Observation: Paul has harsh words for the Corinthian Christians. He is leading up to 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, on which our "words of institution" at the table are based ("In the night in which he was betrayed, Our Lord Jesus took bread..."). But rather than berating the Corinthians for an improper understanding of the nature of Communion (something Christians in the last 500 years have had such fun fighting about) Paul is tackling another problem entirely: the lack of community and compassion at the table.
It seems in Paul's time, Christian worship was not just a symbolic meal, but an real one: families would essentially bring a "picnic dinner" to eat together with the church as part of the worship service. The problem was that the families with more food (and time) to spare would agree to get together earlier, and share their plentiful resources among themselves, so that when the poor church members got there, the food was gone and some of the wealthy folks had already overindulged with alcohol. The meal had become just a meal, subject to the same rigid class and culture rules as any other meal, instead of a meal in the name and presence of the Lord, who fed all comers until they were satisfied. Where Jesus had intended unity, there was only division and injustice.
Application: Sometimes we forget that the Lord's Supper is not just a meal of reconciliation and unity with God, but with our neighbors as well. Jesus doesn't set one table for Catholics, another for Orthodox and a third for Protestants. Jesus doesn't set one table for conservatives and another for liberals. He doesn't set one table for the rich and another for the poor, nor one table for Christians of European descent and another for everyone else. Jesus sets one table. You can show up to it, or you can stay home, but if you choose to eat with him, you eat with the family.
To me, this understanding is so much more important than any metaphysical hair-splitting about how and when Jesus is really present in the bread and wine. There's no such thing as a meal of connection to Christ, which does not also connect us to all those who call him Lord--even those from whom we are estranged. You can't come halfway to the table, any more than Jesus could halfway die for you. You are welcome; you are invited; Jesus longs deeply for your presence here. But whether you're in a country chapel or St Peter's Basilica, nowhere in this wide creation will you find private dining with the Lord. Jesus has promised to be present--each and every time--but he's bringing the family. We'd best get used to the idea.
Prayer: Jesus, thank you for your invitation to the table. The next time I come there, remind me of the width, the breadth and the depth of the reconciliation that happens there. Remind me of the person I'd least want to have there, and help me see them as you do. Amen.
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