The Medieval Virtues of the "Virtual Eucharist"

Online or virtual Eucharistic services seem to be popping up everywhere on the Internet as an alternative that provides Anglicans and Episcopalians accustomed to frequent Holy Communion with something familiar, something reassuring, in the era of social distancing. One cannot argue against this laudable intention. But this does raise an important question: Does the “Virtual Eucharist” constitute a best practice in times when in-person or face-to-face worship has been suspended? 

Until recently, this question did not seem to pose a serious problem to those who devised creative ways to make Holy Communion available to their members. An expansive reading of the Book of Common Prayer allows for communion from the reserved Sacrament (Holy Eucharist, p. 396), and “in one kind only” (Ministration to the Sick, p. 457). Indeed, news of “drive thru,” “pick up,” or even “home delivery” Communion abound on the Internet. 

However, access to Holy Communion in the era of social distancing does not come without risk. Clergy must maintain an antiseptic environment during consecration, and methods of distribution require extraordinary measures to avoid in-person contact (measures that might have been deemed wholly inappropriate in the past). Moreover, the stricter enforcement of local Stay-at-Home directives means that churches now face potential legal and liability risks if they continue to provide Holy Communion in these ways.

The Question of Remote Consecration

For most Anglicans, remote consecration would have been unthinkable only a few weeks ago. But some are now suggesting that online Eucharistic services may constitute a theological game changer.

Last century, when worship services were first televised, discussions ensued in some circles at to whether a priest presiding at a televised service could consecrate bread and wine set before a TV. Most traditions dismissed this idea as the stuff of “televangelists,” and quite predictably, fringe televangelism is the only place where this idea gained any traction at all.

But does livestream technology make a crucial difference? Might not a priest livestreaming Christ’s words of institution over the bread and wine on the altar also remotely consecrate bread and wine at home? This idea may have some appeal to those who regard Holy Communion as primarily something that happens in one’s mind or heart, spiritually speaking, where eating bread and drinking wine merely reminds the individual believer of Christ’s death on the cross. But, sacramental traditions, like the Roman Catholics, Lutherans, and Anglicans, believe that the bread and wine of the Eucharist are the means by which the embodied presence of Jesus Christ is offered to us. Simply put, these traditions believe in the real presence of Christ in the Sacrament, not a virtual one. Physicality and locality actually matter in consecration, as it does in the administration of the waters of Holy Baptism. 

Back to the Middle Ages?

The irony is not lost on this author that, devoid of lay access, the Virtual Eucharist bears more than a passing resemblance to the Mass of the Middle Ages, when its celebration was a spectator event and, in practice, the partaking of Communion was the exclusive reserve of clergy. Perennial “plague, pestilence, and famine” did little to encourage lay communion without fear of receiving the Body and Blood of Christ in an unworthy manner, serving only to stoke the wrath of God.

Ironically, these fears may have reduced fatality rates. People in the Middle Ages did not possess our knowledge of viruses or other infectious diseases. But they knew enough to avoid large gatherings when plague was afoot. The bells of medieval churches might have beckoned the faithful to High Mass. But, with few exceptions, mostly high holy days, medieval people did not gather; at least not like we gather in our churches today. Rather they trickled. 

They trickled into churches, into naves, into transepts and side chapels, to say their prayers and private devotions, often while Mass was already underway. Some might kneel near enough to the rood screen to sneak a peak at the clergy, shrouded in incense, performing their sacred acts at the High Altar, while the ethereal voices of choristers bid them to lift up their hearts to the heavenly hosts before the throne of the Almighty. The tinkling of Sanctus bells would announce the Elevation of the Host, prompting them to cross themselves before the Real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament. But, just as they had trickled in, they would trickle out, often before Mass was over.

However, make no mistake, the nearly round-the-clock rhythm of the ecclesiastical apparatus constituted the very pulse of medieval life. The age was characterized by bustling liturgical processions, cloistered monks praying the hours, friars soliciting alms for the poor, nuns tending hospitals set up by their religious orders, open-air preaching, catechesis for the young, and humble curates performing weddings, baptisms, hearing confessions, and giving last rites. 

This was also an age that saw the concept of the celebrant acting in Persona Christi (“in the Person of Christ”) realized to its fullest splendor. Not only was Christ present in the sacramental actions of the priest at the altar, but Christians also saw in the celebrant’s reception of the consecrated species their own, vicariously received communion.

For many Episcopalians, especially of low-church temperament, this world seems strange and even “un-Anglican.” The English Reformers went to great lengths to restore the centrality of Scripture in the life of the Church and access to the Sacraments to the laity. The Anglican way of encountering the Triune God through Word and Sacrament not only nurtures hundreds of millions in the Anglican Communion, but also sets a standard that other traditions have emulated. Why would we ever wish to go back to the way things were in the Middle Ages?

Yet, arguably, the era of social distancing prompts a fresh reappraisal, especially at a time when Christians will rely more and more on remote worship, including the Virtual Eucharist, to nurture their Christian faith. Though the Reformers swept away much of what they considered medieval abuse, perhaps some comfort can be taken that they did not entirely throw out the baby with the bathwater, particularly in their re-crafting of the in Persona Christi concept in reformed guise. Thomas Cranmer’s own words are instructive here: 

“When [the priest] ministereth to our sights Christ's holy sacraments, we must think Christ crucified and presented before our eyes, because the sacraments so represent him, and be his sacraments, and not the priest's … and at the Lord's holy table the priest distributeth wine and bread to feed the body, so we must think that inwardly by faith we see Christ feeding both body and soul to eternal life. What comfort can be devised any more in this world for a Christian?” (Cranmer’s Answer to Bishop Gardiner)

+ + +

Postscript

In a joint letter published on March 17, 2020, Archbishops Justin Welby and John Sentamu (of York) wrote that the Church of England must face the challenges of being a “different sort of church” rooted in prayer and serving others. Embedded in their message was the prescient observation that the global COVID-19 pandemic has only served to accelerate the seismic shift already taking place in what it means to be a Christian in today’s world, and what it will mean for our future. We have no idea how long the era of social distancing will endure. Many variables are in play. Nevertheless, the archbishops are keen to predict its inevitable effect on the life of Church: “Our life is going to be less characterized by attendance at church on Sunday, and more characterized by the prayer and service we offer each day.”