For those who didn't know or have forgotten, my specialty in English literature is Old English literature, the writings of Anglo-Saxons before the Norman Conquest in 1066. (Generally speaking, of course. The Old English language continued to be used post-Conquest for some time.) Think Beowulf. I bring this up because, in order to understand my thoughts during Communion, you need a crash course in Old English heroic poetry.
OE heroic poetry was the product of a sentimental Christian age reflecting on its barbaric past. For the Anglo-Saxons, their ancestors were larger than life, heroes of peerless prowess, men who held honor and loyalty dearer than life. Heroes like Beowulf modeled true manhood, and steadfastness was their chief virtue: they kept their promises or died trying. As Beowulf himself put it, "I shall either work a deed of great daring, or lay down my life." This was the heroic code: men matched their words, or broke on them. Those who fled revealed themselves to be cowards and frauds.
The chief oath in heroic culture was the oath that bound a lord and his band of followers (comitatus). The lord gave his men a home, wealth, and prestige; in return, they gave him their strength and their lives in battle. This relationship began with an oath of fealty from the man to his lord, but it was also reinforced by other oaths in times of crisis. The most important of these times was before a battle: the lord would host a feast before a military campaign, and as the drinking horn passed round the table, each man would rise and boast of the great deeds he would perform in the coming fight. These boasts were not just drinking party bluster, but were binding promises, and the man who did not live up to his boast lost his honor.
We find evidence of this tradition in OE heroic poetry, where it is usually mentioned when the tide of battle turns and men's courage wanes. In The Battle of Maldon, after seeing his lord fall in battle, a young warrior named Alfwine reminds his companions of their oaths:
Think of all the times we boastedThese lines are earnest, but also tinged with sarcasm: they were "heroes in the hall," but will they be heroes in truth? Are they fictions or are they real? Are they men? After Alfwine's speech, some fought and died, and some fled. And this poem preserves their names, so that even now, a thousand years later, we know nothing of these men but who kept their honor and who lost it.
at the mead-bench, heroes in the hall
predicting our own bravery in battle.
Now we shall see who meant what he said.
So, now let us read the institution of the Lord's Table through the eyes of an Anglo-Saxon raised to honor the heroic code:
For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, That the Lord Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed, took bread:Do you see it yet?
and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat; this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.
After the same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me.
For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's death till he come. (I Cor. 11:23-26)
Simon Peter said unto him, Lord, whither goest thou? Jesus answered him, Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now; but thou shalt follow me afterward.Do you see it yet?
Peter said unto him, Lord, why cannot I follow thee now? I will lay down my life for thy sake.
Jesus answered him, Wilt thou lay down thy life for my sake? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, The cock shall not crow, till thou hast denied me thrice.
But he spake the more vehemently, If I should die with thee, I will not deny thee in any wise. Likewise also said they all. (Jn. 13:36-38, Mk 14:31)
His oath, His covenant, His bloodThis is what I see when I am at my Lord's table. The day before His greatest battle, my Lord raised His cup and swore an oath to do battle on behalf of His people, to shed His own blood for their sake. His followers did the same, swearing their undying loyalty. They broke their word, but He kept His: "The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this" (Is 9:7). He is the Hero of heroes, the living Oath--the Word incarnate.
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.
But I am not a hero like Christ, or Beowulf, or even Alfwine. I am like Peter, intending great things and always falling short through weakness or wickedness. I look at Beowulf and I am broken, for his perfection is an impossibility: even if my will does not waver, I am too weak to accomplish my intent. But my Lord is not like Beowulf. I, the oath-breaker and fraud and coward, even I can share His table, and He does not cast me out. Each time I come to His table, I raise my cup to Him, remembering His great oath, and making my own. Mine, I break; His holds true. And so I come to the table again and again, seeing in Him all I lack, and hoping that perhaps this week I will acquit myself well--perhaps this week I will be like young Alfwine and be brave like my Lord.
So, I'll end with this, a passage from an Old English poem, The Dream of the Rood. In it, the poet has a vision in which the cross of Christ speaks to him and tells its version of the crucifixion. This is a true Hero.
...Men shifted me
on their shoulders and set me on a hill.
Many enemies fastened me there. I saw the Lord of Mankind
hasten with such courage to climb upon me.
I dared not bow or break there
against my Lord's wish, when I saw the surface
of the earth tremble. I could have felled
all my foes, yet I stood firm.
Then the young warrior, God Almighty,
stripped Himself, firm and unflinching. He climbed
upon the cross, brave before many, to redeem mankind.
I trembled when the hero grappled me,
yet I dared not bow to the ground,
fall to the earth. I had to stand firm.
A cross was I raised up; I bore aloft the mighty King,
the Lord of Heaven...
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