Morning Eucharist

Morning Eucharist creates space for grace
Thursday morning in St George’s Cathedral; at 7h15 I was again able to celebrate the Eucharist. It has become part of my life here in Cape Town for much of the time since we came here again in 2001 (apart from 2004 and 2005 when we were back in Sweden).
In a way this is not so much to talk about; it is an integral part of my life, but having been away for more than two months it struck me this morning that this is indeed far more than a routine. It is an encounter with the ground of my being that creates space for grace.
Space here means physical space but even more so space as time. First, it is ‘the people’s cathedral’ which shows in the coming and going of people all the time. Most of those who come in do it for their own personal prayers. The cathedral is a physical space that welcomes prayer and meditation. It is assumed and understood that that’s what is supposed to take place. At the same time there is this friendly atmosphere where one easily greets one another even while kneeling.
It is even more so, at least for me, a question of space in the form of time. I am allowed to start my day in this way and a ‘long’ space lies in front of me for free, unutilized. This is one way for God to show me grace.
However, just to enter this people’s cathedral for private devotion would not be enough for me unless it is in combination with a corporate liturgical act. To celebrate the Eucharist a morning like this is an experience that hardly can be described properly. It is about entering a sharing and ministry that Jesus Christ once began. It is an action on basis of Jesus’ words, himself having taken bread in his hands: “this is my body”. This physical act of breaking a small piece of bread in the early morning has an incredible significance for the world. It means that Jesus words and acts were not in vain. It means that the outgoing love and grace that were one with Christ’s life can continue to flow.
As it happened, the gospel reading for the day was totally in line with this basic action. In Matthew 21.21-35 we read about forgiveness that should be given generously. The parable of the debtor servant says it all. The servant’s debts were all cancelled while the servant himself forced his fellow servant to pay to the last cent what he owed. The message in my context is clear. The real presence of Christ in the Eucharist makes his grace towards us real just there and then. The breaking of bread is a guarantee that this grace is not just a feeling without commitments but a grace that goes into action in a broken world. At the same time Jesus’ parable tells about that rupture that perhaps is the most significant and sad thing about much of our worship: the grace that we may experience in the liturgical setting is not conveyed in the next step, which is my dealing with my neighbour. We see worship rendered useless and harmless.
The text reading was thus in line with the Eucharist itself. Having received such a surprising and overwhelming grace an ordinary Thursday morning must somehow set the tone for the rest of the day. The morning space for further reflection would tell me that there is hope for this world, even South Africa. It would allow me to think with generosity about people I am about to meet and tasks that I will be challenged to perform.
Such a morning the liturgy does not end suddenly. It continues. But the world had already entered the liturgical sphere. We had shared bread and wine, baked and fermented in the region. We had prayed for Africa and for Aung San Suu Kyi, the human rights activist who again is under house arrest in Burma. But at the same time, the rest of the day in the various tasks at hand, wherever I would go, would be a continued liturgy, a day fully enfolded in God’s hand.