“Could I have a blessing?”
asked the young woman kneeling at the altar, arms crossed over her chest. “Could you bless my baby?” inquired the new mother standing at the altar, newborn resting in her embrace. “Bless my grandchildren, please,” pleaded the proud grandparents crouching at the altar, young children squirming in anticipation at their side. “I need a blessing,” implored the young man collapsing at the altar, head hanging in distress and defeat. I have oft been asked to bless persons during the Eucharist. Every time I am asked, I am met with a mix of emotions: nervousness, hesitation, fear, pride, honor, joy. What do I say? Am I even allowed to bless persons? What does blessing someone really mean? Yet, just as my emotions meet me, so too does the same expectant facial expression gazing back at me – a hopeful expression that God’s grace and mercy will be conferred onto the individual for whom the blessing is said. In that moment, I now actively recall Rabbi Sager’s urging that “These people love you. They want nothing more than your blessing.”[1] Therefore, an ethic of blessing at the Communion rail deserves time and attention.[2] This ethic can be derived by looking to past and present Jewish voices in conversation with contemporary Episcopal liturgy. Ultimately, these sources demonstrate that a blessing for an individual at the Eucharist must be intentional. Though the words need not be fixed, a structure is essential. Blessing a person at the Eucharist must name God, embrace and acknowledge the person receiving the blessing, and be given with consent. This all contributes to fostering an environment of radical inclusion rooted in God. Blessing in Episcopal Liturgy In order to form a responsible ethic of blessing, we must first explore why someone might request a blessing at the Communion rail and the conventional form this blessing might take. Persons request a blessing at the Eucharist in lieu of receiving the sacrament for any number of reasons. They may: not yet be baptized, not feel spiritually or theologically ready, have an allergy or are recovering from alcoholism, feel as though their soul or spirit is not right with God, or – like a wailing shofar – long to be seen and heard. Though distinct reasons, each request is grounded in feeling like the other; in feeling like the stranger. Thus, there is a spiritual need for a codified ethic of blessing because a blessing can invite the outsider into God’s community. The conventional Episcopal blessing tends to take one of two forms:
These blessings suggest that a blessing is to be done in God’s name and confer some aspect of the Divine onto the recipient. Otherwise, no guidance exists for blessing an individual at the Eucharist.[5] Yet, other resources exist to which we can look to inform an ethic of blessing. These include poets like Marge Piercy and Rivka Miriam, rabbis such as Rabbi Yossi and Rabbi Meir, and canonical texts like the Siddur and the Hebrew Bible. Each of these sources convey that a blessing does need a form and must name God, embrace and acknowledge the person receiving the blessing, and be given with consent. Structure Episcopal and Jewish liturgy leave no doubt that form matters. Prayers, blessings, and service rites all draw on tradition and invoke language of the past and present. The ritualistic language then gives life to communities because the individual and the communal cannot be separated.[6] Thus, form does matter, even if the words are not fixed, as it connects individuals across time and space as holy partners. In Judaism, the blessing “Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe who [action by or characteristic of God]” is preeminent. Regarding blessing in this manner, Rabbi Yosi argues that “Anyone who deviates from the berachot stamped by the sages has not fulfilled responsibility.”[7] Rabbi Meir supports Rabbi Yosi when he teaches that once must pray “Blessed is HaMakom who created it” in order to fulfill responsibility.[8] The Siddur, especially in the Amidah, echoes this cadence. Even the blessings for good and bad news follow this template of naming God then name something about God. The blessing for good news reads, “Blessed are you, Adonai, our God, sovereign of the world who is good and who makes for God;” and the blessing for bad news follows suit with, “Blessed are you, Adonai, our God, sovereign of the world who is the judge of truth.”