Today marks the Feast of Corpus Christi – or as the Church of England’s calendar puts it ’The Day of Thanksgiving for the Institution of Holy Communion (Corpus Christi)’. Since the beginnings of this observance in the thirteenth century, Christians around the world have celebrated the gift of the eucharist on the Thursday following Trinity Sunday. It is an occasion for us to give thanks for the ‘Sacrament of Unity’.

And yet, paradoxically, this sacrament of unity has often been the focus of dissent and conflict. Think of the many different names we use: the Lord’s Supper, Holy Communion, the Eucharist, the Mass. Each title offers a slightly different emphasis. When I worked at Westcott House, this particular festival was always an occasion I looked forward to with a certain sense of dread. There was almost always an argument about the content of the service and it was never particularly edifying: should there be a procession? Would there be Benediction? How long would it be before someone quoted Article 25 ‘The Sacraments were not ordained of Christ to be gazed upon, or to be carried about, but that we should duly use them’? Should attendance be compulsory for all members of the house? How ornate should the liturgy be…. incense, rose petals, or some other extravagance? In the end, we decided simply to join in with a celebration organised by the city centre parishes. It put an end to the squabbles, and by joining together with others in a joyful celebration, we discovered again the profound unity at the heart of this sacrament.For me, some of the most powerful moments in discovering the depth of this mystery have been not grand and ornate liturgical events but have often occurred in a more intimate setting: sharing in the eucharist in a clearing in King’s Canyon, a National Park in the United States, the silence broken by the background hum of insects, or in the little church of Aberdaron in North Wales, where R. S. Thomas was once the vicar, with the sound of the roar of the sea beyond the thick walls of the church. When I worked at Sheffield Cathedral, the members of the Cathedral Chapter used to go down for the ‘earlies’ as they were called, Mattins at 7.30am followed by the Eucharist in one of the little side chapels. The Cathedral was also the home of the Archer Project, a day centre for rough sleepers in the city. The services happened before the Project opened so some of the homeless clients would come to the service. It was always a bit chaotic in the morning. There was Irene, who always asked before receiving communion if you were a real priest. And there were people who worked in the centre of Sheffield, members of that loyal band of volunteer welcomers, the occasional student, the asylum seeker and refugee. And when we gathered at the altar, in spite of the chaos, none of it really mattered, because – for one sacred moment – we discovered there the living bread that satisfied all our hunger and all our need. And that was what mattered. In that simple celebration, there were no frills, not even a hymn, just the real deal. The veil was removed and we recognized Him in the breaking of the bread.

This evening we will join with Merton College in their celebration of Corpus Christi at 6.00pm. There will be music and another fine sermon from James Crockford. But if you want to attend a quieter, more reflective service, there is always the Eucharist each day (Monday to Friday) at 12.15pm. Come and join us!