The coronation of King Charles a couple of weeks ago turned out to be quite controversial and even divisive. One of many arguments against it was whether such an ancient Christian ritual makes any sense in 21st-century Britain, a place so diverse on the one hand and increasingly irreligious on the other that it can hardly be called a Christian country. Although the pageantry was impressive (when you watch only the 10-minute-long highlights in the news), I won’t argue for or against the whole thing. However, based on the original liturgy devised over a thousand years ago, the coronation invoked something deeply ingrained in our individual and collective psyche, described by an old-fashioned word: consecration.
In the broadest sense, it’s setting something or someone apart for a particular purpose or role. Though without any special ritual, we keep certain things for special moments or events, such as our “Sunday best”, which describes an outfit reserved for special occasions. My dear Mum has a set of cutlery and decorative crockery used only for big events; so special that my annual visit to hers doesn’t count as such; when I’m there, we eat from bog-standard plates and use standard forks and knives – we are civilised after all… Most of us have something special, even if that’s a pair of “winning socks”, and that’s our personal, secular version of consecration. In a religious sense, such an attitude is common in most faiths, even if the actual term isn’t used. It often applies to places, individuals or equipment used in ceremonies. In practical terms, it means they are excluded from use for anything other than their designation. For example, a Catholic church isn’t just a venue that can be used for any activity. It’s considered sacred and used for religious ceremonies; other events can occasionally occur when they are considered dignified and respectful of the place and its main purpose.
At the heart of consecration lies service. Places are consecrated to serve a designated religious purpose. Various pieces of equipment are consecrated for use in a designated way only. People are consecrated to fulfil specific roles. Jesus defined it very clearly, referring to himself as the model of service: “Whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:27-28) He addressed these words to his closest disciples after they had argued about their pecking order. During his public ministry, Jesus moulded, formed and shaped them in his likeness up to the moment they were ready to be consecrated. Today’s gospel reading is such a moment.
St John presented the Last Supper as the final act of the formation programme for Jesus’ disciples. The opening act of it was Jesus’ action that astonished the group. He washed their feet, something usually done by the lowliest of servants. So shocked were they that Simon Peter loudly protested against it: “You will never wash my feet.” (John 13:8) It took some persuasion by Jesus to change Peter’s mind. Then, still gobsmacked, they heard Jesus’ explanation: “You call me Teacher and Lord – and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you should also wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.” (John 13:13-15) The closing act of the Last Supper was Jesus’ prayer of consecration; we heard about one-third of the whole prayer in the gospel reading. I consider the selected passage an invitation to reading the entire thing at your leisure because it only makes sense if you do. In the missing part, Jesus used the word that is the theme of this sermon: “Consecrate them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake, I consecrate myself, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.” (John 17:17-19)
In the context of the Catholic Church (and other episcopal denominations), we tend to consider bishops, priests, deacons, religious nuns, and monks as those to whom consecration applies. It’s undoubtedly true, and in response to the havoc caused by the Reformation, such thinking was justifiably and understandably reinforced. However, this special priestly prayer by Jesus at the Last Supper cast a wider net than the small group of his closest disciples: “I pray not only for these but for those also who through their words will believe in me.” (John 17:20) Each one of us here has been consecrated in baptism to be “the salt of the earth […] and the light of the world, […] so that [others] may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:13-16) In the sacrament of confirmation, we were consecrated to play and fulfil our respective roles in the community of the Church. Sacramental marriage consecrated you as the best spouses and parents, while my priestly ordination consecrated me to serve you in a specific role. The sacraments of reconciliation, the Eucharist and the sacrament of the sick renew and fortify the initial consecration of baptism.
We need the latter because we either let such consecration slip away or make it the reason for our sense of superiority. The Apostles failed at their first hurdle, just a few hours after Jesus’ prayer of consecration, when they dispersed in fear, and Simon Peter even publicly, under oath, three times denied knowing Jesus. Consecration doesn’t guarantee invincibility in the face of troubles or infallibility in making decisions. Our consecration is a guarantee that we can learn from our mistakes and find the strength to persevere in hardships because we can hold to this promise made by Jesus: “For their sake, I consecrate myself, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.” (John 17:17-19)
Image by James Henry from Pixabay
