In 1 Corinthians 11:17ff, Paul begins by the kind of evaluation you don’t really want to hear when speaking about your assemblies: they do more harm than good.
From the beginning of the letter (1:10), he’s made it clear that their divisions are a problem. But what’s even worse is that these divisions are made even worse when they come together.
Apparently, the wealthier members — the ones who would host the small house churches — would follow the practices they’d learned in Roman society. They’d gather in the small dining area for the kind of elegant meal they were used to and put everyone else in the living space where they could eat something simpler (maybe cheap wine, bread, and soup).
In Paul’s words, some were going hungry while others were getting drunk. In other words, the disparity was disgusting.
When they gathered for the meal — the meal of Jesus which was often combined with a common meal — they were to be one. Remembering that Jesus died, they should be announcing by their actions that everything is now different. The old divisions of this world collapse.
The table of Jesus is a place of reconciliation. It’s a place where we taste the future and announce that the reign of God is among us.
I’ve seen this before — haven’t you? (Go back and watch the communion scene at the end of “Places in the Heart”!)
Communion is a place where angry spouses can begin to release their anger; it’s where people who’ve disagreed over something (think, e.g., about all the things Christians have argued about just about communion itself!) can recognize a greater unity.
Could some of you take a moment to describe your most powerful experiences of communion — especially as a moment of reconciliation?
In the weeks after my grandmother’s sudden death I found sleep did not come easily, eating was difficult…this was my first experience with this type of shock. I felt as though I was going about life as a robot.
One Sunday morning…about 2 months after her death…in Bible class Neale Pryor said something like this: “God isn’t sitting up there waiting to see what we can do wrong just so he can zap us. He’s not watching, saying, ‘Ah-ha! Gotcha!’ When he forgives, he forgets. He’s cheering us on, telling us we can do it, that He loved us so much He was willing to let Jesus die for us, that His desire is that we live with Him eternally.”
Neale did not say anything I did not already know. It did give me peace and comfort to hear it…and that Sunday as I took the Lord’s Supper, it was with a renewed thanksgiving and appreciation for God and His love.
In Brazil we would often practice serving one another the Lord’s Supper. You could see brothers or sisters cross the room to someone they had difficulty with and there would be hugs and reconcilliation before, during, and after the Lord’s Supper. Christ was there.
A couple of weeks ago, on a Sunday morning, a friend said something particularly hurtful to me. During the pre-communion prayer, she sent me a text (yeah, too much technology…but it was good in this case) apologizing and asking forgiveness. It was a time of reconciliation for both of us.
In Greece, we would all stand, and wait to partake until everyone had been served. It created a really neat feeling of unity.
Perhaps not my most powerful, but still strong: the Sunday after Brody’s death and the accident, I spent communion asking God to help me trust him more because at that point I was doubting his discernment skills. I also interceded in prayer for the driver to be able to forgive herself.
Although the system and structure were still way off the mark (they are most Sundays in “assembly line/preside and pass” churches. Some Sundays we are closer - Highland, Lake Cities - when the body comes forward and engages) but the intent was right on target. I spent time communing with God and dealing with reconciliation issues in a powerful way.
Everyone facing the same direction, ingesting tiny bits of bread, just enough to make your stomach growl, no one saying a word to anyone else (except for the acceptable idle talk)? Like many other folks who stop by here, other than a few introspective moments, maybe, I have nothing worth telling. I wonder, What would Paul say to that?
When I was first in Prague during a summer break campaign, communion was passed as the church and the visitors gathered in a large community room on the nth? floor of an apartment building in a crowded living area of the city. Even on Sunday, there was work going on outside to construct a new building…and as the bread and wine (real wine!) were passed, I could hear the sound of hammers in the distance through the open windows.
I’ll never, ever forget that.
The most powerful communion times for me have been in a small group at the Reynolds house, on a dock at the lake with a handful of close friends, in a moter home on vacation with my family when I was a kid, on the beach while on a mission trip and around my table at home as part of a common meal. Again with close friends and good wine. Do you see a theme here?
