturgical calendar has a sort of symmetry about it. We mark two seasons of purple, in which we wait with proleptic anticipation for that which has happened and will happen, in penitence and hope, for Christ to show up -- in Bethlehem and Jerusalem and at the Resurrection of the Dead. The two purple seasons are followed by the two white and gold seasons, when we celebrate Christ's triumph -- his birth, and then when he returns as the First Born from among the dead. And then each of those seasons are followed by the green of ordinary time.

As we anticipate both the Nativity and the Parousia, we are called to reflect on our own shortcomings. Christ came as a savior and redeemer, and will return as a savior and redeemer. As we await both the Triduum and the Resurrection of the Dead, we are called to reflect on our own shortcomings.

Our Orthodox sisters and brothers understand this; they mark their equivalent of Advent with a full fast.

Using purple for Advent reminds us of the inherent connection between the seasons of the Church year while also reminding us that there is work to be done while we wait.

If our only goal is to differentiate between Advent and Lent, then we are going down the wrong path. Some would dismiss the penitential aspect of Advent -- as though that's the only meaning purple has -- while insisting that Advent is about hopeful preparation. But this misses the mark. Both seasons are about preparation, and preparation requires both penitence and hope. Both seasons call us to an introspective penitence while also joining in the hopeful expectation of Christ's coming in glory. In Advent, we prepare for the Feast of the Nativity, when Christ entered our world, and for Christ's return. In Lent, we prepare for Holy Week, the Triumphal Entry, the Passion, and the Resurrection, and for our Lord's return.

Put up blue, if you want. But please, don't deny the essential connection between Advent and Lent.

Song of a People: Narrative, Liturgy, and the Horror of Resurgent White Nationalism

Jonathan Aigner at Ponder Anew offers this reflection on how "contemporary" worship commodified and marketed to reach certain "target demographics" has created a self-centered Church unwilling and unable to see through the lies and greed of the Trump campaign:

Being a Christian isn’t about simply improved personal behavior in the pursuit of a happier existence. No, God wants changed lives that change the world around them. The ancient principle of lex orandi, lex credendi (“as we worship, so we believe”) holds true. If your corporate worship is self-serving, self-indulgent, and self-absorbed, the kind of disciples you create are going to be narcissistic and masturbatory, finding fulfillment in the satiation of their anxieties and desires.
No wonder a self-serving narcissist won the white evangelical vote.
[...]
Me-worship ignores the evil and oppression in the world. True worship acknowledges the anger, and the violence, and the hatred, and the injustice, and the crap in the world around us.

He's on to something here, but perhaps more than he intended.

In President-elect Trump's unquenchable desire for victory, he opened a crack into a dark cave. His rhetoric and willful use of lies and misinformation created the perfect place for white nationalists to come roaring through. Sure, there's some of the old guard Stormfront crowd. David Duke is still around. But there's a group of men about my age who have taken up the swastika as well.

If you haven't seen it already, take the time to watch The Atlantic's video of the white nationalist gathering in DC.

It's among the most terrifying videos of a grotesque campaign cycle.

Yes, the newly-elected administration has denounced the gathering, but our president-elect has reserved his harshest condemnations for Saturday Night Live and Hamilton.

These are the people that Steve Bannon has tried to court over at Breitbart.

One of my darkest secrets is that I understand the appeal of white nationalism. Let me be very clear here: I am not now, nor have I ever been, associated with a white nationalist group nor subscribed to a white nationalist ideology. I have seen too many slave cabins and concentration camps and too many pictures of lynched men to ever believe that the Klan or Nazis offer anything of real value to the world. Despite the violence, I get the draw and even feel the beginning nudges of temptation as white nationalists play down the racism and play up the romantic notion of mythic origin. I'm not suggesting that white nationalist narrative endeavors are good (quite the opposite) but instead that they are effective.

The racism that drives white nationalism is undeniably violent, and that violence moves from the verbal to the physical. Racial slurs lead to lynching and Kristallnacht.

And they dress it up so well.

Neuschwanstein
Inspired by Wagner's Lohengrin

As a young man, a socially awkward introvert who has a hard time connecting to people and is interested in Romanticism, mythology, and liturgy, I remember fondly my time in Germany. The ever-present castles the dot the hills haunt my imagination. The Bavarian countryside, with its Alpine backdrop, is among the most sublime landscapes I've seen. I've toured King Ludwig's Wagnerian palace, Neuschwanstein; it is truly impressive. Mythology is powerful, and it pulls on the heart as much as the mind. I get why someone would place Germany at the center of a white nationalist mythos. I get the appeal of a story of belonging and identity built around grand mythological imagery.

