1 Corinthians 12:12–27
John 17:21–23
“Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.”
On July 4, 2004, I knelt at the altar in Sts Constantine and Helen Cathedral in Chicago and was ordained to the Priesthood in God’s Church. As the youngest priest, I took my place on the right side of the bishop who had just ordained me and participated in the consecration of the bread and wine that would be used for Communion for the first time.
At one point in the service, the bishop turned to me and asked me to hold out my hands. As I did, he placed a portion of the consecrated bread in my hands, saying, “Take this and guard it until it is needed.” I was then led around to the backside of the altar, bread in hand, where I waited until the bishop came to retrieve me.
Standing there in the silence, looking down at what was in my hands, I had a sense of warmth surrounding me. I was concentrating on the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, the first Communion, when he said, “Do this.” That was more than twenty years ago, and I am still pondering those words, “do this.”
Today is World Communion Sunday, so I thought this would be a good opportunity to discuss the Sacrament of Communion.
Our most basic understanding of Communion comes from the Last Supper. There they were all gathered for one last time. Jesus had called them together from all walks of life. They were fishermen, tax collectors, beggars, young, old, short, fat; you name it, they were there. They had been together for three years. They had walked thousands of miles, healed the sick, fed the hungry, clothed the naked, enabled the blind to see, the lame to walk, and even raised a man from the dead. No one was ever excluded from what they were doing. They showed love and compassion to all, equally, and without condition.
But here they are, those closest to him, gathered in a rented room on the second floor of a house, having one last meal together. Seated with Jesus at this table is the one who would deny him three times. Also, sitting at this table with him is the one who will betray him and turn Jesus over to the authorities, who will eventually kill him. Jesus knows all this, yet there they are, all seated together.
He takes ordinary bread in his hands, holds it up, and asks God to bless it. Jesus then breaks this bread into pieces and passes it around so that everyone might have some. As he gives this bread, made from the elements of the earth, around the table, he tells them that this bread is his body that will be broken and shared for all.
Then he takes a cup, a simple cup, perhaps one that he had been drinking from during the meal. Jesus fills it with wine and again holds it up in the air towards the heavens, asking God to bless it. As Jesus passes this cup around the table, he tells those present that what is in this cup is his blood that will be poured out for all, why, for the forgiveness of sins.
From St. Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians, we understand that Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” But what is this that we are supposed to do?
There are many theories about what takes place during the Lord’s Supper. Hundreds of thousands of hours have been spent discussing what happens. Does it become the actual body and blood of Christ? Is Jesus really present in these elements? Is this just a memorial of what was done during that Last Supper? I am not sure if there is an answer or if one is needed. I just know that something special happens during that sacred moment.
So important was this time that the Reformers singled out Communion, along with baptism, as one of two sacraments. Just as a reminder, a sacrament is defined as “the outward sign of an inward grace and the means by which we receive it.” There is a grace given to us by God when we take this bread and this cup into our bodies. We are literally welcoming Jesus into our very existence.
There is a saying in Celtic theology and spirituality that heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but there are thin places where that distance is even closer. There are those places or times in life when we close that gap between our existences here on earth and heaven. I believe when we celebrate Communion, we are in one of those thin places. Spiritually, it is as if heaven itself comes down and meets us, and we are transported to another plane of existence for the briefest of moments. This celebration of Communion becomes a sacred space where something spiritually extraordinary happens.
But we still have not answered the question of what the “this” is in the command to “do this in remembrance of me.” Again, theologians have been trying to answer this question, and there are many theories about the bread and cup, but I think it transcends a simple meal and is again related to the concept of the thin places.
Let’s go back and look at who was at that table: those closest to Jesus, those He had called to “follow him” and work alongside Him in His ministry. Those gathered with Jesus were simple people, with little to no formal education, but with a desire to seek and find. Again, sitting around that table was the one who would deny him and the one who would betray him. There were those on both ends of the political spectrum and those in the middle. Young and old represented at this table, I also believe, the Da Vinci painting notwithstanding, that there were some women there as well. Surely his mother would have been there, and some of the others who followed him. The bottom line is that no one was excluded from that table. So, perhaps “do this” means not excluding anyone.
But what about the action of breaking and sharing of the bread and cup? Jesus says that the bread represents His body, and the contents of the cup represent His blood. Does this mean we are to perform human sacrifice? I do not believe so. Or does it mean that we are to sacrifice everything for others, for those in need, for those on the margins, and those in horrible places? Does it mean that we should share all that we have with everyone, including our very lives? I think we’re getting closer here.
