In Part 1 we explored how the Christian narrative opens up a different understanding of truth from that which is found in the Western world. Instead of truth being seen as a series of propositions that correspond to the way the world actually is, we find the idea of truth as that which transforms the way the world actually is. To have the truth as spoken of by Christ does not mean that we can somehow know God in an epistemological way, but rather that we are in relationship with God and outworking that relationship in the world.
In contrast to the idea that one can know God by the study of systematic theology, Jesus introduced the idea that one could know God by finding God in the other. The idea of loving others as the sign of knowing God (1 John 4.16) complements the idea that in loving others we come face to face with God in the face of the other (Matthew 25.40). This radical commitment to those around us results from a genuine love that is born from God, emanates from God, testifies to God and encounters God.
The focus of faith thus changes from the modern emphasis upon ‘right belief’ (orthodoxy) and ‘right practice’ (orthopraxis) to an emphasis upon believing in the right way and practising in the right way. In other words, in the absence of absolute knowledge, we must seek to live and believe in a way that offers healing, liberation and love to the world, all the while acknowledging that the manner of doing this cannot be worked out fully in advance.
In contrast to the modern emphasis upon what we believe, we must learn again how the test of faith is, from beginning to end, evidenced in how we believe – that is, in how our beliefs challenge, transform and liberate the existence of others and ourselves. In short, how do our beliefs help to transform us into the image of Christ? In ‘Corpus Christi’ we attempt to explore the idea of a faith which is concretely immersed in the world and which consequently recognizes and celebrates the importance of flesh.
This service thus seeks to celebrate this sensual element of Christianity via a celebration of physicality. Out of this celebration the service offers a challenge to embrace the message of love.
As people enter the room they are greeted by bowls filled with fruit on various tables and images of the human body projected onto one of the walls. At the front of the room there is a table full of various fruits with a chopping-board and knife. The DJ plays for around ten minutes while people order a drink and chat. At the back of the room a figure stands with a mike. At around a quarter past seven this person begins with a story:
Early one morning a young man knocked on the door of his beloved. Moments later he heard her say, ‘Who is it?’
‘It is I,’ he replied.
But the door remained shut and his beloved simply said, ‘Then please leave this place, for there is not enough room in my house for two.’
Saddened, the lover left that place.
After a few minutes of music someone comes to the stage and speaks:
There was once a young and gifted woman who set herself the almost impossible task of setting up a printing press so that she could translate and distribute the Word of God to the people. Yet such a job would require a great deal of money, and so, almost as soon as she had conceived the idea, she sold the few items that she possessed and went to live on the streets, begging for the money that she needed.
Raising the necessary funds took many years, for while there were a few who gave generously, most only gave a little, if anything at all. But gradually the money began to accumulate.
However, shortly before the plans for the printing press could be set in motion, a dreadful flood devastated a nearby town, destroying many people’s homes and livelihoods. Without hesitation the woman used all the money she had gathered to feed the hungry and rebuild lost homes.
Once the town began to recover, the woman silently went back to the streets in order to start all over again, collecting the money needed to translate the Word of God.
Many more years passed, with many cold winters that caused great suffering to the woman. Then, shortly before the target amount was reached, disaster struck again. This time a deadly plague descended like a cloud over the city, stealing the lives of thousands.
By now the woman was herself tired and ill, yet without thought she spent the money she had collected on medicines and care for the sick and orphaned.
Then, once the shadow of the plague lifted, she again went onto the streets, driven by her desire to translate the Word of God.
Finally, shortly before her death, this faithful woman gathered the money needed for the printing press and completed the project she had set herself many years before.
After she had passed away, it is rumoured by some that this godly woman had actually spent her time making three translations of the Word, the first two being the most splendid of all.76
Tonight is a celebration of the body, a celebration of our body and the body of the other. It is also an exploration of the idea that we are the body of Christ and that Christ is to be found in the body of our neighbour, whoever they turn out to be. Tonight we wish to reflect upon how to offer our bodies to one another as Christ offers his body for us.
After this opening there is some time for music, poetry and discussion on the theme of love and sacrifice. After this the person at the back of the room speaks again:
The young lover didn’t know quite what to do. He went for a long walk before deciding to call again at the house of his beloved. By the time he returned it was early in the afternoon. Again he knocked and once more he heard her say, ‘Who is it?’