Consider the Nuremberg Rallies -- what are they if not cultural liturgies on a horrifyingly grand scale? Hitler and his brood were able to dress up their hatred and violence behind a narrative of belonging and nationhood. They disguised their acts of destruction as grand works of creation.

Yes, white nationalists use pseudo-scientific concepts to form an intellectual base, but a misappropriation of genetics and sociology will only get you so far. White nationalism appeals as much to pathos as to logos, and for that, you need a mythic narrative.

They also told a story of a grand nation that was destined for greatness and domination. It wasn't the eugenic theory that attracted German attention. It was the romantic imagery of German nation, paraded through the most picturesque German villages and with a moving symphonic score. And then -- and here's the master stroke -- they gave people a way to re-create this story, to re-live the new mythology.

Which brings us back to the present. The new white nationalists (they call themselves the "Alt Right," but don't let them hide behind a new name; call them what they are: racists) are trying to build up their new mythology, and they're taking the old conservative talking points to do it: that America is a white, European nation built on the genius of Anglo-Saxon culture. That Trump has opened the door for white nationalists to re-take what they believe to be theirs.

Of course, we know this to be false. We know the bloody history of our nation, from the attempted genocide of the native population and the enslavement of countless Africans over the centuries, to the work of Asian immigrants in building the railroads and the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. We know that some of the best aspects of our culture are rooted in immigration from all over the world.

And we know that behind the new face of white nationalism is the same old violence of the old Klan.

But they are dressing it up so well. Richard Spencer is not your average skinhead. He's not some redneck hick, teeth falling out from meth, as he burns a cross. His academic pedigree includes UVA, UChicago, and Duke, and he is impeccably well-dressed, hair pristine and in a three-piece suit. He has a "think tank" in DC with an official sounding name. He calls his movement "Alt Right" rather than what it really is: a new form of fascism supported by the old forms of white racism.

This is not the guy with the confederate flag flying off the back of his pick-up; this is someone selling the image of a metropolitan white nationalism.

He and his ilk are telling a story that racism can build up a new order.

They're lying, but they are learning to lie well.

Which is exactly why they are so dangerous.

And this brings us back to the piece from Ponder Anew.

"Adoration of the Mysitic Lamb" from the Ghent Altarpiece

The Church has a better story than the racists. Ours is Good, True, and Beautiful. Our story is one where even destruction is overturned. Ours is one in which God Almighty looks with favor upon the least of these. Ours is one that offers release to captives, words of lament and comfort for those who mourn, and calls transgressors to true repentance. Ours is one in which Death itself is defeated.

The Church has better rituals than the racists. Ours are Good, True, and Beautiful. Our rituals are means of grace, by which God is present in our midst. The Holy Spirit hovers over the water in our baptismal font. Our Risen Lord meets us on the Altar Table.

When the Church celebrates the Divine Service of the Holy Eucharist, we re-tell the grand narrative that God created the world and has redeemed humanity from our own demonic actions. We re-live our forgiveness and reconciliation, we greet each other as equals with a sign of God's peace, and we are re-membered into the one everlasting Body of Christ. And then we are sent forth in peace to serve the Lord.

But when the Church ignores that story -- when it opts instead to offer a "message" on the role of emotional vulnerability in building up healthy communities rather than preaching Christ crucified and risen -- when it opts to ignore the world-building narrative arc of the catholic liturgy in favor of a rock concert -- when it chooses to chase the world's view of success rather than the assured victory of Christ's Resurrection -- when the Church fails to be the Church, it forsakes what is Good, True, and Beautiful.

Consider the failures of theological liberalism during both World Wars -- blessing tanks for Kaiser Wilhelm in 1914 and letting Nazism run rampant in the 1930s. Consider the failure of fundamentalism in the Jim Crow era, shunning the long march towards freedom and reconciliation.

When the Church shuns its grand narrative, when it shuns true Christian identity as the Body of Christ for the world, it yields room to other, far more sinister stories to creep in.

Praise be to God for the faithful remnant in every age that has called the Church to repentance and continued to proclaim the Gospel of our Risen Lord.