I am often asked about my theology of the Communion. The questions usually focus on what I thought happened during Communion. My answer is usually something along the lines of ‘it does not matter what happens at the table, what matters is what happens after the table.’ In other words, I am not concerned about whether a change takes place here, among the bread and the juice we have laid out for the celebration today; I am concerned about the change that takes place in you and me. The miracle, if you will, is not in some magic words prayed over bread and wine; the magic, the transformative power of the Holy Spirit, is the miracle when it changes us.
Our focus should not be on what happens here but instead on what it was that Jesus was asking us to do. I believe he was asking us to repeat what he did in that upper room on his last night with his Apostles, but I also think he was asking us to “Do” more.
In what we call the “Words of Institution” that you will hear later in this service, Jesus speaks about a covenant, a new covenant, a covenant in his blood.
Jesus is saying something like: “This cup is the new covenant, and it cost my blood.”
A covenant relationship is one entered into by two or more people. The old relationship between God and the people was based on the law; there was a condition that the law had to be kept. With Jesus, the new covenant is based on love and is not dependent on keeping the law; it is founded on the free grace of God’s love, offered to all.
However, this new covenant goes much deeper than that, as it is accompanied by the “Do This…” directive. So, what then is this “Do this?”
As followers of Jesus, we believe that we are to imitate his life as best we can in our daily lives. We believe that the bible has been given to us not as a science or history book, but as a guide for how we should live. My personal belief is that this should not be taken literally, but rather left to us as an example of what we should strive to do.
Jesus comes as the fulfillment of the law; no longer are we bound to obey the letter of the law. Now, we have the Spirit of the Law that guides us. We are to do what Jesus did, and that is our imitation.
Jesus cared for the least among them and frequently spoke about it. He does not seek power; in fact, the only time he “hangs out” with the powerful is when he is standing before Pilate before his crucifixion. He was born humbly in a small town in the Roman Empire and had to flee to another country to save his life. He ministered to the marginalized, not to the powerful.
Jesus was found with the less desirable of the population: prostitutes, tax collectors, beggars, lepers, women, Samaritans, and all the rest. He was reaching out to and ministering to people who had no place in the temple, they had no seat at the table, and no one was listening to them. He healed the sick, pardoned those that humanity had cast out, and, in the end, it cost him his life. Make no mistake about it, Jesus was killed by the powerful because he threatened their way of life. Sure, he went willingly to the Cross, but it was those in power who murdered him.
The power of the image of the Last Supper is that they were all together—all of them, not just the “right” ones but all of them. Communion, or the act of sharing in this Sacrament, is supposed to bring people together. We are not supposed to set up artificial barriers and say who is and who is not worthy; that is not our job.
Paul, in the reading we heard this morning, wrote about unity despite our differences. One of the reasons I am no longer part of this Church that ordained me is because of closed Communion. This idea that you had to belong to the club, say the right words, be the right sort of person, etc., to be worthy of approaching and sharing this meal. I argue that it is the meal itself that makes us deserving of these simple elements on this table and provides what is necessary for us to “do this.” “Do this” is not what we do in here. “Do this” is what we do out there!
But for me, the “do this” is summed up best in the Gospel of Matthew:
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’.'” (Matthew 25:37-40)
Who are we to minister to? The least of these. Who do we care for? The least of these. Who are we to consider our neighbors? The least of these.
Francis of Assisi is often quoted as saying, “Preach the gospel every day, sometimes use words.” A person’s faith is not contained in a book; a person’s faith is held in dogma; a person’s faith is not even contained in bread and wine. A person’s faith is contained in how they treat the least of these.
Do have concern for the least of these. Do have concern for the poor and needy. Do have concern for the stranger among us. Do have concern for those who look different than us. Do have concern for the widows and orphans. Do have concern for those affected by storms, physical, mental, and natural. Do have concern for those affected by war. Do have concern for those yearning to have the same rights that you and I have. Do be concerned that we are not holding people to the letter of the law when we should be showing the spirit of the law. Do be concerned with and love your neighbor;
Your homeless neighbor
Your Muslim neighbor
Your black neighbor
Your gay neighbor
Your white neighbor
Your Jewish neighbor
Your Christian neighbor
Your Atheist neighbor
Your racist neighbor
Your addicted neighbor
Why? Because Jesus said, “Do This” in remembrance of me!
