Abstract
In Eucharistic Body Frank Senn reminds the reader, “the Eucharist is all about bodies” (xii). He admits to giving little thought about his own body “until a diagnosis of colon cancer hit [him] squarely in the solar plexus” (68). Senn’s recovery included the practice of yoga along with a deepened appreciation for the embodied nature of Christian ritual. Readers may recognize here a line of thought developed in his Embodied Liturgy: Lessons in Christian Ritual (Fortress, 2016). Senn continues this reflection in Eucharistic Body, working at the intersection of Holy Communion as sacramental body, church as body of Christ, and the particular bodies—including his own—of faithful Christians who celebrate the sacrament together. Eucharistic Body is at times deeply autobiographical, yet throughout he maintains the theological rigor and pastoral insight characteristic of his other work.
Senn’s personal narrative begins with discussion of his first communion, received at age 13 (1). He moves quickly to a description of a piety rooted in weekly Eucharist as it emerged during his undergraduate and seminary years, during which his vocation as a liturgical scholar also took shape (2–3). He returns later to memories of the adolescent body of his first communion, and the all too recognizable admission that “the body can be a real problem for a thirteen year old” (63). However, Senn’s narrative takes us beyond the awkwardness of adolescent boys to a story of the abuse perpetrated upon him by a tenant of his family. Senn apologizes for telling these “embarrassing adolescent things in an academic and pastoral work” (64) while noting that their occurrence in close proximity to his first communion contributed to the power of that moment. As he insists, there is no separating any aspect of human experience from the Eucharist (64). His discussion of abuse occurs as preface to reflection upon Christ’s crucifixion, which he reminds, likely occurred with Jesus “stark naked” as part of the Roman attempt “to inflict maximum humiliation” (73–74). From there he moves to a twentieth-century account of torture in Chile, as it was used to control populations through fear (76–77). These passages were difficult to read, yet they are necessary if the reader is going to perceive what the pastor, theologian, and cancer survivor who penned them knows, that participation in God’s mysteries is not for those who would hope to find salvation through the avoidance of our bodies and the pain that they carry. Senn insists that healing under the ministries of the church is possible, but yet again, not via pathways of avoidance (83–84). The church has much to gain—pastorally, theologically, and ethically—from hearing such narratives.
He engages various other topics related to the juxtaposition of Eucharist and embodiment: anaphora as offering that brings together all of life before God (chapter 2 and pp. 40–41), Eucharist as reminder that we are created from the stuff of the earth (chapter 3 and p. 61), and classic trinitarian language, and defense of the same, as embodied expression of the relationship that Jesus shared with the Father (chapter 6 and pp. 114–15). In a manner typical of the author, all of these reflections are delivered without apology and sometimes stridently. For example, he refers to some feminist critiques as an “assault on the Trinitarian name” (108).
I must quibble at one such point. He offers a strong argument for baptism as the entrance point to the body of Christ and thus eucharistic participation, including by those baptized as infants. In contrast, he notes Methodism in particular as practitioners of an open table, that is, of communion even for the non-baptized (for instance, 146). Given this discussion, I noted his claim that many Protestant congregations do not commune their baptized infants, thus making it “possible that non-Christians are invited to a Eucharist that does not include all of the baptized” (155). That scenario is, in fact, quite possible, although we may be faced here with a mixing of categories, that is, of official rubrics set over against the disparate practices of local congregations. In my own United Methodist context, the practice of open table is passionately defended, yes, but along with clearly expressed rubrics urging the communion of newly baptized infants (The United Methodist Book of Worship, 102). By and large, the rubric for communing our children is well followed, and this reviewer would hope, to Pastor Senn’s delight.