This morning I have been writing a reflection for our upcoming MSA Seed Sampler. I have been reflecting on the meaning of communion and thought that I would share some of my reflections with you. I would love to hear your reflections too. What does communion mean to you
Enjoying Ethiopian meal at the Mustard Seed House
Several months ago our good friends Melody and Gil George cooked a wonderful Ethiopian meal for us. The delicious hot and spicy sauces were spooned onto platters spread with layers of the Ethiopian flatbread injera. More mounds of injera dotted the table waiting for us to tear off pieces with our fingers so that we could scoop up the wonderful berbere flavoured wots. By the end of the meal all that remained on the platter were broken pieces of injera soaked with the remains of the sauces.
As we gathered the empty platters I was struck by how much this meal must have resembled meals Jesus ate with his disciples and those other friends of his – the tax collectors and prostitutes. Bread was far more than an adjunct to their meals, it was the very heart of their shared life together. The bread was broken so that people could share together the nourishment they needed to sustain life. And as the bread was broken there was implicit in the act, a sharing of hospitality, of togetherness and of community. Anybody who ate from their table, friend or stranger, rich or poor, young or old would enter into this shared community. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that in eating together in this way we had shared in the communion of Christ’s body. “To the Middle Eastern mind-set bread is not just a source of nourishment.” Says Ravi Zacharias. “It is the bearer of much more… It is the means of friendship, celebration and pleasure.”[1]
Contrast this to a church I was in recently in which the elements of the Eucharist were passed around in prepackaged sterile containers filled with a wafer of bread and a sip of grape juice. The only experience we shared together were those sounds we made as we ripped the covers off the communion elements. And even those were muted by our embarrassment at disturbing the quiet atmosphere of the moment. No wonder the congregation hurried away afterwards with barely a thought for those with whom they had shared the pews.
I wonder how much we limit the celebration of our faith by partaking of the bread and the wine of communion in a sterile environment that disconnects us from the enjoyment of God in the midst of everyday life? For most of us, the celebration of the bread and the wine of the Eucharist no longer draws us into the wonder of communion with Christ and the intimacy of enjoying his presence in all of life’s celebrations an struggles. In fact often it disconnects us.
I love Sara Miles recent book Take This Bread, in which she too grapples with the meaning of communion in the midst of everyday life. “It wasn’t a private meal,” she reflects. “The bread on that Table had to be shared with everyone in order for me to really taste it. And sharing it meant I was going to be touching Christ’s body at St Gregory’s… Looking into Christ’s eyes outside the church through the cheery yuppie with the sports car and the veiled Muslim clerk at Walgreens. Listening to Christ’s voice in other churches… I was going to get communion, whether I wanted it or not, with people I didn’t necessarily like.” p97
For the early church, communion was about celebrating the great feast of life together, not just with each other but also with God who gave this gift of life to all who shard in the meal. Hospitality was central to faith because was a reminder of the fact that in the sharing of food Christ was present in our midst. More than that, as all sat down together the barriers between rich and poor, slave and free, male and female were dissolved. The sharing of meal opened a doorway to the wonders of God’s eternal world in which we will one day all feast together at the great banquet celebration of God.
I think it is time we rediscovered the true hope and celebration of communion as it was understood by early followers of Christ. What a wonderful hope we look forward to every time we share a meal and recognize that Christ sits down at the table with us. And as we pass round the food it is his life that we are sharing. It is his life that nourishes our bodies and our spirits, drawing us together into a community of love and mutual care in which once more all barriers are broken down and we share together of the abundance and shalom of God’s kingdom.
[1] Jesus Among the Other Gods, Ravi Zachariias p87
Filed under: Books, celebration & recipes, Christianity, Hospitality, Kingdom of God, life, Rhythms of life, spirituality Tagged: | celebration, communion, Ehtiopian food, Eucharist, life, Sara Miles
I have often felt there was something missing, but couldn’t put my finger on it. I’m sure our pastor has too, as sometimes he has using Gator-Aid in an effort to try to stir things up. I’d like to forward this to him. Thank-you for sharing this.
Your welcome. Let me know what his response is
I find my thinking about communion so often goes back to a quote from Wolfgang Simpson (Houses That Change the World): ‘We’ve taken a substantial meal with symbolic meaning and turned it into a symbolic meal with substantial meaning.” I think at least part of Jesus’ intention was that we would recognize his presence in the midst of a shared meal like the one you describe, not just in the religious ceremony that seems so far removed from the meals we eat. Of course, in our culture, some of us need to rediscover the blessing of sharing a meal rather than grabbing something from the drive-thru (but that’s another post).
Maria,
A great quote and I agree that part of the problem is that many of us no longer know how to share a meal in any shape or form. We see hospitality as a major part of our ministry and I have learned so much through that about what it means to be in communion with both God and others.
[...] As we gathered the empty platters I was struck by how much this meal must have resembled meals Jesus ate with his disciples and those other friends of his – the tax collectors and prostitutes. Bread was far more than an adjunct to their meals, it was the very heart of their shared life together. The bread was broken so that people could share together the nourishment they needed to sustain life. And as the bread was broken there was implicit in the act, a sharing of hospitality, of togetherness and of community. Anybody who ate from their table, friend or stranger, rich or poor, young or old would enter into this shared community. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that in eating together in this way we had shared in the communion of Christ’s body.“To the Middle Eastern mind-set bread is not just a source of nourishment.” Says Ravi Zacharias. “It is the bearer of much more… It is the means of friendship, celebration and pleasure.” Read the entire article [...]