Back to the Future: Eucharist and Eschatology
by Daniell Hamby
It might seem an arcane thing to reflect in 2008 on older bits of the Eucharistic Canon, especially something as common-place as the Lamb of God, sometimes called Agnus Dei. Overhearing a conversation recently, I was reminded of an ongoing curiosity I have about that little snippet of text, as well as it’s place in a Sunday liturgy.
The curiosity has to do with the word “sins.” Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Hummm. Are those the multiple sins of omission or commission that we are singing about? The “sins we do, and are done on our behalf” as one of the new eucharistic formulae put it? Or is the “sin” that is taken away by the Lamb of God the chasm, the distance between human kind and the God who created us? When we ask the Lamb of God to take away the “sins” of the world, do we hearken to that scene when John the Gospel writer has Jesus coming over the crown of the hill, and John the Baptist pointing to him and saying: “Behold the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world?” Maybe a little picky, maybe a little arcane, but maybe, also an entry point into a larger conversation.
In an overheard conversation this summer I heard someone say (of the Agnus Dei) that it is not primarily a penitential snippet of liturgical text. By the time we get to it, we have been plenty penitential! And, if we happen to be praying Rite I, we will be even more penitential in just a few seconds, as we consider the “crumbs and dogs” under the table. No, said the one overheard, the Agnus is about eschatology. It is about the future. It is about hope. It is about the primary thing God does with and for us at Eucharist to prepare us for the great banquet at the end of time, when we gather with everyone who has come before us, and those who come after, at the table prepared from the beginning of time.
Without belaboring the historical trajectories of this little theological gem, the Lamb of God came to us as a gift from the early church, and was ensconced in the liturgy by the seventh century. It was originally sung by an Archdeacon, as the celebrant made communion. There was no doubt that the intent was to call attention to the eschatological nature of the Eucharist, the hope of the baptized. The dream God has for the cosmos. A few centuries later the theology would shift, and the meaning became a continuation of the penitential character of the liturgy. But at it’s beginning, it was about what God has prepared for us: the object of which, then, is not “taking away sin,” but granting us peace. Donna nobis pacem. God knows we need that.
Several weeks ago, at the onset of the present financial quagmire, there was a great deal of talk – some of it ’ biblical’ in character – about what it all meant. One commentator asked “is this armageddon?” Armageddon, indeed. The loose talk amongst some parts of the church these days about being left behind, the rapture (and, no you can not have my car), the anti Christ and the thousand years, all of it plays into the fear mongering that is entirely too present in our world. In the face of the fear, eschatology takes on a foreboding, anxious tone which I do not believe is what the mothers and fathers of the faith, nor the intent of God, have in mind.
The eschaton, when God interrupts, when God surrounds, when God invites, when God includes, when God embraces, when God makes whole is the very thing our weekly Eucharist anticipates. In the fleeting seconds as we stand with out reached palms, and expectant taste buds, perhaps we remember our shortcomings and bad choices, our short sightedness. But that is a fleeting second. I wonder if it might help were we to remember this little trope called the Lamb of God. Not because of the “takes away the sin” part, but because of the “grant us peace” part. The result, then is not fear, but seeking those places where God is already at work, feeding hungry mouths, housing homeless people, caring for lonely souls, and confronting the powers and principalities that denigrate the creation which God already has called Good.
It’s just a thought. But maybe a thought about hope in a time when hope is desperately needed. And a call to engage with the God who simply asks us to be sons and daughters, sisters and brothers.
Daniell Hamby is Rector of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Yardley, PA
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