A Community of Song (2)

When we sing together, each voice provides the setting for every other; each is the room in which every other dwells, even as each dwells in the room provided by all the others. The sopranos provide a house in which the basses dwell, and the basses lay a foundation for an aural space within which other voices live, move, and have their being. The sounds of the whole choir penetrate each singer, even as the singers inhabit the sound they produce. Voices resound and circle back, so that the sounds that go out turn back to fill the singers’ souls. Music is a Möbius strip, where inside and outside exist on a continuum, and music making is the form of mutually indwelling society, all sweetly singing together.

—Peter Leithart, Traces of the Trinity, 95-96

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel! (3)

We should think of the Eucharist not so much as Christmas—as if the Son were born again in bread—but think about it instead in terms of Advent. This table marks a triple Advent: It celebrates the past coming of the Lord; it is the coming of the Lord; and it looks ahead to the coming of the Lord. We commemorate the life, death and resurrection of Jesus; we feed on Him by the Spirit; we proclaim the Lord’s death until He come.

When we view it as an Advent meal, we see that this Supper is about Jesus’ absence as well as His presence; it’s about the future as well as the present. It is a present feast, a feast we celebrate because the Lord has come. But it is not yet a full banquet, because the Lord is still to come. [1 Corinthians 11:26]

—Peter Leithart

Pentecost and the Church (5)

“For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things?” (2 Corinthians 2:15-16)

We aren’t the fragrance of Christ to God in ourselves. In ourselves, we carry the smell of death. But God has turned us into aromatic sacrifices through His Son and Spirit. The Spirit’s descent at Pentecost made each of the disciples a burning altar. Salted with the fire of the Spirit, we become sacrifices pleasing to God.

—Peter Leithart

Emmanuel! (27)

“And the Word became flesh. . . . [Jesus said] My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in Him.” John 1:14; 6:55-56)

The Eternal Son took on human nature, but more than that, took on flesh, dilapidated human nature, so that He could restore it. He entered fully into the world of sin and death so that He could bring life and righteousness. Light entered the darkness so that darkness could be turned to light.

And now Jesus tells us that this flesh that He took on has become food, food that gives life, food that binds Him to us and us to Him. The bread on this table is not another incarnation of Jesus. It would be a sin, and a grievous one, if we were to bow down and worship this bread in the way the wise men bowed down to worship the infant Jesus. But through this bread we do feed on Jesus, the living and life-giving Incarnate Son of God.

Jesus is the bread that came down from heaven: He who eats and drinks of Jesus has eternal life, and Jesus will raise you up on the last day.

—Peter Leithart (blogpost)

Emmanuel! (16)

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)

God doesn’t need the incarnation any more than He needs the world. He would be the same infinitely joyful, infinitely lively and infinitely satisfied God if we had never existed and if Jesus had never been born.

God doesn’t need the incarnation, but the incarnation is not alien to God. God is boundlessly good, with a goodness that is infinite love. He is a ring of self-giving love from Father to Spirit to Son to Spirit to Father. Philanthropy—love for humans—comes naturally to the Triune God, the fitting expression of the goodness God is.

His Triune goodness is displayed in His willingness to become flesh and “mingle” with us (Nyssa). . . . Our good is to mingle with Him.

—Peter Leithart (blog post)

Worship in Revelation (16)

In Revelation, after harlot Jerusalem falls, angels issue two suppers: One is an invitation to the birds of the heavens to eat the flesh of kings and the flesh of commanders and the flesh of mighty men and the flesh of horses and of those who sit on them and the flesh of all men, both free men and slaves. The other is the invitation to the saints to the marriage supper of the Lamb. The two meals are inseparable, and they point to the two alternative destinies for human beings: We are either eaten and consumed in the wrath of God, or we are invited to consume bread and wine at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

—Peter Leithart

Advent Supper

We should not think of the Eucharist not so much as Christmas—as if the Son were born again in bread—but instead think about it instead in terms of Advent. This table marks a triple Advent: It celebrates the past coming of the Lord; it is the coming of the Lord; and it looks ahead to the coming of the Lord. We commemorate the life, death and resurrection of Jesus; we feed on Him by the Spirit; we proclaim the Lord’s death until He come.

When we view it as an Advent meal, we see that this Supper is about Jesus’ absence as well as His presence; it’s about the future as well as the present. It is a present feast, a feast we celebrate because the Lord has come. But it is not yet a full banquet, because the Lord is still to come.

—Peter Leithart

REFORMATION 500: Returning Worship to the People

One of the great, and often ignored, contributions of the Reformation was to return worship to the people. Somehow, many Protestants have got the idea that prayer books, with written prayers, responsive readings, creeds and the like are Roman Catholic and medieval. Nothing could be further from the truth. Prayer books were a product of the Reformation and they were written so that the congregation could participate fully in the act of worship.

—Peter Leithart, “Transforming Worship” Foundations 38 (Spring ’97):30

REFORMATION 500: How We Worship

It is equally a fundamental truth of Scripture that we are how we worship. The kind of worship the church engages in shapes the kind of community she becomes and forms the character of individuals who make up the community. This was one of the great insights of the Reformation, for the Reformers were not contesting outright idolatry but wrong worship of the true God. They were struggling not about who was worshipped, for all agreed on that question; they gave their lives to a struggle about how Christians are to worship.