[9] Thus, a clear form emerges from both these blessings, just as Rabbis Yossi and Meir argued. Yet, the conversation regarding form is not definitive. The poet Marge Piercy presents an alternative perspective in her poem “The Art of Blessing the Day.” Piercy does not present a clear blessing structure. Rather, she emphasizes what comes after the who in traditional Jewish blessings. This is to say, Piercy emphasizes the experiential part of the blessing – what it is that is happening. For Piercy, blessing is an individual rather than communal act. However, though she is “not sentimental about old men mumbling the Hebrew by rote with no more feeling than one says gesundheit,” Piercy’s poem develops a form of its own with each stanza naming creation and naming something about that which is created. In this way, it is a nod to form; even if Piercy herself would critique the tradition. From the rabbis to the poets, form has a place in an ethic of blessing. This is particularly important because liturgy allows for community formation, thereby facilitating radical inclusion. Naming God The traditional forms of blessings proposed by the rabbis and the Book of Common Prayer all root the blessing in God by first naming God. The blessings begin “Blessed are you, Lord our God…,” “Overflowing are you…,” “Transcendent are you…,” “The Lord bless you…,” and the examples continue. They then continue by naming something about who God is or what God does. This occurs after the “who” in the traditional form of Jewish blessing. For example, “…who brings life to the dead” or “…who forms light and creates darkness.”[10] A blessing, therefore, both glorifies God and blesses its recipient through its affirmation of God. Again, the poets add a unique take on this conversation. Though Marge Piercy never names God in her poem, “The Art of Blessing the Day” names objects that are of God. She writes of rain, sun, peach, tomato, victory, return of a cat, returned love, rising bread, and the sun, to name a few. This seems to imply God’s presence in her poem. The poet Rivka Miriam, conversely, explicitly names God in diverse ways. In her “Great, Mighty, Awesome” she echoes the refrain of God’s names from the Great Gathering.[11] By doing this, she invokes the convention of ancestors’ past, even from the time of Moses. In another of her poems, “I Spread God’s Name in Front of Me,” Miriam gives different names to God for the different seasons of her life. Thus, like rabbinical teachings, Miriam’s work argues for naming God. Yet, Piercy demonstrates that naming God requires more than titling God. Instead, to name God is to both title God and be in awe of God’s creation. This, too, is in lie with traditional teaching as a blessing both names God and then names something about God. Ultimately, God must come first so a blessing is rooted in the LORD. Acknowledging and Embracing the Blessed The incredible part of naming something about God in a blessing is that, by doing so, a connection is made between the recipient and the Divine. This connection comes in the form of acknowledging and embracing a person where they are. Marge Piercy excels at this. By emphasizing the experiential part of part of a blessing, Piercy notes the details which make each object being blessed unique. The details that are to be celebrated, acknowledged, or embraced. For example, she notices the shimmer of rain and the “perfumed shawl of lavender chiffon” which accompanies a rainfall; the bees dancing in the pollen left after the rain; the cardinal singing in the sun; the “burrowing worm that coils” in a peach; the weight and taste of a new tomato; and the struggle, setbacks, and pain which go into a political victory.[12] To Piercy, “attention is love.” If a blessing is about conveying God’s love, then attention – or discernment – must be given. It is discernment which transforms a blessing from mere words to truly seeing someone; to welcoming them at the altar and in God’s house. Wether intentional or not, Piercy draws on a long line of tradition which asserts that a blessing is a consolidation of something that is known to be true. This means that a blessing for a person at the Eucharist must be predicated on who that person is and where they are in that moment. Rabbi Sager speaks to this. He explained that “when blessing someone, we are saying “You are a blessing, or an overflow of God in a world which desperately needs it.”[13] Blessings, therefore, are intensely intimate. They are a moment of worshipping God, conferring the Divine’s presence, and truly seeing the person who has approached the altar. Consent The final component of an ethic of blessing is that the blessing must be consensual for it to be truly inclusive. Imposing a blessing on someone without their consent and without discernment could further isolate someone. This need for consent comes both from a personal commitment to honoring a person’s agency and a scriptural basis. Take, for example, the story of Isaac and Esau. Isaac desired to give Esau his blessing, but only after Esau hunted and prepared food for his father. Isaac needed Esau to participate in his blessing before he could give it. He needed Esau to convey his consent to be blessed.