Our “small group” is communion-centered. After reading “Come to the Table”, I purposed that it would be, as far as I could make it so. We eat bread, made for the purpose. The cups are large. Sometimes it is in the middle of our meal (”While they were eating, Jesus took bread…”), other times it is at the beginning.
We have been doing this once a month on Sunday nights for a couple years now. It isn’t always smooth or easy. Mostly because we know “reverent”, and we know how to be silly, but we haven’t learned how a group can be joyfully serious (or seriously joyful). So we naturally tend towards either “reverent” i.e. silent, or “silly”.
But no one said it would be easy. It wasn’t working too well at Corinth, as Mike points out. We have to LEARN how. One evening I noticed a sister, who had been having some trouble in her family, and we had been praying about that. She was sitting with bread in one hand, cup in the other, and an indescribable look of serenity on her face. Immediately I thought, “whoever eats this bread will never be hungry”.
Afterwards one of the poorer members took the leftover bread and other food home for her family. Again I thought, “this is how it is SUPPOSED to be.”
The most powerful communion experience was while I was doing prison ministry and preaching to 120 inmates. The inmates would do most of the service. The inmates would tell how much Jesus had changed their life before communion. Some of the inmates would confess sins that they had committed during the week and reconcil wrongs before it was served. The inmates would served each other communion and Praise God as they did so. It was so powerful! Meaningful! Moving! God bless those brothers behind bars and the men continue to preach the Word of God the inmates across America.
I have two experiences that quickly came to mind. One was a time of communion with the three other people I was on a short-term mission trip with. We were outside sitting on a picnic table in a park.
The other time was just a few years ago on an Easter Sundy. When we got to church, the rows of chairs in the auditorium had been replaced with round tables and chairs. We *shared* communion (already prepared and on the table) with those at our table.
Attending a non-denominational church now, the one thing I miss from my Church of Christ background is weekly communion.
Two times that come to mind. First, a special service where my husband and I were asked to share communion to the body. We pinched off bread and allowed each one to dip their piece in the wine. I was to say, “this body given for you.” When my oldest daughter, along with her family came by, it was very touching for me. It was family in a way I had never experienced and gave me a feeling of unity I never expected.
The other time was when my husband and I went to Arkansas for our 25th wedding anniversary. We fasted the day we hiked up to a waterfall and spent time there reading and contemplating and came back to the cabin to partake in communion. It was a very special time for us and a bringing together of unity for us.
How far does the “disparity principle” of the Corinthian letter reach? Is the matter of disparity which Paul deems intolerable only relavent to the serving size of bread and wine being served? Does the disparity principle apply to the congregation where one member drives a Lexus SUV and another member cannot pay their hospital bill?
Just thinking through this one.
Lynn Trigg, how I know what you mean. While in San Diego I attended an interdenominational church, and the absence of weekly communion began to cause a spiritual crisis. Fortunately, I discovered a small chapel just two blocks from my house that had a 1/2 hour weekly communion service that offered me the weekly opportunity. It finished early enough to get me scooting into services at Scott, right on time. PTL!
Probably my most powerful experiences was at the conclusion of the Southwest Singles Celebration in San Antonio many years ago. The devotional thoughts were extraordinary. As the trays were being passed a series of slides were shown. I glanced up just as one depicting just a bloody, lifeless forearm and hand, laying on a piece of rough wood, with a large spike laying beside it. The impact of what Jesus did for me was overwhelming. That image still often comes to me during Communion and again I’m reduced to tears of shame and thanksgiving.
I think of a meaningful communion which did (surprisingly enough) happen in the context of the “face forward, don’t talk, take enough bread to make you hungry” communion many of us experience weekly. I was having significant conflict with a man in our church. (He had even gone far enough to threaten to run one of my co-workers over in the parking lot if he got the chance!) Finally, after a couple of months, he came forward at church and repented(!). The next week, we sat close together we communed together, catching each other’s eye during the passing of the bread.
The body is broken so that the body can be restored.
I wasn’t there when this happened, but…A friend of mine was in his final days, his body ravaged with cancer. He had been slipping in and out of consciousness and even when he was awake, it was difficult for him to communicate with his family. At one point, however, he looked up and saw his family and some of his closest friends from church and began to whisper something. Someone leaned closer and realized that he was whispering the word “communion.” They then decided to have a communion service there in the hospital room and shortly thereafter he went to be with the Lord. One of our mutual friends came back to our church and shared this with us the following week before communion. There was hardly a dry eye in the house.
Frank, I can relate, and it makes me so sad. What a far cry from a meal of celebration and connection among an enthusiastic family of believers!
The most meaningful communion time I ever experienced was with a group of four or five good friends on a weekday afternoon in an apartment on ACU’s campus. We had been meeting together to share our common blessings and struggles as both Christians and students in the MFT graduate program. We decided to spend one of our meetings celebrating the life and sacrifice of our Lord, and why it mattered to us. One of the guys baked an amazingly edible and enjoyable (yes - I said enjoyable) loaf of sweet flatbread, and we all ate and drank in a real and comfortable way as we shared Jesus’ life with one another and our own lives with each other.
Other than that, it’s been mostly the silent ingestion of tiny bits of cracker and a half a swig of grape juice. I will say I’ve appreciated the efforts of Eddie Parish to bring life back to the fellowship meal at our church. May he never grow weary in going against the grain for the sake of the Kingdom.
Mike, you asked a great question and I gave an ugly answer. I didn’t sleep much last night and whiled away the time reading John Updike; that always turns me into Mr. Curmudgeon.
Even as I’ve done it for so many years now, Communion has brought some sweet moments. You mention the ending of Places in the Heart. As I remember, in form, it’s a scene that (not counting the instrument, of course) could have taken place in a Church of Christ; with two differences: the Last Supper text is read over the sound of a choir singing “I Come to the Garden Alone,” and the exchange of the words “the peace of God” among at least some of the main characters before they drink. It’s a powerful combination, one that doesn’t require unbolting the pews or anything like that.
Regarding portion size, I still think about that Taco Bell commercial where the guy announces “I’m full!” How I’d love to do that right after the Lord’s Supper!
In 1987 I attended my first missions seminar at ACU. Our Sunday worship services were attempts to engage in cross-cultural worship. One Sunday we were led to the boiler room in the dormitory basement. The setting was the catacombs, and we were the early, persecuted church at worship. When communion was served, we were invited to come forward and receive the bread and wine. As we were given the bread, the “elder” said, “Jesus Christ died for you. Will you give your life for him?”
At that point, I knew I would.
Twenty years ago, but still a fresh memory.
Frank: I don’t think your first post was ugly; it was a good reminder of how far (most of us) have to go.
John, Hub, Preacherman: thanks for reminding us of how it can be.
sweaty, exhausted, my sister and I break bread, in a tent, after a long day’s hike as we journey on the Appalachian Trail….the best!
In order to help make the point that we are “all” united in Christ I asked my good friend Jaime Flores to help me lead the communion service one Sunday morning. Jaime speaks the native tongue of Mexico better than he does English, but we don’t have any problems in communications between the two of us (ok, most of the time). I gave a short talk and Jaime offered the prayers. The best part was hearing several mothers tell me after church that their smaller children has wanted to know, “what was Mr. Jaime saying?” I don’t know what impression it left with the children, but I know several mothers that got the message very clearly. It wasn’t hard to tell that the message had registered deeply with them as they explained Jaime’s prayers to their children.
Dying Moments
Once I was in Boston on a business trip and while walking through a mall, saw a small Catholic chapel in one of the storefronts. Out of curiosity (whoever heard of a church in a mall?), I decided to attend their service on Saturday evening. It was a breathtakingly beautiful service…packed…mostly 30’s and younger crowd; culminating in Eucharist accompanied by live guitar in the background. What made it most memorable for me was the realization that yes, Catholics really did love Jesus and yes, the anti-Catholic sentiment of my youth was wrong. Like others have mentioned previously, one of the many meanings of Eucharist is our equality and unity around the Lord’s table. Barriers are broken, and that’s exactly what happened to me that day.
When I was in Israel with 20 preacher friends back in February, we took communion every night in different spots around the Holy Land. One of the evenings we were on the Sea of Galilee where the resurrected Jesus fed his disciples fish and bread. A Byzantine mosaic of two fish and four loaves is preserved in the Church of the Seven Springs. That’s right… four loaves. They say the fifth loaf is the one from which we eat every Sunday. I will never take communion in the same way again.
Last year, my husband and I attended our Diocesan Conference, held at, of all places, Butlins in Bognor Regis. Over 500 delegates met daily and nightly in the highly garish Red Room, which during normal holiday times (NOT religious conferences!) is where the main events and entertainment are, um, showcased. Not exactly a sacred place. But 500 is a lot of people (here in the UK, at least) and it’s expensive to find a place large enough to have any place that will take care of this lot for a week, so Butlins it was.
Ever morning at 7.30am, my husband helped facilitate the Eucharist, which was attended by those who don’t want to miss the bird song. But on the last day of the conference, everyone was present for the final Communion we would all share together in the Red Room. It’s amazing, but when eager hearts and willing souls genuinely desire to seek Communion with each other and remember the gifts of our God through His son Jesus Christ, He will find us wherever we are. That day, in that Red Room, with over 500 folks, gathered six around small tables, God met each of us as we extended to one another His love, forgiveness, healing, compassion.
If you should care to, I wrote about the compelling nature of the Communion service, and how deeply it touched me, here:
http://kibbelznbitsbydeb.blogspot.com/2006/03/stone-gathering.html
This past Sunday, I served communion from the front at Highland. It was quite an experience, watching as the body came forward, trying to say meaningful things to them while maintaining eye contact. I realized then the different ways that we can approach the table:
Some approached with much trepidation. They wouldn’t maintain eye contact very long, their faces anxious. I remember saying to one young woman, “This is the blood of Christ, shed for the forgiveness of sins and to give you a new life.” Her face said so much. She looked almost surprised, but relieved.
Some came critically. One person: “Let’s see now… looks like you might be almost out, son.” There were many (10+) full cups left, and exactly 2 people behind him in line, but I changed trays, anyway. I guess humility is needed to serve. And I’m soooo humble…. more humble than anyone else, ever.
Some approached me confidently and lovingly. I got hugged by many people I didn’t even know (they aren’t hard to find, because I spend most of my time at Freedom Fellowship). Some blessed me right back. Mark Lewis just stood there with his arm around me while I served others.
I thought watching from my seat while everyone went forward was powerful, but it was nothing compared to what I experienced Sunday. I’m convinced that there is no better way to do communion (other than in a living room, but that’s just my secret disdain for “big” church showing).
And Zach, it was such a blessing to be your companion serving our church family Sunday. I was so moved when it came our time to take of the body and blood of Jesus together, especially by your hushed reverence as you offered me the cup. Thank you and bless you!
What I remember most is a moment that passed.
Clint, the first time i took communion on a Walk the server said , This is the body of Christ broken JUST FOR YOU and i almost fell over.
I have a couple tough questions.
Many of these comments have disparaged the concept of “sit quietly, face forward, eat enough bread to make you hungry” communion. Many of the commenters’ (myself included) most meaningful communion experiences occurred in situations outside of this norm — be it in a small group, around a table, on a hiking trail, in a time of celebration, or in a time of reconciliation. Furthermore, many in Churches of Christ have traditionally said that the Supper is the focal point and central activity of our assemblies. (it was in the ancient church, but the American experiment shifted the focus to the sermon instead)
So, I ask: Why do we continue to “do church” in a way that does not reflect people’s desire for a more “real” and celebratory Supper experience or our belief that the Supper is the principal unifying activity of the church when it assembles?
My most memorable was this past November. It was at my grandparents house and my grandfather lay dying of cancer. Our family gathered around sang a few songs, read scripture and prayed. It was painful, powerful and beautiful at the same time. We took communion, my grandfather could only touch the cracker with his tongue but it was enough just like the bleeding woman only needed to touch Christ’s robe. Three days later he passed away. I’ll never forget.
I have had communion on the brain this last week because I got to experience something very profound for me on Sunday. Our church had a Womens’ Retreat, and I was asked to give the communion prayer on Sunday morning. In all the things I have done as a church leader, this was not something I had never experienced–leading a moment of spiritual community with our representations of body and blood. It was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life. I’m still sort of floating about it because how touching it was to look in so many women’s faces as we worshipped in that way together. . .and for all the amazing things God helped me meditate on in preparation for that moment. Incredible.
Roger B., I was so thinking of Eddie Parrish while reading Mike’s post and many of the comments. In Baton Rouge, when Eddie did the communion service, he would have them serve extra bread and ask the congregation to take larger pieces so we could break them together with the peope next to us. The first time I experienced this, I remember thinking, “oh, this is how it’s supposed to feel.” I have longed to worship with the Parrishs again just to experience that was of approaching Christ’s table. So cool!
Steve Jr., I think the answer to your question at most churches is … well, the title of Mike’s post. If a church is not prepared with gentle and accurate teaching so they can be enriched by a non-traditional time at the table, they will only feel disoriented, disfranchised and offended. At some churches, it would only serve to divide; teaching or not. It’s not as if we are currently “doing communion” or “doing church” wrong, but some would feel that more progressive hearts would be saying that.
The truth is, if we give our hearts to it, the table can change us whether we’re facing forward silently or serving each other or celebrating on a mountaintop or by a death-bed.
Steve Jr. I too have had some great communion experiences outside the norm. I’ll never forget sitting at a park with a few friends. But I’ve also had them in the normal too. Some of my most powerful have been in the pew holding the hand of my wife. Just because I take communion in the same place most of the time doesn’t make it any less important or special
I don’t mind pushing for the new or fresh, but I also find “doing church” very refreshing too when my heart and focus is right.
Excellent points, Kieth and Trey.
Several years ago my wife and I were members of a small group at Highland that was centered around the Lord’s Supper. One evening, after we had eaten a wonderful meal, we sat around the table for over an hour swapping stories and laughing. No deep lesson, no “church talk”, just spending time together.
Somewhere right in the middle of all this our host, a man in his 60’s, began to pass the elements of the Lord’s Supper around to each of us. We began to get quiet and he quickly protested, “No, keep talking. Just take and eat as you do.” So, we continued our conversation as we shared communion together. As the night began to wind down our host prayed for us that we might all know that Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection makes a claim on every aspect of our lives, even laugh-filled conversations with friends.
I often find myself thinking about that communion meal as I do even the most mundane tasks. What a blessing to know that the impact of the Lord’s Supper reaches far beyond the walls of the church and into every part of who we are as followers of Christ.
Eating the Lord’s supper is perhaps the most personal and private expression of our relationship with Jesus and the Father. We do it to remember Him…I welcome ideas to help us remember Him. I have some fear though that our efforts to make communion more “meaninful” would have the same effect as many of our efforts to make singing more “relevant”…focusing more on us and our preferences than on the Lord.
As I reread my comment, I realized “private” is not really the correct adjective. Of course, we are also involved with each other very intimately as we commune with the Lord who has promised to be there in the midst of us.
Last month, in Tuscaloosa, the communion time was led by a group in China. Via a live webcam, we were able to share a special time with people that were physically far away but also very close in spirit.
Keith, I respectfully disagree. Square dancing and the rumba both qualify as “dancing.” But if my wife is my partner, I’m picking the rumba every time.
Even if your wife would prefer square dancing, Frank?
Our time at the table is community time.
We feed each other. We glorify God. We don’t insist on our own way.
Mike
Here it has been a struggle to focus on communion and have my experience be one of both community and intimacy with Jesus. Because the service is in english, sort of, rapid speaking with a singsong rythym.So I often read a passage to center my mind and spirit on Him. As i look up God reminds me of the variety of his reconciliation. He hears our hearts and we look thru His eyes as we seek Him in each other. The eyes of the Zambian brothers and sisters touch me in a way I cannot explain but am grateful to God who allows me to see Him so clearly thru them. By the way, this is all done in a very traditional service, not the type I would pick, but aren’t I glad it is about Jesus, not me.
At the end of our retreats at Gulf Coast Bible Camp we have a wonderful communion tradition. We sing for quite a while. Then some songs are played for us to sing along with … and as we are moved each gets up and goes to the back of the area where we are seated. Brothers and sisters gather around the tables and serve each other. After communion everyone is arm in arm…many hugs … many tears… expressing joy in the songs that no one has to lead, but just be moved by. This time is ended by singing together There’s A Stirring together. I have had some brief, but powerful conversations about how God is reaching our hearts…during this time.
Point taken, Keith.
Clown communion…no actually any Emmaus communion…serving communion to my Huddle when I was asked to lead one of our Wed. nights together…communion with brothers and sisters in Brazil. And every Sunday that we come to the front to take communion like last week, especially the time last quarter when my parents served me communion. What a powerful experience! I have non-CofC friends who say that if they took communion every week, for them it would lose its significance. For me, it is a powerful reminder every week of who I am and who I live for. Thanks for the inspiring thoughts, Mike!
We used to have a thing called “The Gathering” in our community that was attended by people of many denominations. We served communion one Saturday night and it was very special to partake with people from our community that we don’t ordinarily worship with.
Clown communion blew me away the first time and the second time and……
I guess from a reconciliation standpoint, the most powerful experience I have had is serving communion to the man I fell in love with a few years ago who subsequently broke my heart. It is very powerful to serve someone who has hurt you very deeply and say “This is the body of Christ broken just for you, my brother.” Very healing.
I had never heard of Clown communion. I was curious and googled it. I think having someone drop a nail in each hand during the serving of the emblems could create quite an emotional experience.
The communion of the Lord’s Supper with the saints has changed my life and my heart. Maybe not one particular event, but many. At HEB camp, our Life Team, our Mission team, my close friends. All have a part in it, but it is a miraculous event. One of the deepest is a memory from our mission trip. We met early in the morning to share the Lord’s meal before our day’s activities. A cloud came over and started a hard downpour, and chased us all inside to a cramped stairwell, juice and bread in hand. What followed was a sharing of astounding blessing, punctuated by thunder and lightning. Some of our group were dealing with difficult issues, and we cried over each other. We spoke freely to each other, face to face and up close, making eye contact. The Spirit moved in most, if not all of us. We will always have a bond between us that is more than just friendship. We are becoming one as we share the Bread of Life. I dream about sharing that intimacy with the whole church, taking an hour or more if we need to…, but really sharing.
My most powering communion experience was on June 15, 1997 in Campinas, Brazil. I’d been in Brazil for only a week as a missionary intern with the independent Christian churches/churches of Christ, and during communion the oldest daughter from my host family sang “Pra Cima Brasil.” That moment I knew I would be a missionary in Brazil. It became my vocation, and though I failed to do everything that high calling demanded of me (a fuller explanation will be on my blog this coming Monday), I did end up serving in Brazil for nearly three years, and now have every intention of going back…once I’m really ready.
Calvin,
That memory is special to me, too!