Faith Works 9-30-17

Faith Works 9-30-17

Jeff Gill

 

At the destination of our journeys

___

 

This weekend, the first of October, is when Christians around the globe observe World Communion Sunday.

 

Not every tradition has what's called "the Lord's Supper" at every worship service; Catholics and most Anglicans and many Lutherans and my own Disciples of Christ do so, but quite a few Protestant traditions have communion just once a month, once a quarter, or even just once or twice a year.

 

So the first Sunday of October became a good target date to try to gather in all of those schedules so there might be one occasion where we all might be mindful of each other, in different traditions, gathered around the same table. Presbyterians in Pittsburgh are proud of having gotten this ecumenical ball rolling, and I'm happy to give it a push.

 

The larger point has to do, I would say, with the Great Banquet. The meal at the end of the road. A welcome place with room for all. You can visualize it in many ways, but as we're all on a journey, the question is asked: where are we going? The book of Revelation at the end of the Bible offers some strange and wonderful images, but there's a marriage supper at the conclusion as we enter the City of God.

 

You've been to a wedding reception, I'm sure. They're all different, and they're all the same. There are guests of honor, there are family and friends from near and far, there is food both familiar and unusual: homey snacks before, and a mighty cake at the culmination waiting for everyone to share.

 

Looking around, you see familiar faces, and strange ones. You ask around, and don't you always hear "sure, you know them; that's cousin Lemuel from her side of the family twice removed"? There are people you should know, those you forgot you knew, and people you're glad you met.

 

This is what most of us who believe in Heaven think it is like. Do I literally think I'm getting carrot cake with cream cheese icing in the life to come? Not exactly, but the joy I have in tasting it now, with memories and expectations and goodness all coming together . . . that's just a taste of what I believe God intends for us in time's fullness.

 

And as for the Great Banquet, the "marriage supper of the Lamb," the King's feast, the message of that imagery is what we all know in our bones of this life: that if you invite someone to come to your table and eat with your family, they are being invited into a new relationship that goes beyond just those minutes or hours for a particular meal. You are now family, even if you travel away and are a long time gone. There's a tie that is likely to last over the years until you return, the prodigal of sorts, who will be welcomed and even celebrated on your return.

 

That is a huge element of what many of us see in worship at the communion table. The elements of the meal are small, and the symbolism our various traditions read differently, but the point is the same. This table, to which we are invited by our gracious Host, is a meal of fellowship that hints at a greater banquet that has no end.

 

There's also a sort of tradition that when the family gets together, you dig the extra leaves for the big table in the dining room out of the hall closet, behind the winter coats. You pull the end cabinet around and stretch the tablecloth over it; you set a card table up in the front room or back of the kitchen or even in the garage, and there is a special privilege to being at that "kids" table. Many elements come together but it is undoubtedly one table, even if Uncle Albert has to shout the grace around a few corners as we hold hands and bow our heads.

 

One table. Liturgical or simple worship; concert halls and auditoriums; newer church plants and old established buildings. Carved wood with Gothic letters in front saying "This Do In Remembrance of Me" or a card table with a cloth over the top. But from time zone to time zone this Sunday, from place to place, across denominational boundaries, we join as God's family, as brothers and sisters in Christ, to share in this holy meal. One.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's looking forward to communion every weekend, but this one especially. Tell him about tables of welcome you have known at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.