Third Sunday of Easter, rcl yr a, 2023
ACTS 2:14A, 36-41; PSALM 116:1-3, 10-17; 1 PETER 1:17-23; LUKE 24:13-35
he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread
you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit
I will be off to Canterbury in June, and while it will be really nice to be there, it will be part of an intense few days of work as a member of the International Pentecostal-Anglican Commission—where a small handful of Anglicans from different parts of the world will meet with a small handful of Pentecostals from different parts of the world to take part in some ecumenical dialogue. It’s a five-year project that is intended to offer, by the end, a shared statement on what Anglicans and Pentecostals can agree on about holiness.
Now I want to say that a small number of Anglicans think about holiness a lot, and a lot of Anglicans don’t think about holiness at all, but I’m guessing that’s not quite true. My guess is that a lot of Anglicans do think about holiness—it’s just that we just don’t imagine that holiness simply means purity, sexual or otherwise. I imagine a whole lot of us think regularly about holiness, at least if I were to put it this way: that God sets us aside for his service, and works at our personal transformation, in order that we would grow over time into Christ’s own likeness.
We might not have the words for it, but I see so many of you—day-by-day, week-by-week, year-by-year—growing in this way, growing into Christ’s likeness, and I see so many of you—day-by-day, week-by-week, year-by-year—struggle with the ways we wish we were transformed into Christ’s likeness, that I feel confident that holiness is something with which we grapple. We know that our anger, and our selfishness, our participation in structures of injustice, or in our failures to love, these sorts of things don’t feel right to us, and we hope for more; and I see in so many of you things you don’t see in yourselves, like your kindness, your self-offering, your welcome to strangers, your extraordinary patience with difficult people in your lives, that even if you can’t see it, I sure can—I can see your growth in holiness.
Now all this may or may not help when I sit down with those other Anglicans and my new Pentecostal friends in June. But I do come bearing some good news for those of us who struggle spiritually with what we think we should be, and how we see ourselves. And that good news is that God is already at work in your life, making you holy, because that’s how holiness works—God gives us a share in his own holiness, and not because we earn it, or suffer enough to get it, or pray hard enough for it—we are made holy by God, set apart for his service and made more and more like Christ, primarily through the sacraments—that is, we are made holy by God primarily in what God does for us, before we do anything for God.
There’s a good case to be made that the meal shared in that room in Emmaus was one of the first celebrations of the Eucharist—the first recorded meal much like the one we are celebrating today. Jesus has already shared the Last Supper with the apostles—this happens before his crucifixion, and it’s where Jesus gives us the command, as he gives thanks, to take the wine and divide it, and to do the same with the bread:“Take this,” says Jesus, and “do this,” to remember him by taking the bread which is his body, and drinking the wine that is his blood. And we will hear me recite those words in a moment—the “words of institution,” and we will call to mind that Jesus not only commands us to “do this,” and to “take this,” but that Jesus also says “this is my body,” and “this is my blood.”
But as the Eucharistic Prayer proceeds, it doesn’t simply remind us of Jesus’s words at the Last Supper. We are reminded that we are thankful: “We give thanks to you, Lord our God …” We are reminded about what it is we are thankful for, as we call to mind the ways God has already acted: “We give thanks to you, Lord our God for the goodness and love you have made known to us in creation; in calling Israel to be your people; in your Word spoken through the prophets; and above all in the Word made flesh, Jesus your Son.” After a bit more on Jesus’s work in particular, then we hear Jesus’s words from the Last Supper.
But it’s what’s next in the prayer that will take us on a really big step into what comes after the Lord’s Supper, and what comes after the crucifixion: and that’s the Holy Spirit.
We hear a good bit about the Holy Spirit in our reading from Acts. Peter, the disciple whose faith in Jesus wavered so much that he denied Jesus, Peter, the disciple whose faith in Jesus wavered so much that he ran away, this Peter now speaks with confidence, the confidence that comes from Jesus welcoming him back into his circle of friends, despite the fact that Peter wavered and ran; Peter now preaches with confidence to those who were “cut to the heart” for their part in Jesus’s crucifixion. Even those who killed Jesus, according to the Peter who abandoned Jesus, can be restored, can be forgiven. Peter says, “be baptized.” The gift of the Holy Spirit, according to Peter, is given in baptism.
This is the same Holy Spirit that descended on Jesus when he was baptized, now descends upon us in our baptism. In baptism, much like Jesus was anointed for God’s purposes, by the gift of the Holy Spirit, we are made holy, also set aside for God’s purposes. I may have been ordained for particular purposes; but we have all been made part of Christ’s own Royal Priesthood by the gift of the Holy Spirit in baptism, a Holy Spirit given that we might exercise our own particular gifts—that is, you are made a minister in the House of the Lord, each of us, from Lincoln all the way to Mindy. By God’s gift of the Holy Spirit in baptism, you are already made holy, set aside for God.
In the Eucharist, however, we speak a bit differently about the work of the Holy Spirit. By your baptism you have already received the gift of the Holy Spirit, and by that you have been made holy. In the Eucharist, though, we pray that God would send the Holy Spirit in two ways: “We pray you, gracious God, to send your Holy Spirit upon these gifts, that they may be the sacrament of the body of Christ and his blood of the new covenant.” That is, we ask the Holy Spirit to keep the promise made at the Last Supper, that indeed the bread and wine would be the sacrament of his body and his blood.
But then we do something that is most important for what I’m getting at today: we invite the Holy Spirit to sanctify us through unity to Jesus in the sacrament: “Unite us to your Son in his sacrifice, that we, made acceptable in him, may be sanctified by the Holy Spirit.” To be sanctified is a way to speak of being made holy. (This is why some of us make the sign of the cross at this point in the Eucharistic Prayer.)
And so, by baptism we are made holy, set aside for God by the gift of the Holy Spirit, in the eucharist we grow in that holiness, we grow in our likeness to Christ, by the ongoing work of that same Holy Spirit.
And here’s where we would perhaps be able to see the importance of that meal shared in the room in Emmaus. That was a meal, a breaking of bread, that made Jesus known to those who ate; it was a meal that began with a telling of the good things God had done, through the promise of the prophets, and then to the necessity of the sacrifice made on the cross. In the breaking of bread those disciples remembered how their heart burned as they were reminded of God’s work in history, and of God’s work in Jesus.
But it was in this meal that Jesus, the resurrected Jesus is made known to the disciples, a knowing that is more than factual knowledge, more like the way we would grow in trust of a trustworthy friend, but a growing in a kind of knowing that is even more than that, a knowing, a trusting, an offering and a gift that changes you—that makes you more like Jesus.
And so it may feel like we make no headway in our sanctification, that our work is fruitless. And that’s because this is probably partly true. Though our growth in holiness, our growth in Christ’s likeness, does take a certain sort of commitment—even to get up this morning, and to make it here!
But be of good heart: the Holy Spirit is not taken. The Holy Spirit is given. Given in your baptism, when you were set aside for the house of the Lord; and given now again in the eucharist, where the Holy Spirit will take hold of you, and draw you ever closer to God in Christ, and into his likeness.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.