Category: Year A

Is it by chance that we celebrate the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ on the Sunday immediately following the feast of the Trinity? Or maybe there is something more to it?

There is a famous icon written by the Russian iconographer Andrei Rublev. It is known as the icon of the Trinity. The icon’s original title was, and in fact still is, known as “The Hospitality of Abraham” and was written in 1411. The story of Abraham and Sarah’s generous hospitality to three visitors who came to them by the oaks of Mamre is told in Genesis 18.

An examination of this icon suggests (to me at least) that there is an intimate relationship between the Trinity and Eucharist. As the icon is written the three persons are seated around a table in an attitude of harmony and peace; the very lines of the icon create a circle within which the unity of the persons, the manner of their presence to one another, is visible. At the focal point of the icon there is a cup between them on the table. It is a wonderful use of symbol and suggestion. The Trinity hints at the Eucharist. It is as if the divine persons were saying: be one with one another as we are one. (See John 17:21) To make the invitation even clearer, there is an empty place at the table.

We are being invited and drawn into the inner life of the Trinity, to sit at that empty place at God’s table. Jesus is the way; the Spirit is the inner urge to move that way. “No one can come to the Father unless the Father draw them” (Jn 6:44). Commenting on this in the fifth century, St Augustine wrote: “He did not say lead, but draw. This ‘violence’ is done to the heart, not to the body…. Believe and you come; love and you are drawn”.

Have you ever gone for a walk early in the morning and noticed the leaves and flowers with a gentle covering of moisture on them? I am sure it didn’t rain during the night!

Or, you have been for a walk along the beach on an early summer morning and paused to sit awhile and need to wipe a gentle layer of dampness off the seat?

In the forest of early morning, there is the sound of a persistent drip!

It is called dewfall.

Each evening, the earth cools, and the moisture in the atmosphere transforms into condensation, forming the dew that will cover the ground,

The dew manages to reach each and every blade of grass, piece of clover, twig, sleeping caterpillar, car, and item left out on the clothesline, dead leaf, bottle cap, pebble and furled up fern that happens to be outdoors — every single one, for miles and miles.  All those tiny drops!  If it’s there, the dew is going to cover it.

In lands prone to aridity, the morning dew is a vital gift for the agricultural cycle, especially in the hot summer months. For them, it stood for cleansing, renewal and regeneration.

In our Scriptures, “like the dewfall” is a powerful image. We find it in psalms and prophecies and prayers of blessing.

In the prophet Hosea, we read, “God spoke through Hosea: “I will heal their defection, I will love them freely; for my wrath is turned away from them. I will be like the dew for Israel: He shall blossom like the lily” (Hos. 14:5-6).

In Eucharistic Prayer II, at the moment known as “The Epiclesis”, the presider prayers:

“Make holy, therefore, these gifts, we pray, by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall.”

Traditionally we have strong, powerful images for the Holy Spirit and for Pentecost, eg wind and tongues of fire.

This Pentecost, I invite into an alternate image of the Holy Spirit – dewfall.

The Spirit, as the dewfall, arrives in a very quiet, unseen, mysterious unobtrusive, indiscriminate, and gentle way, Like the natural dew, the Spirit reaches everywhere, everything, and everyone.

Tonight, as the earth cools and the moisture in the atmosphere transforms into condensation, forming the dew that will cover the ground, let us pray that God’s Spirit rest on us as gentle dewfall.

Have you ever walked early in the morning and noticed the leaves and flowers with gentle moisture covering them?

I am sure it didn’t rain during the night!

Or, you have been for a walk along the beach on an early summer morning and paused to sit awhile and need to wipe a gentle layer of dampness off the seat?

In the early morning forest, there is the sound of a persistent drip!

It is called dewfall.

Each evening, the earth cools, and the moisture in the atmosphere transforms into condensation, forming the dew that will cover the ground,

The dew manages to reach each and every blade of grass, piece of clover, twig, sleeping caterpillar, car, item left out on the clothesline, dead leaf, bottle cap, pebble and furled-up fern that happens to be outdoors — every single one, for miles and miles.

All those tiny drops!

If it’s there, the dew is going to cover it.

In lands prone to aridity, the morning dew is a vital gift for the agricultural cycle, especially in the hot summer months. For them, it stood for cleansing, renewal and regeneration.

In our Scriptures, “like the dewfall” is a powerful image. We find it in psalms and prophecies and prayers of blessing.

In the prophet Hosea we read, “God spoke through Hosea: “I will heal their defection, I will love them freely; for my wrath is turned away from them. I will be like the dew for Israel: He shall blossom like the lily” (Hos. 14:5-6).

In Eucharistic Prayer II, at the moment known as “The Epiclesis”, the presider prayers:

“Make holy, therefore, these gifts, we pray, by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall.”

Traditionally we have strong, powerful images for the Holy Spirit and for Pentecost, eg wind and tongues of fire.

We are invited into an alternate image of the Holy Spirit – dewfall.

The Spirit, as the dewfall, arrives in a very quiet, unseen, mysterious unobtrusive, indiscriminate, and gentle way,

Tonight, as the earth cools and the moisture in the atmosphere transforms into condensation, forming the dew that will cover the ground, let us pray that God’s Spirit rest on us as gentle dewfall.

This Sunday Churches celebrate the feast of the Ascension, the return of Jesus to immediacy and intimacy with his Father. A reflection on this feast:

If you were to open the Cambridge Dictionary and look at the entry for ‘step into somebody’s shoes’, the entry states, “to take someone’s place, often by doing the job they have just left.”

The Amandus Church in Freiberg Germany is a late Gothic fortified former village church. Situated on a hill above the old village centre, it is notable for a diversity of architectural styles and for its paintings and organ. One such painting is by the Czech artist, Hans Stiegler.

The north gallery of the Church is dominated by a painting titled, ‘Resurrection of Jesus and Ascension’.  On first inspection the painting appears like many other ‘Ascension’ paintings with the faithful followers of Jesus gazing upwards as Jesus begins to leave this earth.

However, a closer look reveals that Jesus has left his sandals behind! Might I suggest that the feast we celebrate today is as much about us as it is about Jesus.

As persons committed to following in the footsteps of Jesus the Christ, we are called (maybe even challenged!) not to look up, rather to look down!.

The shoes have been left behind, in order that we may ‘take someone’s place, often by doing the job they have just left’.

And, surprise, surprise, one size fits all!

A note of caution, these shoes have a mind of their own and might well take you to places and persons you would rather not go, e.g. tax collectors, the poor, the needy, the forgotten, persons with a physical or psychological disability; you may be taken to the hospital, the prison, the street corner.