4/7/66

There was a time when a sacramental service such as this one meant, to me, a kind of uncomfortable solemnity. Perhaps it was because, in that church of my childhood, there always seemed to be one or more people who would weep during the service. And I think that it was often the case that there was a rather highly charged emotional atmosphere about. But in later years, I have come to regard the communion service as one of solemn joy, and I think this is its real merit.

The communion service is often called the “Eucharist.” And the word Eucharist appears to mean, centrally, something like Thanksgiving. At any rate, thanksgiving is an appropriate, and important, part of the communion.

Another part of communion is the suggestion that here we share something together. Early Christians were quite literal about it for a while -- sharing their property, each contributing for the good of the whole in consideration of the need for each. They discovered, before long, that there are human defects in such a plan, taken literally -- making their ideal nearly impossible to achieve. But the church has never given up the idea of spiritual sharing, nor of practical helpfulness for one another. That idea is still alive, and a real part of the communion service until this day.

Another common interpretation of the Lord’s supper is that of sharing a simple meal. I feel that the first communion was as simple as that. Jesus and his disciples ate a meal together. During the supper, there came his breaking of the bread. One can imagine him taking bread -- a staple, fundamental food -- and holding it up as though to say, “This is what you will always be doing, since bread is so essential.” In effect, he was saying, “Every time you break bread you will be reminded of my body, broken and shared with you.” Remember this was before the crucifixion, so it acquired its deeper meaning for his disciples, then and now, when we learn how completely he did give his life -- body, mind and spirit -- for us. The remembrance of this simple, central truth is part of our preparation for communion.

Some time ago, there appeared an advertisement for monuments in a magazine. It had to do with a subject that seems somber, but it was beautifully done. It pictured a grassy spot and a stone and a little girl putting a bouquet of flowers on the grass. Someone had written the caption on the picture: “No one is dead so long as he is remembered by someone.”

In ways more wonderful than by flowers alone, we are trying to remember Christ. We remember him when we recall that the giving of a cup of water, or any other true helpfulness to one in need of it, is an expression of his spirit. We recall the Master when we rebel against corruption and when we give ourselves to a great and good cause. We remember him as we read the gospels and sing fine hymns. And especially we remember Christ in the communion which he instituted. He is never dead when remembered. This may have been one of the considerations he had in mind when he said to his friends there in that upper room, “As often as you do this, do it in remembrance of me.”

We are to think of his death, I am sure, when we meditate at communion. But I feel sure that we are even more to think of his life, as lived in the flesh and spirit 19 and one-half centuries ago, and as effectively living today in the spirit of people of our time.

Now let us look again to the matter of thanksgiving, which is such a real part of communion. Sometimes a minister uses words like these in offering the communion elements to the worshippers: “Eat this in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your heart by faith, with thanksgiving.” Perhaps it is followed, a few moments later in the services of some of the churches, by the words, “Drink this in remembrance that Christ died for you, and be thankful.” Over and over this idea is expressed so that we do not forget that communion is thanksgiving.

In the early church, despite the great danger of persecution and cruel death, there was much thankfulness. In the second chapter of Acts, one may read that they “broke bread with gladness and singleness of heart.” [Acts 2: 46]. You get the feeling that communion was, for them, something radiant. Whether they were meeting in somebody’s house or in the secrecy of the catacombs, they were grateful.

They certainly did not have ranch houses with two-car garages. They did not have the wonder drugs that save us from many diseases. They had no social security to depend upon. But they had Christ’s spirit in their lives, and it made them radiant and grateful. You can sense this each time you read about them. What did they have to be thankful for? Some of them (at first) were people who had actually seen Jesus; all of them had heard about him and felt he was a splendid part of their lives. They had been forgiven; they found a way to live, with spirit! They were thankful for the hope of redemption in the world, and for the world of people.

You and I may come to the communion with heartaches, with sorrow, with sore and sinful consciences, with burdens we feel unable to bear. This is the best place to bring our troubles. For here we can again hear the assurance of forgiveness, and spiritual sharing, of renewal and strength and hope. And for this we can be thankful.

All of this is a kind of covenant, or agreement, God makes with mankind. The idea of a covenant is one that roots far back in Hebrew history. The Jews had frequently felt that God was in covenant with them as His people. The prophet Jeremiah was one of those who had assured the Jewish people that the Lord of life made a new covenant with his people. God had earlier covenanted to have them led out of Egyptian slavery. He had kept his agreement, but they had not always kept their part of it in loyalty and rightness. Now, said Jeremiah, God offered a new covenant to give them the needed light and warmth of sun, dependability of moon and stars, privilege of being a nation. And they were to keep their part of the covenant in obedience to His righteous ways. [Jeremiah 31: 31-36].

There is often included, in the communion, something about covenant: ... “I will make a new covenant with you.” There are phrases in the communion about “the new covenant in my blood.” The Jews understood well the meaning of covenant. They were often looking for a new covenant.

That is a feeling that may well come over us when we take communion. You and I covenant with God; He covenants with us. We understand the meaning of this in our family life. A man and a woman being married enter into covenant with each other, agreeing to take each other for life together, no matter what that life brings. It is sorrowful and disastrous when the covenant is broken. It is joyful when the covenant is renewed or made again. For there is peace and hope, earnest compact with one another.

At the communion, you have opportunity to become a part of a solemn covenant between your soul and the soul of God. It is a covenant sealed with the body and blood, the fully-given life of our Lord, Jesus. The Christ still lives for us in the covenant.

Come, then, at each communion with your own new, or renewed promise to obey God in rightness, and let Him fulfill His promise for you even as you do it.

[Read the UCC Statement of Faith].

-------------------------

Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, April 7, 1966.

Also at Kalahikiola Church, April 3, 1969.

Also at Waioli Hiu’ia Church, January 17, 1974.