The Church survived under the thumb of Rome. It endured Nazi Germany. It led the way forward through the Civil Rights movement. Too many fell away during these times; too many failed. But even while so many of us failed, the Church kept doing the work that God has called us for. Now, in this age, we face a similar choice: we can fail or we keep re-telling and re-living the same story that has ushered us through the ages.

White nationalism and racism can be well-dressed, either in Hugo Boss or a three-piece suit. It can co-opt beauty for use as propaganda. It's amazing what depravity can be hidden beneath a thin veneer.

But by the grace of God, the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church will prevail. Our liturgies will prevail because God is present in them. The Body of Christ will be resplendent in our baptismal garb. And at the fullness of time, at the end of the age, Christ's story will win the day.

Now, kindred, let us go out and tell the world the Good News as we live into the story that God has been telling from the foundation of the world.

Wake-Up Call: Our Theological Problem

On Monday, I wrote about the failure of the mainline denominations in standing up against the evils of racism, xenophobia, misogyny, and greed that put Donald Trump on the ballot and will put him in the White House come January.

Philadelphia seminarian Lenny Duncan takes the ELCA to task for our failures. In taking a magnifying glass to the electoral map, he points out:

I’m not surprised because as a Black man I have lived in Donald Trump’s America since I was a child. I have been preparing for Tuesday since I taught myself to read.
A mantra I often use in regards to my work with the #decolonizelutheranism movement is that “the problem is not sociological, it is theological.” I stand by that now.
Here is your wake-up call.
The area’s that won this demagogue the day were overwhelmingly ELCA Lutheran strongholds. The path to 270 and beyond marched right through the heart of the Augsburg Confessions and wore the red cover of an ELW as it marched up to the voting booth. Don’t believe me? Take a look at the crumbled “blue firewall.”

But Christ is ever at work in the world. God's Kingdom is continuing to erupt into the cosmos, despite the Church's repeated failures. This beloved seminarian points out that the Church does its best work when we're on the margins of society:

The hope. Where is the hope for us than?
The church has always flourished when it was counter cultural. When it was in resistance to the empire.
The hope is that you are seeing America clearly for the first time in a long time. The hope is that same brown man who was executed stood up three days later and shifted the entire universe.
The hope is you were anointed, called to a time such as this. Republics have fallen. Kings pass away.
Empires crumble. The church has stood throughout it all. The first step is we need to challenge what it means to be a Christian and a Christian leader. The next is we organize, we resist. Lastly we need each other so desperately right now. People gather in community because when we gather in the name of God something deep down inside each and every one of us gets fixed. Set right and renewed. 

Read his full article here.

Confiteor: Our Lack of Prophetic Imagination

It didn't take long for the "Not My President" signs to change hands again, but in the wake of President-elect's racist and violent campaign rhetoric, these signs take on a new significance.

There's only one problem with them: He is our president-elect. He was nominated in accordance with the rules of the Republican Party and elected under the laws of our nation. We should have and could have stopped him from taking office. We had our chance. It's gone now.

We have all failed.

A lot of ink has already been spilled discussing the roll of the Religious Right in President-elect Trump's ascendancy. Articles proclaimed Trump's campaign as the dying gasp of the old Reagan-era marriage between Fundamentalists and the GOP. The second generation of the "Moral Majority" revealed that they don't actually care about sexual ethics, race, or even free trade; instead, they crave proximity to power. Ralph Reed demonstrated the limits of "faith and freedom" -- which apparently only extends to white fundamentalists. Cowards like Wayne Grudem sold out their faith in the name of the Supreme Court and a false equivalency that makes Planned Parenthood more terrifying than a ban on Muslims. After years of yelling about the importance of sexual ethics, Albert Mohler remained mostly mum -- though he paid lip service by linking Donald Trump and Bill Clinton. Only Russell Moore stood firm in opposing the GOP's candidate.

There is no need to rehash those articles -- though it might prove to be cathartic.

Instead, I'm interested in the Mainline. Nobody writes about us much. And why should they? From a numerical perspective, we're in decline. We're not nearly as vocal about our politics. We are not often bold.

But the election was our failing, too.

Donald Trump was not elected by Southern Baptists, the PCA, and the Missouri Synod alone.
He was elected by members of the ELCA, CBF, and PC(USA). He was elected by United Methodists and Episcopalians.

