Lance taught our class on Sunday, and his topic was miracles: how they occur daily and how we know this; how believing some things means we automatically believe certain other things; how we in the Church are recipients/participants in regular miracles i.e. the Mysteries or Sacraments of baptism and communion. Today we are going to speak of communion. And I'm going to make it personal. Buckle up.
If there is truth in Christ's words about His body broken for us and His blood shed for us, then communion is a miracle. Even if we don't go so far as to believe, as the Catholic Church teaches, that the bread and wine actually become the literal flesh and blood of the physical Christ, the miracle is no less for that. The miracle lies in the manifold purpose of the sacrament.
Communion is where my self-examined soul is cast at Christ's feet and acknowledgement is made of my very real need of His grace. His gift of sacrifice. His flesh. His blood. Without them, my wretched soul is worthy of nothing better than hell because of my misdirected life and wicked choices. My freely chosen sin. My open and repeated choosing of self above all. Self determination has only one end: destruction. So in communion I quiet myself, look into His face - His beautiful face full of love and forgiveness, and choose to accept His gift. I confess my need for it, my unworthiness to receive it on my own merit; I have nothing - nothing - to offer but filthy rags. Then I consciously and thoughtfully step forward, saying "These are my sins, these are why You died. So I could do these stupid, selfish things, and yet live." and "Yes, I will cast my pitiful lot with You. I will bear Your banner. I will pledge You my loyalty. I will accept Your death to cover and wash and clothe me in righteousness. I covenant myself to You again." Then I eat that bit of bread, thinking and saying "Your flesh, Your body, for me." And I take the cup and drink, thinking and saying "Your blood, for me." This is communion for me; my coming into community with God through Christ.
That's part of the miracle.
I have heard many times from the pulpit that communion is not meant to be private or individual, but a public family feast. Here's a bit more of the miracle:
Communion must be private in order to be meaningful. Every soul must be washed anew and joined anew to the heart of God. Every heart must be turned Godward. No-one can do that for you but you. No-one can do it for me but me. If I really partake of communion meaningfully, thoughtfully, and prayerfully, I will emerge a better person because I will have been with Jesus, and have asked and received Him into myself. If you thoughtfully, truly take communion you will emerge a better person. We will be better citizens of His kingdom, and better neighbors in the world. We will be a more Christlike Church. We will care more for each other as members of His body. Because we love Him better, we will love one another better. We just will. We will be in community.
Here's another part of the miracle: Although I am doing this dance alone with Jesus and you are doing your dance alone with Jesus, we are dancing together, along with every other Christian alive or dead, past, present, or future, because His Church exists beyond time. I imagine this thought is too Catholic for our protestant brotherhood to swallow, but it is still true, it is still a miracle, and it is still very very cool.
Having written thus, I think I have a better idea what the good vicar is trying to achieve with the idea of the communion "family meal." I can see here a bit of what we get a picture of in those medieval books (I am thinking here of the Redwall books) where the Badgers and Squirrels are having a meal together on the eve of a hopeless battle; a battle in which many of them will die. In this scenario, they are sharing a deeply meaningful repast, likely passing bread hand-to-hand, sober, mindful of coming death, but alight with a flame of sacrifice for a shared and holy cause. They are devoted to one another, pledging to one another their lives. They are focused. They are communing. This is not what happens at College Heights communion stations.
Pastor has also spoken of how, as he has grown older, it has become so sweet to watch the generations of his family interact. They care for each other with such tenderness, there is so much joy at just being together. This is not what happens at College Heights communion stations.
Obviously I cannot be inside every head at communion time. I cannot read anyone's heart. I do know what I see and what I hear. What I see is a lot of people not sure where they are supposed to go, when to go, or what to do. What I hear is gossip, flirting, scolding, and lunch plans being made -- about what you'd hear in any queue. I can't say that the use of stations isn't or can't be a meaningful way to stage communion. I can say that isn't so for me. I find it awkward, chaotic, distracting, and loud. I don't take communion on communion station days because of this Scripture:
Whoever
therefore eats from the bread of THE LORD JEHOVAH and drinks from his
cup and is unworthy of it, is guilty for the blood of THE LORD JEHOVAH
and for his body. Because of this, let a man search his soul, and then eat of this bread and drink from this cup. For
whoever eats and drinks from it being unworthy, eats and drinks a
guilty verdict into his soul for not distinguishing the body of THE LORD
JEHOVAH. 1 Corinthians 11:23-29, Aramaic Bible in Plain English
Number Three Son suggested I carry a flask and a loaf of Wonder Bread so that, if it's a communion station day, I can go off to a quiet corner and do my communion in the way that fits my conscience. One problem with that idea; College Heights does not have a quiet corner. Anywhere. Ever. But that's a rant for another day.
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