Communion Part 3

 

The names of the organs of sense are frequently applied to the soul, so that it may be said to see with the eyes of the heart … so it is said to hear with the ears when it perceives the deeper meaning of a statement. For this reason we also say that it makes use of teeth when it chews and eats the bread of life which comes down from heaven.  Origen A.D. 230

 

One of the powerful parts of communion is that Christians have been celebrating this sacrament for centuries.  The quote from the early Christian writer, Origen, above reminds us that people have reflected on what communion means since the very beginning.  And, because the church is a very human institution, we have also been arguing about communion and the “right” way or “my preference” since the very beginning too.  In Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth, we hear this:

 

For, in the first place, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you. And I believe it in part, ¹⁹ for there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized. ²⁰ When you come together, it is not the Lord's supper that you eat. ²¹ For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal. One goes hungry, another gets drunk. ²² What! Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? (1 Corinthians 11:18-22)

 

It isn’t just the modern-day church that likes to argue/debate/disagree on everything.  That is as old as our earliest ancestors.  In Corinth, we hear that some people stuff themselves with food.  Imagine someone taking a whole handful of bread and gulping down the whole cup/chalice of juice, not leaving anything for the next person in line.  Imagine some people not receiving anything, while someone else is finishing off the bottle of Trader Joe’s wine in the sacristy.  What was happening in Corinth was that individual preferences were dominating the discussion.  What was happening in Corinth was that the rules of meals from Roman culture were laid over communion ~ where the wealthier people ate first until they were full and the lower class or servants at last with whatever crumbs were left over. This leaves Paul with smoke billowing from his ears.  Paul says that in Christ all our differences and distinctions fall away.  There is no longer wealthy and poor; there is no longer religiously righteous and outcast; there is no longer male or female.  Christ bursts and breaks down the walls we try to build religiously, culturally, economically, and societally.  We, in turn, start building those barriers and blockades again and again. 

 

What does it mean that at Christ’s table all are welcome?  What does it mean that your faith has teeth and tongue that can either be used to include or exclude?  How does communion reorder and re-author your life every month?  May we continue to dive and dwell in the invitation to gather at Christ’s name (not yours or mine or any church/denomination/religious authority) with an openness and curiosity of God’s meeting and moving in and through us.  Amen.

Communion Part 2

 

Sacraments are ritual actions in worship which, according to Scripture, were instituted by Jesus. In the sacraments of baptism and communion we ask the Holy Spirit to use water, bread, and wine to make visible the grace, forgiveness, and presence of God in Christ.  From the UCC Website

 

There are a variety of ways to celebrate communion; each way communicates something a little different.  The method matters and makes a difference.  For example, this summer, we observed communion through intinction.  You came forward, took a piece of bread, dipped it into a cup of juice, and ate.  What you may not have realized is that this form of communion was about God meeting you individually where you are.  When observed this way, communion is about God’s love enfolding us and sustaining us individually.  The unconditional grace found in bread and juice is elastic and expansive; it is diverse to meet your uniqueness.  This is why I invite you, when you come forward, to form your hands into the shape of a cup ~ this is a receiving posture.  In your hands is your life, which God meets and blesses.  I will add that this reminds us we move toward God.  Recall the parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15, where the younger son makes the journey back to the home/family he left behind.  One step toward God, and God starts running toward us. 

Contrast that with the way our church practiced communion before COVID, which was passing the bread and tray of cups down the pew.  There was relatively little movement in this way of celebrating communion.  This way reminds us that we can be surprised by grace.  Sometimes we stub our toe on grace without ever intending to do so.  Grace meets us, not because of our agenda or our will, but because of God’s will.  Moreover, often, I would have you all hold the bread until everyone received it so we could eat together, and the same with the cup.  This emphasized the community of communion, the connection of our whole church to the Creator.   

Last Sunday, we mixed and matched these two ways of communion.  You were still invited forward to receive the cup of grace that you carried back to the pew, and then we ate together.  I reminded you of those who worship online because we connected not only to the person beside us, behind us, but also to the very people not in the room, who join us from their homes.  Christ’s table connected to kitchen tables and living room end tables through the screen of livestreaming. 

Pause today, remembering that all theology is autobiographical, that we all have opinions and preferences that we want others to agree with; can you see a time and place for each way of communion?  Sometimes, we need communion with God on an individual level; we need to recall God’s blessing of belovedness on us as uniquely created in God’s image.  Other times, it is good to practice communion as a community ~ the Spirit weaving a thread from my heart to yours to someone worshiping with us in Illinois.  Ponder not only your preferences, but 

Communion

 

I remember I was sitting with my confirmation class in the front pew at Urbandale UCC the first time I took communion.  I was thirteen.  I vividly recall spilling a few drops of Welch’s grape juice from the thimble-sized cup onto my khaki pants, leaving a stain.  I remember a youth retreat with grapes and animal crackers for communion.  I remember a clergy group in the North Carolina mountains where an Episcopal priest led us through the beautiful liturgy as the sun was setting outside the windows of the chapel, soaking us in the warmth of the sacred.

 

What memories of communion do you carry in your soul?

 

Throughout our last series on the Creeds, I said that all theology is autobiographical.  What we say about God says more about us than it does about the One who spoke creation into being.  Like God, we try to bring order to the chaos of the ineffable.  There is always a more-than-ness of the Divine.  What do you feel, hear, experience, and respond to when we gather around Christ’s table?  What moments from the past mix and mingle with the present as you took the bread and grape yesterday?  You carry around cardboard boxes of memories that are evoked and provoked when you are invited to the table.  Most of these memories might swim beneath the surface of your consciousness, until you intentionally and prayerfully go to the storage of your soul to rummage around that box of the past.  What positive experiences of communion do you have?  What negative feelings get caught in the back of your throat when you think about communion?  Maybe it was an early experience of being welcomed at the table that warms your heart.  Or the time you were at a service and the pastor made it clear that non-members were not welcome to partake ~ as if you needed a membership card to receive the bread and juice.

 

Pause with me: what memories of communion are stirred up when God invites you to the table? 

 

Fun theological nerd point: communion is often called Eucharist ~ which means ~ thanksgiving.  Communion is God’s self-giving love.  Communion is us tasting on the tip of our tongue who and whose we are ~ we are God’s beloved.  Note the intentional use of plural in the last sentence.  It isn’t just you; communion is about community.  The early church celebrated communion every week to recall, remember, and receive a tactile blessing, in the form of food, from God.   Okay, seminary lesson is done.

 

Today, recall an experience of communion.  What made the moment meaningful?  Don’t worry if it seems difficult to describe.  There is a mystery to communion.  Through bread and juice, we are connected to the One who creates us and loves us.  Words often want to raise their hands and be excused because they cannot carry the weight of what it means to taste God’s love.  I invite you, encourage you, even implore you, to go get a piece of bread/cracker or cookie and a cup of juice, water, coffee, or whatever you have in your cupboard.  Take a breath, ask for God’s blessing on the ordinary, everyday items from your pantry, then slowly take of this meal that reminds you of God’s love meeting you right where you are today.  Amen.

Prayer

 

God, the wisdom writer of Ecclesiastes, was right: there is so much we encounter in life that can evaporate quickly.  We cannot cling to the mist of moments in our life.  At the same time, we can still feel the wetness of the past.  Life is lived in paradox; the both/and reality.  There is birth and death; joy and pain; hope and despair.  Meet us where we are today.  Meet us especially in what we carry, which is contradictory and complex.  For moments of laughter and lament, for times of digging in and wondering why bother, for experiences that fill us and those that drain us.  You are there in, though, around, and beneath our whole lives.  Continue to move and breathe in us each day this November as we awaken to the mystery and marvel of our lives.  Amen.  

New

 

What is one new thing you tried this year?  Could be a food, visiting a place, or a friendship that was planted in the soil of 2026.  What is one new thought you had this year?  Could be a book you read, a podcast, a conversation, or a hymn/painting/poem you wrote.  What is one new way you experienced the Sacred?  I mean, besides my sermons.  Just kidding.  We are constantly becoming.  Some of this is welcomed, and some is not.  On Monday, we named that the negative can stick to our memories like Velcro.  This shapes us.  Your mom was right again; you are what you eat.  But this applies not only to food for breakfast, but also to the news, social media, conversations, and connections with others.  What you consume becomes part of you.  Sometimes we cannot control what we encounter.  A medical illness we did not want, a divorce that breaks our hearts, trust that is shattered, and countless other ways life is like the weather we cannot predict or control.  And at the same time, we do have agency in our response.  Life can be complicated and contradictory.  I can acknowledge hurt and hope; I can hold both moments of human wounding words and human healing actions. 

 

What has stirred hope in you this year?  Perhaps it was an event.  I have been blessed by a group of new friends in a continuing education experience.  I have been blessed by being drenched in your singing on Sundays.  I have felt your love.  This is as true and trustworthy as the hurtful/hateful things I hear on the news.  It is not either/or, but both/and.  Today, sit with hope as you glance back at your calendar, naming and noticing where the Holy One knocked on the door of your heart for an unexpected visit.  May you find a new thing to try this week that would delight God.  Amen.

Who We are Becoming

 

The Bible is an adult book written for adults, so said C.S. Lewis.  Eugene Peterson said that telling someone to go read the Bible alone was like giving a ten-year-old keys to your luxury car.  The Bible doesn’t hold back on the issues of brokenness, becoming, and belonging.  In chapter 4, we hear how Cain kills Abel.  The story is confounding, complex, and contradictory.  First, you have God apparently more pleased with Abel’s offering than Cain’s.  This can touch a nerve because I can be lured and led into thinking that God likes other pastors’ sermons better than mine.  God gives an “A” to the preacher down the street while saying, “Needs LOTS of improvement!!” in red ink on my sermon.  We all rate and rank each other; often we end up with the short end of the stick.  After Cain murders Abel, God confronts Cain about the violence.  Cain denies and defends himself.  Cain doesn’t honestly say to God, “It was because You liked him better, God!”  How often do we act out because we believe God is blessing someone else more?  Notice that God doesn’t give in to violence or revenge.  God marks Cain to protect him.  Wait, what?  Is God going to let this murderer off the hook?  How is that just?  How is that holy?  I don’t know.  I am troubled by this story and continue to be heartbroken that we repeat it today.  We dismiss and deny our human siblings who are immigrants, returning citizens from prison, LGBTQIA+, beloved whose shade of skin is not white or whose accent is not Midwestern. 

 

Who are we becoming is a vital question.  And the twin question this week is to look at the groups that you belong to.  Let’s be specific: how has our church shaped you this year?  Please be honest about the good and bad parts.  Humans are not perfect, and this especially applies to me as a pastor.  I will do boneheaded things that I regret; I will say things I want to pull from the air and shove back in my mouth!

 

Keep exploring the ways you’re belonging and becoming.  You are both unique, and you have a deep desire to connect in ways so twisted and tangled, like the Christmas lights you will soon be pulling out of storage.  May you sense the Sacred stirring, supporting, and sustaining such prayerful reflection.  Amen.

A Holy Woundedness

 

God took one of Earthling’s ribs and closed up its place with flesh. (Genesis 2:21)

 

Relationships are not all chocolate rivers and pony rides.  If you have spent any time around other featherless bipeds, you know this to be true.  Other people can be amazing.  Other people can be annoying.  Other people can be hurtful or helpful or ambivalent.  In Genesis 2, after crafting the first earthling (that is what adam means – a dust/earth being), God recognizes and realizes this being needs a companion, helper, friend, and someone to share life with.  Initially, God makes all the animals as potential friends.  God makes the giraffe, but this animal is too tall for face-to-face conversation.  God makes the porcupine, but the hugs are too painful.  God makes a dog, and everything is perfect, and they live happily ever after.  Even the dog couldn’t quite meet all the humans’ emotional/relational/spiritual/intellectual needs.  So, the first human falls asleep, God performs surgery, removing a rib, creating a wound.  I don’t need to know if this actually happened to know it is true.  Our words wound one another.  Our actions hurt worse than sticks and stones.  We dehumanize one another and turn to violence as the only means too often. 

 

Is there a wound from this last year you are carrying?  Is there a pain that is left unprocessed?  Yesterday, I mentioned open memories.  These are the ones that, when I tell the story of being embarrassed at calling someone the wrong name ten years ago, I still feel my face flood with warmth hot enough to roast a marshmallow.   For you, it could be encountering a situation that is far more traumatic, such as discrimination, violence, hate, or abuse.  Those open memories remind us there are unholy ghosts that haunt us even as Halloween passed last week.  Please note that open memories can still cause us joy too.  Ever tell a story to someone that you cannot finish because you are still laughing so hard your stomach aches?  Both can be true.

 

Today, I invite us to think about an open memory that still hurts ~ could cause your mind to spin so fast you get dizzy, or your heart to race, sounding like the horses at the Kentucky Derby, or making your stomach a bit nauseous.  If you are starting to feel that pain, I want to invite you to place one hand on your heart and another on your belly.  Now take a deep breath and slowly exhale.  Breathe in the breath of God whose love never lets you go and exhale the pain.  Breathe in the promise that you are safe right now and exhale the thoughts that this memory doesn’t need to have the last word.  Ruptures in relationships happen (that is Genesis 3).  Systems are built often on the backs of those we refuse to see: immigrants and those clinging to the last rung of the socio-economic ladder with their fingernails.  Breathe and be.  Trusting that God hears/knows the pain.  This is the truth of Exodus 2:24: God heard their groaning, and God remembered the covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  The word “heard” is not distant or disconnected, but God felt the pain deep in God’s very being.  It is good to point out that God’s plan to resolve this groaning was to send Moses, a wanted criminal who had killed an Egyptian guard in chapter 1 who was beating up/bullying a fellow Israelite.  Because violence begets violence, Moses kills the guard, buries the body in the sand, and tries to cover his tracks, but Pharaoh hears about it and puts up “Wanted for murder” posters on the pyramids. 

 

We all have wounds; some just cover them better.  Today, ponder gently one moment from this year that has not been resolved or reconciled; share that with God.  If you want to talk more about this, reach out to me.  May God’s healing love wrap around you this day.  Amen.