A Fourth Church Sermon by Victoria G. Curtiss

July 5, 2009 | 4:00 p.m.

Eating at the Welcome Table

Victoria G. Curtiss
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 23
1 Corinthians 11:20–34

Last week I was on retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky, where Thomas Merton lived his life as a monk. There is a large plaque by the door to the registration office that quotes St. Benedict, the founder of the abbey’s religious order. It says, “Receive all guests as if they are Christ.” One might not pay much attention to it, just as we might not think much about signs that say “Peace to all who enter here.” But, in fact, hospitality is one of the essential tenets of St. Benedict. This was fleshed out in the welcoming comments made by the Guestmaster, Father Damien.

Father Damien greeted our group of about thirty persons by saying, “The kingdom of God is real. It is right here, now. Within you and me. Make it come alive this week. Be conscious of everyone in the group. Experience the kingdom of God by giving space to one another. You may not need silence and space, but your friend, your brother and sister, may.” And later in the week he taught, “We take the piece of bread and say, ‘This is the body of Christ.’ We drink from the cup and say, ‘This is the blood of Christ.’ And then we come to know that this”—pointing to us—”is also the bread and the cup. God says, ‘You are the vessel in which I bring my Son alive.’”

Father Damien was reinforcing to us that we are the body of Christ, and we need to honor one another as members of that body. That is also what Paul was seeking to teach the new church he had planted in Corinth. In the reading of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians that we just heard, we sense Paul was perturbed. Word had reached him that the Christians in Corinth were celebrating communion “in an unworthy manner.” What upset Paul was the way the participants were acting toward each other. He wrote, “When you come together, it is not for the better but for the worse.”

Apparently what was happening was this: They met in one another’s homes, often in a large home. The Lord’s Supper was part of a common meal, an early version of the church potluck. The more well-to-do—those who didn’t have to work late into the day—arrived early, helped themselves to the food, and drank most of the wine, even to the point of intoxication. Working-class members were not able to come until later, by which time the food was mostly consumed. Those who were poorer went hungry, because little was left.

Such distinctions of rank and status were not unusual in Greek culture. The more privileged customarily received more and better food than others. But Paul was outraged at this happening in the church. They had not “discerned the body.” He told them, “You are the body of Christ. You are called to exemplify this identity of ours—which you do not do when you act callously toward your brothers and sisters. We are equal at Christ’s table. His guests. Remember—and honor—the self-giving love of Jesus, who scandalously invited everyone to his table, whoever showed up, including the wrong kind of people.

Wiliiam McElvaney writes that “the Lord’s Supper is a corporate act of sharing and solidarity, not an individual act of piety or self-gratification without regard to other members of the faith community. Equal sharing when all are present, waiting for each other, and concern for those who have nothing implies equality, a foundation for justice” (Eating and Drinking at the Welcome Table, p. 60).

In our celebration of communion, we won’t have to worry about anybody overeating or getting drunk—not on one morsel of bread or a single swallow of juice. And everybody will get the same amount. But that instruction to “discern the body”—to see how well, or whether, we exemplify the body of Christ—still applies. It applies when we gather for a meal at the garden or in Anderson Hall. It applies in every way we treat our neighbor. To exemplify the body of Christ means that everyone is welcome to the community meal. It means making sure everyone is fed and has enough. It means befriending one another and acting together for justice in our world. This is our witness to our oneness in Christ.

Joy Jordan-Lake, a pastor in Massachusetts, wrote a communion reflection called “For You and for You,” in which she said,

Face upon face and life upon life and you discover that what they say about how sharing pain lessens it is not quite true. Quite the opposite: her pain and his pain and their pain become your pain too—they weren’t yours before. Somehow the pain becomes greater when it is passed around. But so does the healing. And so does the hope. And so does the joy. This is my body, this is my blood.

Christ speaks among us and something peculiar happens: you and I and they, we are all marking our seven-year anniversary without a date; we are all approaching ninety-five and widowed; we are all getting married in July. We are all without the children we long for, have prayed for; we are all raising children who are handicapped, rebellious, precocious, impossible, delightful; we are all expecting a baby. We are all torn between tremendously flattering job offers in Singapore and San Diego; we are all on SSI, permanently unemployed. We are all planning on jogging the twenty-mile Walk for Hunger; we are all facing major surgery. We are many and we are one and we are happy and hurt and much in need of grace, of hearing This is my body, this is my blood, for you.” (Christian Century, 23 October 1996)

The entire multicolored, many-tongued, north and south, comfortable and war-torn, well-fed and starving universal body is welcome. Experience the kingdom of God come alive here, now.