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"Finding Our Place at the Table"
Bond Chapel is a gothic jewel on the University of Chicago campus on the south side. It goes back to the Rockefeller era of the University, and is the place where the worship services of the Divinity School are held. Forty years ago we were gathered in the chapel for the Lord’s Supper, and three tables were needed: one for the Roman Catholic mass, one for the conservative Protestants would wanted to be sure that we had been correctly saved in order to come to the table, and one for the rest of us. You had to know which table before you could find your place. It was memorable but not for the right reasons.
In Presbyterian Scotland generations past, you had to be worthy to come to the table, and if you were not there was no place for you. The minister would examine you and give you a token of admission. In fascinating contrast on the night of the institution of the supper by Jesus himself Judas was present and shared in the receiving of the elements. The table I communed at in southern Mississippi was segregated. Some people were not welcome at the table, and the argument was they had their own table. Finding a place at the table has often been a struggle. That is not what God intended, nor what the gospel proclaims. "I tell you, many will come from east and west and eat with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven," a banquet the menu for which Isaiah described so eloquently. Celebrating communion is an exercise in concentrating on what is essential. The essence of God’s revelation is: I am for you, trust me. The invitation is to those who trust in Jesus. That is the single standard. Yet even our trust is God’s work Aren’t we all relieved that trust is not divided into percentages and improvements? When the Trinity turns toward the world, the Son and the Spirit become the two arms of God by which humanity was made and taken into God’s embrace. Gathering around this table, giving, taking, eating, drinking, praying, speaking, singing, is the ritual time in which we celebrate this God making space for us and inviting us in, redeeming us.[1] Celebrating this sacrament is an exercise and practice in allowing ourselves to be placed in the basic structures of the relationship of God with us, of us with God, of us with one another. The church changes from an auditorium to a communal meeting place. Here we are a community.[2] What God is like becomes visible here. God is the one out of whose death we live; He is the one with whom we have the most intimate fellowship: when you eat bread and drink wine, they become flesh of your flesh and blood of your blood. Next to you in the pew are those who receive the same bread and wine; flesh of their flesh and blood of their blood. A new relationship becomes clear: we all receive and become that one body of Christ. The more a congregation becomes a community of the table, the more it will be aware of and alert to the others, the others in the inhabited world.[3] What happens to us must be done by us. Having been embraced by God, we must make space for others in our lives and invite them in. In receiving Christ’s broken body and spilled blood, we receive all those whom Christ received by suffering, dying on the cross.[4] We human beings are constituted by love, God’s love. Life is characterized by mutuality, giving and receiving. We are interdependent. The church is not a club of gifted, self-sufficient individuals, but rather a community whom the Spirit of God has endowed for service to each other and to the world – all in anticipation of God’s new creation.[5] The church is the reality created by God in Christ in which we participate. The Christian community is not an ideal we have to realize. It is by grace only that it exists. No one of us can give ourselves faith, it must always be received from another, the work of God’s Spirit in God’s church. And so we gather around the table and "Do this." And the "we" who do this? Separate tables are not allowed, tokens are not given, dues are not required, heresies are not examined. Rather who the "we" is constantly grows and is always enriched. We are those always bringing in more chairs and inviting people to the table. And each one of us brings particular gifts to the table. The table grows and includes more folks who call for recognition, notice, attention, care, love. Those who went to Malawi know what I am talking about. They come to this table and they see the faces and feel the presence of those new friends they made. And in Malawi they know the same thing is happening. For Betty and me there are many people gathered here we met during these ten, now moving toward eleven interims. There are so many more at this table that we get to know. Then, there is also a kind of mystic sweet communion with those whose rest is won. Sometimes it is a particularly poignant moment when we get church newsletters from the churches we have served, and they speak of the death of someone we know. That is one of the things about being an interim that is tough. Gloriously they are at this table too. We is always getting larger. There is always a place at God’s invitation. Here we are embraced by the gospel of God. Hallelujah! Let us come to table! _____________________________________ |
F.
Harry Daniel