I know for a fact that many in our pews cast their ballots for the president-elect.
The xenophobia and Islamophobia of the campaign are alive and well in our pews.
The sexism of the campaign thrives, even among our call committees.
Blind eyes were turned in the interest of some ill-defined sense of "greatness."

This is our fault, our fault, our own most grievous fault.
We have sinned, in word, thought, and deed. By what we have done and failed to do.

We have failed to preach prophetically about the horrors of racial discrimination and sexism.
We have failed to welcome in the resident alien.
We have failed to confess our own greed.
We have failed to call the world to repentance and newness of life.
We have talked about "the messiness of our world" rather than sin and evil.
We have given in to the world's definition of greatness as a numbers game.
We have ceded our authority, preaching about "emotional vulnerability" rather than Christ crucified and resurrected.
We have valued programs over ministry.
We have been aphoristic rather than apostolic.

We have failed because we have preached Brene Brown rather than the Triune God.
We have failed because we lack the prophetic imagination to see the Church as the Body of Christ at work in the world.
We have failed because we have not been an in-breaking of the Kingdom of God.
At the end of the day, we have failed because the Holy Spirit was moving among us, inspiring us to preach a radical Gospel, and we ignored Her.

Kyrie eleison.
Christie eleison.
Kyrie eleison.

Now, go in peace. Serve the Lord.

Light the Paschal Candle and Wear White: Funerals, Resurrection, and the "Little Easter"

I have done a poor job, in the past, of explaining the use of liturgically seasonal appointments at various seasons of the Church.

Take, for instance, the use of white vestments at a funeral. My immediate answer, in the past, has been that funerals build on the symbolism of Easter -- which is not specific enough.

As many are quick to point out, every Sunday is a "little Easter," so why don't we wear white every Sunday?

So allow me to be more specific:

Every Sunday is in fact a little Easter, the day on which the Church gathers to celebrate Christ's victory over Death and the grave. For this reason, we break our Lenten fast on Sundays. But various Sundays carry different themes -- be it the fire of the Holy Spirit, the blood of the martyrs, penitence, or God's victorious reign. The color of the vestments aids in communicating these themes -- which is exactly why liturgy nerds have drawn-out debates over the use of purple or blue vestments and paraments during Advent.

In the Church, we use white and gold to express Christ's triumphant glory on major feast days -- at the Incarnation, the Baptism of Our Lord, the Transfiguration, and throughout the entire fifty days of Easter.

At funerals, we hope in the Resurrection -- the ultimate display of God's glory -- and so we use white vestments. Even during Lent, when the Church dawns a penitential purple, puts a hold on weddings and baptisms, and fasts for forty days, we still don white for funerals. The hope of the Resurrection bursts through the Lenten season.

It's the same reason that we light the Paschal Candle at funerals and during the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. And, much like the Paschal Candle, some may reply by asking, "Well, if the theme is Resurrection, why not wear white every Sunday? Isn't every Sunday a little Easter?" In response, I refer you to my summary of Bp. Alexander's discussion of this point (found in full here):

[W]hile every Sunday is a "little Easter" and that the theology of the Resurrection permeates every Divine Service throughout the year regardless of seasonal and thematic overtones, that we still mark Easter proper with special distinction -- pre-Paschal fasting during Lent, the Triduum, the Vigil, extra acclamations, and the like. These distinctives set Easter apart as a sacred time among sacred times. Some of these markers (in this case, the Paschal candle) carries further into the rest of the year.

Just so, wearing white and gold vestments is one of those special distinctions that grabs the attention. It sets apart holy seasons, and to be sure, as we bury departed saints, we call special attention to Our Lord's triumph over the grave. Our funeral services point to Easter even more so than a weekly Service during ordinary time.

Now, of course, all of this can be chocked up to adiaphora. God isn't going to refuse the faithful departed entry into paradise if the altar frontal is green. St. Peter isn't watching through a telescope to ensure that the presbyter is wearing a white and gold stole. But let's not forget that the words we use, the symbols we adopt, the colors we wear do actually communicate something. So while white vestments are in fact non-essential, that does not make them unimportant.