Worship, the Reformers insisted, had to be pure in order to be pleasing to God, and by “pure” worship they meant, first, worship that conformed to Scripture and, second, worship that arose from a genuine devotion to the Lord. [i.e., “worship in spirit and truth,” John 4:23-24]

—Peter Leithart, “Transforming Worship,” Foundations 38 (Spring ’97):27

Come to the Table 9

With the current situation of the American church in mind, we can say the following: frequent eating and drinking at the Lord’s table will inoculate the church against the Gnosticism of modern Christianity (not to mention trendy spiritualisms) that would reduce religion to a private, inner, purely “spiritual” experience; a church whose central religious rite includes baked goods is being trained in proper dominion over creation and will refuse resurgent nature worship in both its religious and political guises; a church that celebrates a feast of wine is being formed into a joyful community that contests the equation of Christian seriousness with prudishness; a church that celebrates the communal meal is bound into one body and will resist the corrosive individualism of modern culture that has too often invaded the church; a church that shares bread at the Lord’s table is learning the virtues of generosity and humility; a church that proclaims the Lord’s sacrificial death in the Supper is exercising itself in self-sacrifice and becoming immune to the lure of self-fulfillment. Not automatically, but in the context of biblical teaching and a robust community life, the skills and virtues practiced at the Lord’s table will spill over to fill the whole church with a eucharistic ethos. In short, the Supper exercises the church in the protocols of life in the presence of God.

—Peter J. Leithart, “The Way Things Really Ought to Be: Eucharist, Eschatology and Culture” Westminster Theological Journal 59 (1997):176

Come to the Table 3

In New Covenant worship, the peace offering is fulfilled in the Lord’s Supper, and these passages indicate that song during the celebration of the Lord’s Supper is appropriate and good. Much Eucharistic music, however, is far too slow, meditative, and melancholy, contributing powerfully to a Eucharistic piety that treats the Supper as “tomb” rather than “table.” Meditative music might occasionally be used at the Supper, but I believe that vigorous and triumphal music is far more appropriate. The Supper is a victory meal, memorializing the death that vanquished the powers and led captivity captive. It is not a moment to wallow in sorrow, but a moment to celebrate Christ the Victor.

—Peter J. Leithart, From Silence to Song: The Davidic Liturgical Revolution, 128

Mingled with Us

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

God doesn’t need the incarnation any more than He needs the world. He would be the same infinitely joyful, infinitely lively and infinitely satisfied God if we had never existed and if Jesus had never been born.

God doesn’t need the incarnation, but the incarnation is not alien to God. God is boundlessly good, with a goodness that is infinite love. He is a ring of self-giving love from Father to Spirit to Son to Spirit to Father. Philanthropy —love for humans —comes naturally to the Triune God, the fitting expression of the goodness God is.

His Triune goodness is displayed in His willingness to become flesh and “mingle” with us (Gregory of Nyssa).

Our good is to mingle with Him.  He has become one spirit with us; our good is to be one spirit with Him.  He has united Himself with our flesh; our good is to be one body with Him.

—Peter J. Leithart, blog post on John 1:14 (peterleithart.com)

Another Comforter (3)

“I tell you the truth, it is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper shall not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him to you.” (John 16:7)

We’ve seen in the sermon that the ascension means that Jesus is truly absent from us. He has been glorified and exalted into heaven, He has gone to the Father, He has gone away. As His disciples, we are called to witness faithfully, in the face of bullying and persecution, in His absence, in hope that we will meet Him when we are cast out of the synagogues.

But the ascension should never be detached from Pentecost. Jesus goes away, but in going away, He promises to send His Spirit. Jesus goes away, but at the same time assures His disciples that they will not be left orphans. He goes away, but says that He will come to us and be with us through His Spirit.

In 16:7, Jesus says it is for our good that He goes away, because unless He goes away the Spirit, the Paraklete, will not come. And it’s good for the Spirit to come, because through the Spirit Jesus’ disciples do greater works than He did. Because Jesus goes away, things are going to happen that could not happen when He was present.

During Jesus’ lifetime, He ate and drank frequently with the Twelve. He fed 5000 people on one occasion, and 4000 on another occasion. He had other meals and feasts throughout His ministry. But the sum total of people who ate and drank with Jesus during His lifetime would be somewhere in the thousands.

Now He has gone away, and the Spirit has come. Now Jesus is absent in the flesh, but present in the Spirit.  . . . Throughout the world, today, there are millions eating and drinking with Jesus, drawn from every tribe and tongue and nation. Jesus never did that. That could only be done when Jesus went away to His Father, and sent the Helper to be with us.

—Peter Leithart, “Eucharistic Meditation on John 16:7

Ascended on High! (3)

The key point of Ascension is not that the Son of God has begun to rule. The Son of God has, with the Father and Spirit, ruled all things since the beginning of things. The new thing that happened at the Ascension of Jesus is that the Incarnate Son begins to rule. There is a human being, a man, on the throne at the right hand of the Father, far above all authority; by the ascension, Jesus has fulfilled the original Adamic commission to rule the earth.

And we are in Him. Paul says that just as Jesus is seated in heavenly places, so also in Him we are seated in heavenly places.

—Peter Leithart, “Eucharistic Meditation on Luke 22:29,30