‘It is I,’ he responded, hoping that he would find her in better form.
But once more she responded by saying, ‘Then please leave this place, for there is not enough room in my house for two.’
Once more he turned and left.
As this is being said, some of the fruit on the table at the front of the room is cut into pieces and placed on plates. After the reflections people are invited to approach the table and take some segments of fruit. Once everyone has some fruit they are encouraged to offer it to another in the room while saying, ‘This is a symbol of my body, broken for you.’
After this the person at the back of the room speaks again:
Upon leaving his beloved’s house he called in on some friends for advice, for by this stage he was very worried. His friends suggested that he leave her alone until after tea and then return again with some flowers. And so he went and bought some roses and waited until early in the evening. When he finally got to her door, he held his breath and knocked again.
‘Who is it this time?’ came the response.
‘It is I. Please let me in,’ he responded.
‘I have already told you twice that there is no room for two in this place,’ she replied. ‘Now please go and leave me alone.’
Once more he turned to leave.
This is followed by a musician who plays ‘Wonderful disguise’ by Mike Scott (a song based on a quote by Mother Teresa about people being a disguise of God). Afterwards someone comes up to the stage and addresses those who have gathered:
On 25 September 1941, after all the Jews of Eiskysky and the nearby towns had been rounded up, the 4,000 captives were led to the horse market. In groups of 250 they were taken to the old Jewish cemetery and ordered to undress in front of a line of open ditches. (All this was done under the watch and encouragement of local people.)
The leader of the executions, Ostrovakas, dressed in a white apron and gloves, personally supervised the killing, reserving the right to murder the town’s leaders and practise sharp-shooting on the children.
On that dark day Michalowsky and his 16-year-old son Zvi stood shivering before the open graves. Zvi spent those moments counting the bullets and the amount of time that elapsed between each volley of fire. This meant that a split second before the shots ripped into him, he was able to go limp and fall into the ditch.
He waited for what seemed an eternity as more bodies piled on top of him. He struggled to breathe among the corpses, gagging on the river of blood and the smell of dead flesh.
Very early on 26 September, in the dead of night, he struggled from the grave, all the time listening to the festivities that were still going on in the distance. It seemed that most of the village was out singing, laughing and rejoicing at the massacre.
At the far end of the cemetery, near a huge church, Zvi knew of some Christian families and so he approached them, still naked and covered in blood.
He knocked on the first door. After a few moments the door opened and a peasant woman whom he knew, holding a lamp, looked out. Zvi recognized that the lamp was Jewish and had been pillaged from the empty homes of his community. He pleaded with the woman, saying, ‘Please let me in.’ But she only shook her fist and said, ‘Go back to the grave where you belong, Jew.’
Zvi tried some other houses but the response was the same.
Finally he decided to visit a Christian widow, who lived at the edge of the village near a forest. The old woman answered the door to Zvi holding a small piece of burning wood. ‘Please let me in,’ he begged, but the woman raised the stick and waved it at him wildly, as if warding away a demon, saying, ‘You belong in the cemetery, Jew.’
But Zvi stood firm and replied, ‘Do you not recognize me? I am your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I have come down from the cross to visit you. Look at my blood, my suffering, my innocence. Do not disown me.’
The widow dropped onto her knees and crossed herself before kissing his blood-stained feet. All she could say was ‘My God, my God,’ as she led him into the house.
He stayed there for three days and three nights before finally setting out. He made her promise to tell no one about his visit, not even the priest. Before he left she provided him with warm food, fresh clothes and cold water for the journey.
Zvi survived and began the Jewish partisan movement in the vicinity of Eiskysky.77
While Zvi lied in order to survive, in lying he told the most profound truth of all. For in Zvi, the Messiah did visit that woman.
In closing, the person at the back of the room finishes his story:
By now it is very late and the lover has spent many hours in contemplation. Finally he throws the flowers away and decides to visit his beloved’s house one last time. When he arrives he knocks on the door and hears her say, ‘Who is it?’
But this time he responds by saying, ‘It is not I, for we are one. There is no I but thou.’
After a brief pause the door swings open and his beloved responds by saying, ‘And likewise, there is no I but thou.’
To this day they live together in that little house built for one.78
As the service ends, the remainder of the fruit is given out for people to eat, as they reflect on the content of the evening.