Celebrating a Patriarchal Eucharist

This article was first published the Fight Laugh Feast magazine.

It’s been said that in the Lord’s Supper, the church practices life the way it really ought to be lived. When we do the Lord’s Supper right, we do life right. When the church is what she is supposed to be, gathered around the Lord’s table, giving thanks, and sharing a meal, she is the model community. What we do at the table spills over into the rest of life and shapes the wider culture.  

If someone were to walk into an orthodox, Reformed church service off the street, what would be most noticeable about the way we do the Eucharist? One thing that would certainly grab attention in today’s climate (and frankly, in the ancient Greco-Roman world as well) is that a man presides over the meal, possibly even a uniformed man. He is aided by other men, usually elders and perhaps deacons, who control access to the meal and the distribution of the meal. Why does the church have a man playing this role of leader and provider in the service? Why does the church’s liturgy embody male leadership? To understand why this is fitting, we must go back to the beginning, to the original sanctuary and sacrament in the Garden of Eden.

In the Genesis creation account, we find God made the man first. As first-made, he would be the head and representative; the race would derive its name from him. God gave the man, Adam, the command to not eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Later that day, God created the woman, which means Adam would have to be her teacher, informing her of the divine prohibition.

Adam and his wife were not only the first married couple, they were also the first pastor and congregation. He was to be her protector, provider, leader, and teacher. The man was to rule his wife and together they would rule the lower creation. They were free to feast on the Tree of Life even as they fasted from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. As her head and pastor, he would be the one to teach her the divine law and he would feed her the sacramental food.

But in Genesis 3, everything goes wrong. The serpent becomes the woman’s teacher and pastor, deceiving her. She becomes a pastorette, feeding her husband the forbidden food, trusting Satan’s word rather than God’s Word (mediated through her husband). The man stands by watching passively, effeminately, rather than actively protecting and providing. The serpent they were supposed to have dominion over comes to have dominion over them. As the woman fell for the satanic, diabolical lie, “You shall not die; you shall be as God,” and as the man failed to be a responsible and faithful head over her, a series of role reversals unfolded that undermined the entire created order (cf. 1 Timothy 2:9-15).

Of course, we have been dealing with the ramifications of the fall ever since. Feminism and egalitarianism are attempts to codify and normalize the fallen order, in rebellion against the original creational order. These errors still creep into the sanctuary, with disastrous consequences. So for example, every time a church allows a woman to preside over the Eucharist, the fall of Genesis 3 is being re-enacted; a woman serving the sacramental meal (especially to men) means Satan’s lies are still being believed. It is not surprising that in a culture in which churches began ordaining women to the pastorate a couple generations ago, we now have complete sexual chaos and confusion, so much so that we cannot even define what a man is, what a woman is, or what a marriage is. Everything in culture is downstream from the sanctuary; when the river is polluted at its liturgical fountainhead, the entire culture turns toxic, which is what we seeing right now.

Feminism and egalitarianism can be considered Christian heresies (after all, such movements never arise in Muslim or Hindu nations, only those influenced by Christian faith).  They take elements of biblical truth and twist that truth out of shape. For example, egalitarianism emphasizes equality between men and women. And it true that men and women are equal in certain senses: we equally share God’s image, we equally share in the curse of sin, we equally share in Christ’s redemption as co-heirs. But egalitarianism insists that equality means sameness. If men and women are really equal, then women must be able to do anything men can do. If a woman cannot be a pastor, it is a great injustice according to egalitarianism. But this is simply false. Equality does not mean sameness. Men and women are different, and those differences are fundamental to who we are and the roles we are called to play. While men and women overlap in all kinds of ways, we are not the same and we are not interchangeable. The reality of our sexual differences is every bit as important as the ways in which we are equal. The story God is telling includes male and female characters by design. The gospel, which essentially the story of a husband laying down his life to win and rescue his submissive bride, cannot be understood apart from understanding sexual differentiation. A culture that is confused about sexuality and marriage will also be confused about the gospel, and vice versa.

If the Lord’s Supper is about the restoration of human life to the way it really ought to be, then we should expect both sexual equality and differentiation to be highlighted. There is certainly an element of eucharistic equality. We all come to the table as hungry beggars to be filled by Christ. At the table, men and women partake of the same food together. Young and old eat the same bread and wine. The CEO and the janitor share a meal. We all need Christ and we all share in Christ.  But at the same time, the meal displays the reality that God designed men for leadership, and so the meal also has hierarchical and patriarchal features. A man presides (indeed, a qualified man, per 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1, if the church is serious about obeying God’s Word). A man stands in persona Christi, representing Jesus and feeding us Jesus. At the table, men act as providers and guardians of the bride, the congregation. And this has implications for the rest of life because the church is the model society. The Eucharist contains not just an ecclesiology, but an economics and a politics. It is a microcosm of what God wants the world to be. The church is a family and every family has a head of household. While the Lord Jesus Christ is the ultimate Head of Household for the church, pastors (and elders) are deputized as heads of local congregations. This bias towards male leadership is sometime called “patriarchy,” meaning “father rule.” If patriarchy is a feature of church life – particularly of the Eucharist – we can be assured that God wants all of life to reflect patriarchal principles and patterns. God expects men to exert leadership in church, family, and society at large. The way this gets worked out can vary from one culture to another, but any healthy culture will reflect God’s patriarchal design: men will lead in a loving, sacrificial, responsible Christ-like way; women will learn to use their gifts  and pursue their God-ordained callings within this context of male leadership.

Flowing out of the church’s gathering, a good illustration of what eucharistic patriarchy looks like in every day life is found in Psalm 128. Psalm 128 describes the ideal family, sharing a meal. It is clearly follows the same pattern as the Eucharist. The Psalm describes the life of the blessed, God-fearing man; this man is the head of his household, responsible to provide and protect. This man is a true patriarch – and the whole psalm is written from his perspective. The possessive pronouns prove the point: they eat his bread (“the fruit of the labor of your hands”) at the table, in his house. He is with his wife and his children. He has ownership, and therefore both authority over and responsibility for his family.

All that to say: The liturgy of the Lord’s Supper provides a blueprint for all of life. Eucharistic celebrations each Lord’s Day give rise to a Eucharistic culture – a culture in which we regularly acknowledge our need for Christ and share his gifts with one another. But a Eucharistic culture is also a patriarchal culture. It is a culture that acknowledges the role of men (and especially fathers) as leaders, protectors, and providers. That, after all, is the way things really ought to be.