I became a follower of Christ at the tender age of five. No, really. It was so real to me that I still feel almost the same emotion as I did when I knelt in the little country church of my childhood and asked Jesus to forgive me and be my Savior.
But communion was another matter. My mother was very concerned that this was a sacred ordinance and that I must wait until I understood what it meant to partake of it. So I sat, pooch-mouthed while all my friends and family took the tiny cup and thumbnail sized-wafers when the special silver plates were passed around. I was so very joyful when I finally was deemed old enough at age seven to receive this sacred feast.
Over the years, I sort of lost the wonder of this ritual. I have always seen it as holy and was mortified when my own daughter was found knocking back shots of grape juice after church one day, given permission by the old saint who was in charge of cleaning it up! Bless…
But in the past few years, it has grown to hold such a special place in my heart that I can hardly breathe when I partake of it. The symbolism has grown to be so rich and powerful that I could sit for hours just trying to take it all in before I finally place the bread in my mouth and swallow the wine or juice.
Recently, my current church was finally ready to offer communion once more, after COVID-19 seemed to put so many special celebrations on hold. I took my place in line as it moved fairly rapidly to the front of the church, where I was at first shocked to see the sterile presentation of the elements. I quickly recalled that it made sense in light of the potential contamination that we could no longer break from the same loaf, nor dip our crumbs into the same cup. But I returned to my seat with my lidded plastic cup and tiny zip locked wafer and felt like crying. Even this?? It took a minute for me to get past it, but then suddenly, I heard the Spirit say, “Debbie, nothing can distract from the power and unity represented in my offering. Take, eat, and be glad.”
A few days later I encountered this passage while participating in the 23rd week of the Ignatian Exercises: Matthew 26:17-30, which relates the story of Jesus breaking bread with the disciples for their last supper together. During this section of the exercises, I am to consider journeying with Jesus through the days leading up to his crucifixion as his friend.
I recalled the Sunday prior, and there was just such a huge difference in what I saw happening in the scripture and the carefully isolated elements I had partaken that day. Yet, there was the same encouragement from the scripture as I pondered these things.
Being a friend to Jesus is about sharing his nourishment with each other and encouraging each other with his truth and mission. It is about a communal receiving of the ratification of his promise into our very being. The first covenant was sealed with an outward sprinkling of the blood of sacrificed animals. But now, it is to begin on the inside.
Now more than ever it is expedient that we remember the unity and dependance on each other that this ordinance represents.
On that Sunday and now as I write, I am filled with a sense of victory, and a challenge to do whatever I can to stay connected to Christ’s body! Yes, the state of our world may mandate that we serve communion in sealed containers, or possibly participate in worship remotely, but it does not mean that the unity Jesus paid for has lost its extreme power and importance! Let’s look for every opportunity to remain united as his sacrifice has made possible and his heart longs for. I cannot be a friend to Jesus without remaining in fellowship with others who make up his Body.