Therefore, We Praise Him

Dear Friends,

As most of you know, I spent last week in upstate New York with a few seminary friends, learning about their contexts of ministry and taking a few days to rest and reflect after Easter. It was a great week.

Last Sunday, I had the honor of preaching at one of my friends' churches. I enjoyed preaching—especially the pulpit, which seemed to have been built for someone of my stature!—but I especially enjoyed my role at the Eucharist. I wasn't presiding over the Eucharist, and I didn't help distribute the bread, so I was able to take it all in a little bit more. A particular line of the prayers jumped out at me in a different way than it usually does.

Therefore we praise you, joining our voices with Angels and Archangels and with all the company of heaven, who for ever sing this hymn to proclaim the glory of your Name.

I wonder how many times I've said that part of the prayer. Hundreds, for sure. Thousands, probably.

And yet, it struck me in a brand new way in that different context. I typically focus in on the "Angels and Archangels and … all the company of heaven." It reminds me that, at the Eucharist, we are joining the great prayer of all the saints who've gone before. It reminds me that as we draw near to the altar we do so with the famous saints who've lived in ages past, the nameless holy ones whom the world has forgotten, and our own beloved departed saints as well.

That is, no doubt, an encouraging, amazing aspect of the prayer. But it wasn't my focus last Sunday. Instead it was that little phrase, "Therefore we praise you."

We.

I was immediately aware that this "we" praising God wasn't just the faithful people gathered there in Hamilton, New York. It was all the saints on earth. It was the Christians gathered in the cathedral in Florida where I discerned my call to ordained ministry. It was my dear seminary classmates, celebrating the Eucharist at their own altars across this country. It was Christians in Sri Lanka, gathering in defiance of the threats of violence.

It was you, worshiping in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

I watched a girl come forward to receive the bread, and she stretched out her hands to receive it, lifting them high as though she couldn't get Jesus quickly enough. And I remembered the way one of our children does the exact same thing, smiling brightly as I say, "The body of Christ, the bread of heaven."

My friend walked to give communion to one of the faithful saints gathered there who couldn't make his way to the altar, and I thought of the countless times I've done that same thing.

I watched the faces of the people—the same kinds of faces I've seen at St. Peter's. Some full of joy, some with tears streaming down, some with looks of utter boredom, and all of them God's holy people called to receive God's holy gifts.

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What I'm trying to say is that it made me thankful. It made me thankful to be a part of that great "we," the saints of God throughout time and space. And particularly it made me thankful for all of you. It is a joy to be the priest at St. Peter's. It is a joy to worship and serve God with you. It is a joy to know I and my family are nurtured by the love of Christ known through all of you in this place. Thank you.

Therefore, we praise him.

God bless,

Fr. Quinn+