“For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you …” – 1 Corinthians 11:23

There is nothing that touches me the way the Mass touches me. Whether as a child receiving communion for the very first time in a non-denominational church my grandmother took me to (I was about nine or ten, unbaptized, and actually thought coffee hour snacks were being served early as the plate with the Chiclet-shaped bread and little cuplets [sic] of grape juice were passed from person to person in the pews) or as a priest administering the Sacrament, I have never not known the presence of God in the Mass. I remember my first communion in an Episcopal church – by which time I was a young teen (and still unbaptized) – and that which I came to learn was called the “prayer of humble access” (“we are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs from under thy table, O merciful Lord …”) taught me not to fear coming to the table (for all my sins both known and unknown), but to delight in coming to the table by the invitation of One who wrapped me in his own worthiness. We are not worthy, but “thou art the same Lord whose property is always – ALWAYS – to have mercy.”

It was not just the words of institution that were passed along to St. Paul, but the gift of mercy, the gift of grace, the gift of God’s very own presence in the breaking of the bread and sharing of the cup. Paul is clear. These things aren’t given to us by the other Apostles but from Jesus. Like Paul, a priest may stand behind the Altar, but it is Jesus who consecrates the elements; it is Jesus who breaks the bread and shares the cup. I am not worthy, but through God’s grace, I am healed. It is well with my soul.

God, you take a simple thing like bread and knead yourself into it so that we may have life. You take the simple juices of grapes, crushed, stored, and (in the fullness of time) pour into them your Spirit so that we may have joy. So allow those elements to enter our very own bloodstream, that we may find strength and courage to deliver unto others what you have delivered unto us – health, holiness, and well-being; in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
– Fr. Keith Axberg

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 2:5

Wow – the same mind as Christ’s mind! I remember thinking that must be impossible. Especially in my early days of serious Christianity. And then, ever so gradually, God began to teach me that, indeed, it was not only possible but also His will for me. I learned that my job was to listen to Him and follow His directions. Sometimes His directions seemed a little unusual – like the time I had a secure job in which I could use my nursing skills well. It seemed that He had a better plan – a complete change of nursing field in which He was able to use my skills even better and lead me to a Master’s degree, faculty position, and school nurse jobs until retirement. Because I listened to His mind.

Dear God, help us to focus on letting your same mind be in each of us. Amen.
-Barb Cheyney

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.” – Philippians 2:5-7 (emphasis mine)

Verses 6-11 of this passage are said to be a hymn about Christ, and it is part of verse 6 that I have emphasized above. It just renders me speechless to know that Jesus “did not view equality with God as something to be exploited” and that he chose to be born in human likeness, giving up all of the powers that He had as the second person of the Trinity. He chose to be born in an occupied land to people who had no power or prestige. He was born in a manger, in a filthy place instead of in a castle. He worked as a carpenter, which I have heard was more like a construction worker of sorts at that time. The Son of God chose to give up everything he had and to live among us. How amazing and earthshattering is that?!?!?

A few years ago on Maundy Thursday, I was kneeling in prayer while the altar was being stripped, and my mind went to Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. He was praying that he wouldn’t have to die on the Cross. He knew it was part of the plan, He knew it would be excruciatingly painful, and He was having what seemed to be a moment of fear. What came to me that night was that Jesus is present with us in those liminal times when we are about to face some kind of transition. Those kinds of times are really scary for me because change is scary. Yet, Jesus emptied Himself and became human to understand the fear that we face, and He is there with us as we are facing it.

How amazing is our Lord!

Lord, we thank you for choosing to give up equality with God so that you could come and live as one of us, die in our place, and make it so that death is not the end. This gift of love is more than we can fathom. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, treat each other with humility and honor.” – Philippians 2:5

Something was growing in my body that did not belong there. Not only that, but it could spread, and eventually could kill me. It was the dreaded “C” word, the one that had claimed my mother and my friends, Marilyn, Susan, and Jane – among others.

My prognosis was good; surgical removal of my reproductive organs and associated lymph nodes should completely take care of it. That was good news, but I mourned the loss of the parts of my body that helped define me as female, wife, and mother.

I experienced Philippians 2:5 as I approached family friends and co-workers with my diagnosis. I was treated with humility and honor as others shared their, often similar, experiences. My sons and their families all came to visit on Christmas before the surgery. Members of St. Paul’s created a prayer quilt and prayers for my recovery were tied into the quilt. Medical professionals helped me understand the various options that were available and listened to my concerns and fears.

At the hospital, while waiting for my surgery, I sat with my prayer quilt and several of the medical workers stopped to ask about it and to wish me well. As I waited for the appointed time, I was apprehensive but calm. I could feel the prayers surrounding me and upholding me. All was well with my soul.

After the successful surgery, friends and coworkers continued to provide prayers and support with food, texts, cards, and messages. The community lived out the mind of Christ in treating me, and one another, with humility and honor.

Dear God, help us to have the mind of Christ and to treat one another with humility and honor. Bless all those who are ill and be with their families and caregivers. Give us grateful hearts, for we pray in your most holy name. Amen.
-Cathey Frederick