Pentecost has sometimes been called the birthday of the Church, but one could just as well argue that in John’s Gospel, the Church is formed at the foot of the cross as Jesus entrusts the Blessed Mother and the Beloved Disciple to one another’s care. In John, there’s no account of a Day of Pentecost as in the Acts of the Apostles. In John, the Holy Spirit is the Paraclete, the one who comes alongside the apostles to encourage, comfort, and guide them in the aftermath of Jesus’s death, resurrection, and ascension into heaven. The exact moment in linear time of the birthday or formation of the Church is less important than the fact that the Church is formed and given a distinct mission by God. This mission is directed and inspired by the Holy Spirit, and this is cause for celebration on the Day of Pentecost.
But there’s something else that we can clearly associate with the Church in her earliest days, as she was being constituted to live and exist in the aftermath of Easter. The Church came to be known as the group of Jesus’s followers who, while also adhering to Jewish customs, began to gather on the Lord’s Day, the first day of the week, the Day of Resurrection. It’s difficult for us to imagine how startling this would have been. Previously, the Sabbath (Saturday) was the day that defined their existence. But for those who found their new identity in Christ, the day that assumed primal importance was the Lord’s Day, Sunday.
It’s interesting to me that some modern calendars have begun classifying Monday as the first day of the week. There’s probably a practical reason: in a culture defined by work and school, Monday is the first day of the working week. But, sadly, it’s a fit metaphor for the mindset of many of us who go to church. The workweek has come to define our lives. It shapes our sense of success and worth. It determines how we allocate our time. It guides how much money we have and what possessions we seek. We Christians have succumbed to the illusion of Monday as the first day of the week because, in most parts of the world, we’ve forgotten how countercultural and demanding it is to be a Christian. The earliest Christians, in the days when professing faith in Jesus was a matter of life or death, would never have envisioned a week oriented around Monday. Sunday was the day.
Sunday doesn’t seem to carry the spiritual weight of former days. We’re told that the average Christian goes to church about once a month, and somehow this is seen as acceptable by many, even in church leadership. I, however, would hope that we can aspire to something higher, something that aligns better with Jesus’s commands to follow him at all cost. Remember some of Jesus’s words: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). It’s my dream that at Good Shepherd we not accept the lowest common denominator of spirituality as our default mode. Recently, Bishop Gutiérrez has encouraged all parishes in the diocese to set a high bar of expectations in terms of Christian discipleship. To paraphrase some of his words: if sports organizations and school activities and other extracurricular activities establish rigorous standards, why should the Church be any different? And why would we expect people to respect the Church if she doesn’t assume deep commitments from her members? This is not a matter of being competitive; it’s a matter of being faithful as Christians. I agree wholeheartedly with our bishop. Why have some in the Church settled for such a lackadaisical way of existing?
A good starting place for striving towards spiritual maturity is observing the Lord’s Day with reverence and awe. To do so is explicitly stated in our baptismal promises, drawing on words from Acts 2:42. In Baptism, we promise to “continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers” (BCP, p. 304). I imagine the earliest Christians would have found it incomprehensible that this meant anything other than marking every Sunday (not one Sunday a month!) as the time for sharing in the breaking of bread and the prayers. I doubt they were so devoted to the Lord’s Day because of a perfunctory obligation. Rather, I suspect they consistently celebrated the Lord’s Day with the Eucharist because they lived in the immediate aftermath of what God had done by raising Jesus Christ from the dead. To be in Christ was to share in his Body and Blood and in the Paschal Mystery of dying to sin and rising with Christ to new life. Furthermore, it was our Lord himself who commanded the regular observance of sharing bread and wine together as a participation in the Body and Blood of Christ. What will it take for us to share the same awe and wonder of those early disciples and to allow the Lord’s Day to be the focus around which the rest of our lives revolve?
It may be that we shouldn’t wait to experience awe and wonder before we pattern our lives on the observance of the Lord’s Day. We will probably need to start with some personal and spiritual discipline. We will need to start by letting Sunday be the first day of the week for us. Could we imagine missing work if we didn’t feel like it? Could we imagine missing school if it were inconvenient? It should seem equally incomprehensible for us to miss the celebration of Mass on Sundays, except for serious illness. Indeed, attending Mass on Sundays should take precedence over all other activities in our lives! If this sounds unreasonable, then it surely demonstrates how far the Christian ideal has strayed from the spiritual patterns of the early Church.
There are all kinds of good reasons to go to church: it’s spiritually beneficial to us, it heals us, it’s good for our physical well-being (studies seem to show), it’s a part of our salvation, and it’s a means of finding community. And while all these reasons may be true, they’re not the ultimate reason to honor the Lord’s Day with deep reverence. The real reason to do so is because it’s the most proper action of a Christian. To take up our cross and follow Jesus and to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength is to let God become the fulcrum around which our entire life moves. In him, we live and move and have our being. God is, simply put, worthy of our praise and worship, and that is why Sunday is the first day of the week for us. That is why in Roman Catholic theology the Mass is described as “the source and summit of the Christian life” (see the Catechism of the Catholic Church).
As we begin the summer months, it seems good to remind ourselves of the significance—the holiness—of the Lord’s Day. The summer may be a time for vacations, but it’s not a time for vacations from Mass. Whether you’re in town or traveling, I encourage you to make Sunday the first day of your week. If you have family or friends visiting, bring them to Mass. If you have a commitment that conflicts with the 10:30 a.m. Mass, come to the 8 a.m. Low Mass (and vice versa). At Good Shepherd, we’re signaling the importance of Sundays (even in the summer!) by offering a formation series for all ages, where we will explore ways to put God at the center of our lives. If you’re traveling (and many of us will be this summer), find the nearest Episcopal church and go to Mass. Going to church is not a burden; it’s a joy! And if it feels inconvenient, that’s probably when we most need to go to church.
This Sunday, as we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples (and upon us) and the beginning of the Church’s missional movement to the ends of the earth, let’s also rejoice in our call as Christ’s risen Body, a Body called to gather on the first day of the week, every week. When we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, we’re drawn into deepest union with God and one another. We’re drawn into deepest union with the communion of saints and the whole host of heaven. In the Mass, heaven and earth are joined for a brief period of earthly time. Sunday is the first day of the week because the mystery of that day constitutes our very identity. Is there any other reason needed to go to church? I’ll look forward to seeing you at Mass this Sunday.
Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle