Receiving communion is an act of learning about God. An act we are called to share with people very much not like us. Over and over again.
One of my favorite memories in the first year after my ordination was of a girl, barely 3. She was being raised by her 21-year-old father and 45-year-old grandfather. The Mom was not in the picture. And she would burst through the door each week with pure joy. And shout I’m here to see Jesus! as she raced down the hall. Going to church. And when I would give her communion, she would just shake with joy.
Another important memory is of my son, about the same age. This one Sunday he raced up to take communion with the choir. Then came back for seconds with his mother. And I saw him trying to find a way to get thirds with the ushers who came up last.
When talking about communion, I draw out these memories. And I often tell people that they are teaching us something about communion and we better listen. Because there’s a reason Jesus tells us to listen to children.
That reason is pretty straightforward, isn’t it? Because there is knowledge and understanding children have that we don’t.
But there’s another. One that we don’t want to think about. Jesus tells adults to listen to the wisdom of children precisely because we would rather refuse to do so.
We don’t want to think of our children as full members. They’re not ready. But who else might we find a similar justifiable reason to exclude?
The Episcopal Church hasn’t always been good at this. We’re still not “good“ at this. But we’re trying. We’re trying to listen. We’re trying to hear Jesus in all of our people. All of them.
And the boldness and importance of this witness cannot be overstated.
Separate
We are so often separated from each other. We’re separated into different traditions. I wonder how many traditions are represented here. I know we have Roman Catholics here. We have Orthodox, Lutherans, Episcopalians, Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, Pentecostals, Non-denominational [you rebels]. Maybe some atheists and agnostics. Any Jewish or Muslim brothers and sisters? Who else?
Now, what if we had a big ol’ pot luck with fried chicken, casseroles, pasta salad and we all sat down to eat at some tables [we’d have to get creative to make it one long crazy table]? I think most of us would eat together. Some can’t: allergies or phobias: but dare I say nearly everyone here would eat at a table together?
And we’d let someone, maybe one of us four, but maybe one of you might be invited to say grace—and you would pray to God that this food be blessed to our use and we to God’s service, blessing the hands that made and tended to the food, and keeping us ever mindful of the needs of others. And we would all say Amen! Wouldn’t that be fun?
We would eat together, just like those first followers of the way did, just as Jesus told us to do, remembering and eating. And just as we are promised that wherever two or three are gathered Jesus will be in our midst, so we would be having, in all seriousness, a sacramental moment. A Eucharistic moment.
So why in the world can we not do the same on Sunday? Because we’re already doing it in a thousand different ways.
Open
Presiding Bishop Michael Curry tells the story of a young African American woman inviting a young African American man to come with her to church. This was in the 1940s and deep in the heart of segregated America where black and white could not share the same water fountains.
This Episcopal Church was her church and he was a Baptist, so he didn’t think he could go up and take communion. So the man watched the young woman go up to communion, curious about what he would see. And the priest passed out the bread to everyone. And then he came along with the chalice:
“The Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life. Drink this in remembrance that Christ’s Blood was shed for thee.”
“And he got to the black woman:
“The Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ given for thee, preserve thy body and soul…
“And that man said that any church where black and white drink from the same cup has discovered something I want to be a part of. And that the world needs to learn about.
“That man and that woman were my parents.
“This is a sacrament of unity that overcomes even the deepest estrangements between human beings.”
Together
When the world says who can and who cannot eat and drink together, Christ calls us to bring us all together. Paul says that in Him there is no Jew or Greek—no in or out.
We all have our rules and The Episcopal Church sure has plenty of them. But we’re always revisiting them in light of Christ’s generous grace and his constant commending in Scripture for us to do the same.
I really think Jesus knew what he was doing; eating with the wrong kind of people, ruffling the feathers of those minding the rules. Because we miss something important when we worry about who shouldn’t get communion or how. We’re not listening to all of our voices.
Traditional
In the 1970s The Episcopal Church put the Eucharist, communion, at the center of our worship, so many places that weren’t communing children started to do just that. Which, of course, was controversial. Many were used to a “traditional” practice of waiting until confirmation, which was weird for me to learn since I can’t ever remember not receiving communion.
The late Phyllis Tickle liked to say that we tend to only use the word “traditional” to describe things that are a century old. We don’t need to attribute the weight of history to things that have actually always been.
And I would listen to people’s arguments about wanting children to know about the sacrament and to receive it reverently. I heard reasons which came from an interest in preserving souls and preserving the church. I would listen. And then I would say
“Do you know about the sacrament? How did you come to know? Did you stop learning at 12? How much have you learned since?”
And if I’m feeling really snarky, I’ll invite them to define all that is the sacrament of Holy Eucharist to me right there.
And what happens is that they won’t. Because they feel they can’t. Even at 74 years-old. They don’t feel qualified themselves. So a child must not be qualified either.
But I don’t think it’s about two wrongs making a right. Instead, look to our common humanity.
This isn’t only rational stuff.
This is emotional and experiential stuff we’re talking about.
Imagine learning to play guitar by a book and you don’t get to play it until after you’ve been tested on your book learning and then the church has the audacity to suggest that all one’s necessary learning comes in the reading of the book and the passing of the test. Actually touching the strings and making the chords with your fingers doesn’t factor in at all.
Scientists remind us that our brains learn far more effectively by doing something than be reading about it or listening to lectures like this one.
We don’t truly learn about the Eucharist until after we’ve experienced it. Over and over again.
And I’ll take it one better and say I didn’t know the Eucharist until I came to a community so full of generosity and love that I felt Christ’s presence in them already. As I give them communion.
Anamnesis
Again, this is how we know that Jesus is a really smart dude. He never said: Here, memorize stuff. What did he actually say? Follow me. He grabbed some fishermen, healed a couple of people, and then what does he do? He sends them out in pairs to go heal people on their own! They don’t go to school and get degrees. They go and they do.
So when it was time for Jesus to say goodbye to them, what does he do? He says, keep getting together to eat and drink as you will. But when you do, remember me. He’s saying to them remember me in the doing of this thing. I will be with you in this remembering.
Praying Shapes Believing.
So we keep praying together to become the thing Jesus would have us become.
This is the true beauty and glory of Anamnesis—which is the crazy idea that memories, even shared memories from our traditions, become real in our recalling them.
Remembering Jesus when we’re at a table with our friends, sharing food with intention and love and compassion and mercy has the very power to restore people and communities to wholeness.
So our prayers are full of sacrifice, confession, and redemption. We yearn for God’s will, God’s kingdom, God’s justice and mercy to burst forth like a mighty river. And we remember that we are called to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves.
Because remembering while we do stuff pulls the past into the present, widens the thin spaces, and transforms us by God’s grace into God’s grace.
What Will I Find?
So what does this actually mean for you if you were to walk into St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church this Sunday morning?
You’d be welcomed to join us and encouraged to participate in the service. And when we get to communion, I’ll invite everyone saying
Now as we turn our attention to the table, we remember it is GOD’s table shared with us and we are blessed to share it with one another. If you are feeling called to come to the table, I welcome and encourage you to come forward in love and expectation.
You’ll see that some may cross themselves to receive a blessing. And some will drink from a common boundary-breaking cup and some will dip, but all will share in the remembering and becoming.
In the words of Rachel Held Evans:
“The church is God saying: “I’m throwing a banquet, and all these mismatched, messed-up people are invited. Here, have some wine.”
This was my presentation as part of a local Symposium on the Lord’s Supper. We gathered presbyters from Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, and Episcopal traditions to speak about communion.
You can find a video capturing the whole event on Facebook.
And I smoothly used these visuals behind me, if you want to see them for yourself: