How do you approach communion?
First Corinthians Chapter 11 verses 23 through 32
October 4th, 1987
A friend of mine once confided that of all the things that happened during worship, the part when we receive communion was the least meaningful. What got to him, he said, with the long empty spaces when we administered the bread and wine. When he stood in the aisle waiting, he had nothing to do and therefore was almost forced to watch the faces of his fellow worshippers coming and returning from the rail
.They all look so blank, so bored, so weary, that he lost interest in the whole process
I was really not too surprised to hear such words. This person was reflecting much of our culture. After all, from the moment we get up in the morning until we’ve gone to bed at night, the majority of us are pulled and pushed by a frantic pace at events. Our senses are bombarded by all kinds of stimuli. We have very few occasions for personal, quiet time, so we really aren’t equipped to deal with silence.
I must admit, when we instituted silent periods after the epistle and after the sermon, we did it with fear and trembling. I was sure I would get a lot of flak. We naturally want to fill up our empty spaces.
I have a friend who, whenever he reads the scripture in church or preaches, always ends by saying, Listen for the word of God. Maybe that’s better than saying, the gospel of the Lord, or here endeth the lesson. Listen, be quiet, wait on the Lord, for I’m convinced it’s at the quiet times when God speaks the most to us.
Going one step further with my friend’s comments, he said the people looked so blank, so bored, so weary. I hesitate to mention this because I don’t want you to feel awkward or under scrutiny when you are coming up to receive communion or leaving the rail afterward. And I certainly don’t want you to put on a religious face. Maybe that’s our problem. We’re so caught up with decency and decorum as Episcopalians that we don’t let the spirit shine through.
I recall a story. It happened at Trinity on the green, New Haven CT which is a pretty staid New England parish. One Sunday, a fellow came into church and he was pretty scruffily dressed. The ushers who were experts at suddenly placing people, put him in the back pull away from the regulars. When the service started, this guy kept claiming in during prayers and at the sermon with loud exclamations like Amen, brother! Thank you Jesus! And praise the Lord! Finally, the head usher couldn’t stand it any longer. He walked up to the man and said, Excuse me, Sir you will have to leave. You’re disturbing our parishioners. The man was nonplussed What’s wrong? He said I am just praying to Jesus. The head Asher drew himself up with all his dignity and said, Here at Trinity on the green, we don’t pray. We worship.
I love it. We don’t pray, we worship. How Anglican! Friedrich Nietzsche once said, speaking to the Christian Church, You will have to look more redeemed to believe your Redeemer. Let me translate that into terms my friend might say to the church now. You’ll have to look more radiant, more excited, more spirit-filled if I’m going to believe that communion means anything. Do you recall, in the book of Acts, the early church was accused of being drunk after worship? The only thing we can be accused of is sleepwalking.
Let’s face it, the way we leave or approach a table is usually reflective of what we’ve been eating or expect to eat. Was it to be a feast, a banquet, a celebration where the food was fantastic? Or was it a diet meal, good for you but bland and uninteresting? Our expectations color our approach.
Let me suggest 2 expectations regarding the communion. They may not have changed your approach but they may have helped me in different times in my life
The first comes from John Calvin, whom I have a tough time understanding in seminary. But one thing I did understand was his commentary on the communion service. Calvin said, the communion service is like a handshake, a visible, tangible sign. You can walk down the street, and someone across the other side says, Good morning. How are you? It’s great to see you! But there may be quite a crowd of people moving on the same St. and you’re not sure he’s speaking to you. But then the man crosses the street and shakes your hand, and you know the greeting was meant for you. Just so says Calvin, in the pulpit, the redeeming love of God is proclaimed, but you are not certain it is addressed to you. Then in the community, you come to the rail, eat and drink, and there can be no doubt. This is God’s handshake. He’s putting his arms around you. Confirming his love, saying to you personally, you are my beloved. I was in the Sunday school Class A few years ago, and I asked the youngsters what the Eucharist what the community, meant to them. There was that awful silence when as a teacher you say to yourself ohh no, I’ve asked the wrong question. What do I do now? Finally, 1 little child piped up, I know! It’s God’s show and tell. That’s terrific theology. When you’re at the rail you’re coming to God show and tell. It’s as if to say he has to let you know he cares.
Another expectation is to see the communion service through Thomas Cranmer’s eyes. Kramer was the Archbishop of Canterbury responsible for our first prayer book. What Cranmer did, other than putting it together, was to give the stage direction. The stage directions are what are called rubrics, and they are very important. Not only do they tell you what to do, but if you look closely at them, they imply why you are doing what you are doing.
In the directions for communion, Cranmer specified that the bread and the wine should be eaten in both hands, and the bread is to be placed into the hands of the people. This was no accidental choice of words. Cranmer knew that the verb to ordain meant word for word to place into the hands. In fact, a Hebrew priest was ordained by having the holy things placed into his hands. Kramer understood that every communion service was a service of ordination. When we are being ordained. We are made a Kingdom of priests. When you approach the altar, you are becoming a minister, a priest, an ordained person in God’s church.
Remember that when holy things are placed in your hand, or on your tongue. Remember who you are and what you are becoming.
You know, we live in an era of exaggerated speech. We are being bombarded on all sides by the media, and among the most common claims heard on radio and television are, you are what you wear, or, you are what you drive, or even, you are what you eat. All of these statements make a point and the point is that what we take on is, to a large or small measure, what we become.
And so this morning, as we think about our worship, I would remind you that we are what we need. Please think about that when you come forward to the rail. Come with joy, come with anticipation, come with excitement, for this is the bread of life, God’s blessing on each of us. Saint Augustine said it well. Just before his smile, the leaguered congregation was to come to the rail, he turned to the altar and pointed to the bread and wine, and said, See what you are. Be what you are.
A minister! A priest! An inheritor of the Kingdom, a son or daughter returning home, is what you are.
Amen