The Restoration of Cain
One of the regular features of the celebration of the Eucharist in the Episcopal Church is the use of oblation bearers from the congregation to present the bread and wine from the people for use in the consecration. In my congregation we often chose someone who is celebrating a special event, such as having just been baptized or married, for the task. On an average Sunday two people are chosen at random. In all cases the task is approached with reverence and joy.
And yet, as we consider closely what is actually being offered, the elements offered, bread and wine, should give us pause. We have seen such offerings before in the story of God’s people.
Oh yes, they represent the agricultural gifts of creation, grain and grape, grown, harvested, and used in an action of a sort of secondary creation then offered back to God. Yes, as such they bear a certain dignity as a sacrifice unto the Lord. “All things come of thee, O Lord. And of thine own have we given thee.”
But wait. When did we first see such offerings presented to the Lord? Was it not by Cain? Did not God refuse such an offering, favoring the gift of a life, an animal sacrifice, from Cain’s brother Abel? Was not this first offering of the fruit of the earth not an occasion for joy, but the cause of violence? Indeed, the murder of Abel is the genesis of all violence from a biblical vantage point. From this perspective, the ministry of the oblation bearer is an ironic one. Cain boldly approaches the altar once more.
But the offering of Cain’s gifts is not ironic in the course of the Mass. It is a redemptive offering, one that restores Cain to favor with God and gives an incomparable worth to the gift. It is redemptive in that Abel is present as well in the giving. He who is the second Adam is also the new Abel, offering the living sacrifice to God upon the cross. And also present as Cain’s victim. And this sacrifice to God and victimization of the innocent are recapitulated in the Eucharistic celebration. In Christ, Abel receives his brother’s paltry offering and vests it with the dignity of his own: “This is my body broken,” “This is my blood poured out.” In this action Cain is restored and mercy overcomes the primordial violence.
In a world riven with strife, perhaps we would do well to remember the restoration of Cain that inhabits the center of our Eucharistic life. Can this inform our peacemaking ministries as first and foremost the merciful practice of restoration?
I have yet to work out the implications of this, but I thought it worth sharing.
And yet, as we consider closely what is actually being offered, the elements offered, bread and wine, should give us pause. We have seen such offerings before in the story of God’s people.
Oh yes, they represent the agricultural gifts of creation, grain and grape, grown, harvested, and used in an action of a sort of secondary creation then offered back to God. Yes, as such they bear a certain dignity as a sacrifice unto the Lord. “All things come of thee, O Lord. And of thine own have we given thee.”
But wait. When did we first see such offerings presented to the Lord? Was it not by Cain? Did not God refuse such an offering, favoring the gift of a life, an animal sacrifice, from Cain’s brother Abel? Was not this first offering of the fruit of the earth not an occasion for joy, but the cause of violence? Indeed, the murder of Abel is the genesis of all violence from a biblical vantage point. From this perspective, the ministry of the oblation bearer is an ironic one. Cain boldly approaches the altar once more.
But the offering of Cain’s gifts is not ironic in the course of the Mass. It is a redemptive offering, one that restores Cain to favor with God and gives an incomparable worth to the gift. It is redemptive in that Abel is present as well in the giving. He who is the second Adam is also the new Abel, offering the living sacrifice to God upon the cross. And also present as Cain’s victim. And this sacrifice to God and victimization of the innocent are recapitulated in the Eucharistic celebration. In Christ, Abel receives his brother’s paltry offering and vests it with the dignity of his own: “This is my body broken,” “This is my blood poured out.” In this action Cain is restored and mercy overcomes the primordial violence.
In a world riven with strife, perhaps we would do well to remember the restoration of Cain that inhabits the center of our Eucharistic life. Can this inform our peacemaking ministries as first and foremost the merciful practice of restoration?
I have yet to work out the implications of this, but I thought it worth sharing.
posted by peregrinator at 7:18 PM
3 Comments:
Wow. I had realized that little liturgical action to be important, but this is an exciting dimension that I'd not been aware of.
THanks!
Very insightful, thanks.
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