[14] Much like Isaac required Esau’s participation in blessing, so too did God ask Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha to bless God’s self before Rabbi Yishmael blessed God.[15] So too would I ensure the person approaching the Communion rail wanted to be blessed before blessing her or him. By establishing consent, mutuality between priest and recipient of the blessing is also established. This mutuality is the final aspect which enables a blessing to be an agent of radical inclusion in an otherwise alienating moment. Conclusion: Example Blessings at the Eucharist This conversation about the ethic of blessing at the Communion altar leads to a workshopping of potential Eucharist blessings. Let us revisit our opening scenarios. Consider the young woman, arms crossed, kneeling at the altar. Perhaps she is not a baptized Christian. She may feel like the “other,” like she does not belong. A blessing in line with the proposed ethic of blessing could be: “Overflowing are you, O Lord our God, whose love and grace covers all of creation, including your daughter N.; may you feel God’s comforting warmth, radical inclusion, and find yourself carried by community. Amen.” Or, recalling the new mother, a priest may offer her baby: “Abundant are you, O Lord our God, who brings life into this world and carries life in your arms; may you shine your love on the life of this baby N., your child, and may you continue to light up the world through her smile. Amen.” In response to the grandparents who inquired about their visiting grandchildren, expedited discernment is needed. Imagine that one child is bouncing with energy, barely able to remain kneeling for long enough to receive a blessing. Imagine that the other child wears a mismatched outfit boasting various colors and patterns. Blessings for these children might sound like: “Awesome are you, O Lord our God, whose energy brought into being your son N.; continue to infuse him with your energy so that his energy may give life to others. Amen.” For the creative child: “Transcendent are you, O Lord our God, who creatively decorated our world with patterns, colors, and textures in a harmonious design; may you continue to inspire your daughter N. and fuel her creative spirit. Amen.” Finally, the young man whose head hangs in defeat. Perhaps his soul longs for God, yet he is unsure if he can be forgiven. He may be searching. He may be feeling vulnerable by simply stepping foot in church, let alone approaching the altar. Without knowing his story, a blessing might entreat: “Embracing are you, O Lord our God, whose mercy and compassion know no bounds; whose wings spread over your children like those of a Mother Hen; embrace your son N., carry him in his weakness, mend his spirit, and given him your peace. Amen.” Though only examples and not templates, each of these possible Eucharist blessings communicate the aspects of an ethic of blessing derived from placing the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer and Jewish teachings in conversation. They were all intentionally crafted for their unique situation, follow a structure naming God first and then acknowledging something specific about God and the person receiving the blessing, and were all given with consent after a person asked. It is this framework that I carry forward with me as my ethic of blessing at the Communion altar which will, God willing, cultivate an environment of radical inclusion for all who choose to enter wherever I serve. [1] Paraphrased story from Rabbi Sager, Duke Divinity School, 16 October 2019. [2] From this point on, any time I mention an “ethic of blessing,” I am specifically referring to blessing an individual during the Eucharist. Blessings for a home, meal, congregation, etc. require a different conversation. [3] The Episcopal Church, Book of Common Prayer, 339. [4] Ibid., 114 [5] I looked at everything considered a “blessing” in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer and the Occasional Book of Services, the two approved liturgical resources for the Episcopal Church, while doing research for this paper. All blessings took a vaguely trinitarian formula, named some aspect of God, and conferred that aspect onto an individual. [6] From in-class conversation on the Siddur, Duke Divinity School, 2 October 2019. [7] Babylonian Talmud: Berachot 40b. [8] Ibid. [9] Mishnah Berachot 9:2. [10] Examples taken from blessings in the Siddur. [11] Rivka Miriam, “Great, Mighty, and Awesome.” [12] Marge Piercy, “The Art of Blessing the Day.” [13] Rabbi Sager, Duke Divinity School, Class on September 18. [14] Genesis 27:1-4. [15] Babylonian Talmud Berachot 7a. |