"Always Refer to Your Baptism" -- Il Papa on Making Eucharist Together

In recent weeks, representatives from the ELCA and the US Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) put forward a bold declaration of points where we have come to agree on the Church, ministry, and the Eucharist. (For a more detailed summary of the process, consult the Catholic News Service article.) They recognize the differences that divide us -- women in ministry, full acceptance of LGBT persons, married priests and bishops, explanations of how Christ is present in the Bread and Wine -- but these differences are not what makes this document unique. Rather, it is the declaration that Catholics and Lutherans should be able to (occasionally) commune together.

The document, called "Declaration on the Way," is well worth the read and has made quite a splash within ecclesial circles -- along the same lines of the "Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification," the groundbreaking work released in 1999. "Declaration on the Way" still has a long way to go. While the ELCA bishops have approved it, their decision is not binding. Rather, it will go before our Churchwide Assembly in 2016. From there, it will go to the Lutheran World Federation, the worldwide communion of independent Lutheran denominations. Likewise, same document will go before the entire USCCB for a vote on whether or not to send the proposal to Rome, where it would be considered by the Vatican's group on ecumenical relations. It's a long way to go, to be sure. The schism between Augsburg and Rome is not yet healed.

The en via, though, recognizes a central fact about the Eucharist: While it is a sign of ecclesial unity, it is also the means by which we are gracefully united into the Body of Christ. The Eucharist upholds our baptismal unity.

And Pope Francis has taken up this issue himself in recent weeks. He attended Vespers at the Lutheran parish in Rome, and in doing so, encouraged Lutherans and Catholics to forgive each other for the horrible persecutions they have perpetrated against each other and to work together. In and of itself, this is a marked shift from the pre-Vatican II church, but not unexpected from this Pope, who has met with the female presiding bishop of the ELCA and has worshiped alongside the Archbishop of Canterbury.

And then a woman asked a question. She and her husband are in a mixed Lutheran/Catholic marriage, and she wanted to know if she would ever be allowed to share the Eucharist with her full family. The Pope's response is worth quoting at length, as found at Whispers in the Loggia:

I think of how the Lord told us when he gave us this mandatumto “do this in memory of me,” and when we share the Lord’s Supper, we recall and we imitate the same as the Lord. And there will be the Lord’s Supper in the final banquet in the new Jerusalem – it’ll be there! But that will be the last one… in the meantime, I ask myself and don’t know how to respond – what you’re asking me, I ask myself the question. To share the Lord’s banquet: is it the goal of the path or is it the viaticum [etym. “to accompany you on the journey”] for walking together? I leave that question to the theologians and those who understand.

It’s true that in a certain sense, to share means that there aren’t differences between us, that we have the same doctrine – underscoring that word, a difficult word to understand. But I ask myself: but don’t we have the same Baptism? If we have the same Baptism, shouldn’t we be walking together? And you’re a witness of a likewise profound journey, a journey of marriage: itself a journey of family and human love and of a shared faith, no? We have the same Baptism.

...
I can only respond to your question with a question: what can I do with my husband that the Lord’s Supper might accompany me on my path? It’s a problem that each must answer [for themselves], but a pastor-friend once told me that “We believe that the Lord is present there, he is present” – you believe that the Lord is present. And what's the difference? There are explanations, interpretations, but life is bigger than explanations and interpretations. Always refer back to your baptism – one faith, one baptism, one Lord: this Paul tells us; and then consequences come later.

I would never dare to give permission to do this, because it’s not my own competence. One baptism, one Lord, one faith. Talk to the Lord and then go forward. [Pauses] And I wouldn't dare – I don’t dare say anything more.

Video of his response from the Catholic News Service:

The Pope's response reminds me of the ELCA's presiding bishop when I had the chance to ask her about our relationship with Rome this summer:

That is a scandal....The Reformation needed to happen, but we should not celebrate when the Church is fractured....With Christ, all things are possible....I'm not going to put a date on it, but it is our Lord's will.

A time is coming at this, the end of the age, when we will gather together and join the unending hosts of heaven in celebrating our Lord's presence among us.

Thanks be to God.

- - -

Post-Script: As an aside, Il Papa addressed the gathering of the Catholic Church in Italy with the following words and a hat-tip to the Lutheran tradition:

"The reform of the church then, and the church is semper reformanda ... does not end in the umpteenth plan to change structures," he continued. "It means instead grafting yourself to and rooting yourself in Christ, leaving yourself to be guided by the Spirit -- so that all will be possible with genius and creativity."