CRA-A-ACK!

Of all the “phrases” in the BCP, perhaps the most poignant — the most perfect — isn’t a phrase at all, but a sound.

It is by no mistake that the most solemn moment of the most sacred ritual in the Christian tradition is itself the breaking of a moment of silence — a few brief seconds of quiet, broken by the distinct sound of a snap. It is the breaking of bread (or at least some tasteless, odorless, almost dimensionless facsimile of something we call bread).

Immediately following are the familiar words: “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us!”* and the congregation responds, “Therefore let us keep the feast.” (Alleluias optional.)

Why does this small fraction of a second seem to reach me so? The older I get, the more I am convinced that if there is any validity to this rather absurd notion that the great omnipotent Creator of the Cosmos chose this tiny speck of a galaxy to appear as an all-too vulnerable homo sapien, it is precisely in the very brokenness of “Christ Crucified.” Much as I’d like to think it could be some other way, it is only when we admit that we too are broken, torn, battered, and utterly helpless…helpless, say, as a convicted and condemned criminal enemy of the Roman Empire… that any real healing begins.

Much as I love the smell, taste and texture of homemade bread when it’s consecrated and shared as the Body of our Lord (when it is the tearing of a loaf more than the “breaking” of bread) I do miss that one irreplaceable, jarring, painful, sacred SNAP!

Let us keep the feast.

*NOTE: There is no exclamation point in the BCP, so I am taking some license here. No apologies, though. After all If there is any phrase in the entire lexicon of our liturgy that deserves some point of emphasis, this is the one. (OK, maybe “He is risen. The Lord is risen, indeed.” deserves some emphatic punctuation as well. I’ll look for it when the 1979 edition is replaced.)