Communion in Diaspora
Every time we gather for Dinner Church worship as +KINDRED we say that this is “a community that gathers for a sacred meal, just as Jesus and the first followers did.” As a public health crisis moves our community to remain at home, we embody love for our neighbor by keeping them safe with our physical absence. At the same time, the question lingers in our hearts, “how do we practice our faith, particularly in worship, within these unprecedented circumstances.” It reminds me of a favorite song based on Psalm 137. “The Rivers of Babylon” sings the story of the Jewish people in diaspora, dispersed, captive and cut off from their homeland and their beloved places of worship. Scripture and these lyrics sorrowfully wonder, “how can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?” They are unsure how it could even possible, but at the same time they are still singing.
In the way of faithful ancestors, we continue to gather as a community of faith in new ways while participating in ancient promises. Even as Dinner Church goes digital, we continue to partake in mystic sweet communion.
It’s not only habit or tradition that leads us to continue this sacred meal, but our very understanding of God and God’s gifts. The reason we bless bread and cup with God’s words of promise and serve them to one another each week is because we regularly need this reminder of grace and life. We are hungry for God’s presence and we need regular refreshment. If it were practical to gather every day, we would do it every day. Because this meal is more than a reminder. It is an actual experience of God’s grace and life in a way that connects us and connects to our bodies as a part of our soul. This shared nourishment of body and soul is especially vital in these days of loss and isolation.
This meal has always been one that we share within community. In fact, it is what holds us in community through the power of the Holy Spirit. It is itself, from one table, one plate, one cup…the body and blood of Christ broken, poured out, and given to many…a divine mystery of connection and distribution. It is a holy gift that draws from and extends relationship. That community and our relationship is STILL real even as it’s digital and different for a time. We serve one another, but it is not in secret or seclusion, even if we are physically by ourselves. We are still engaged with one another as we share and serve through the wonder of technology.
In sharing this meal, even across screens from wherever we stay with whatever food and drink we have, we reckon with the truth that this blessing has never been about the location or the stuff or the credentials of the one offering these gifts of God. It has always been God’s gift to us and for us, through Christ and nothing else. This meal is not magical. These words are not incantation. It is not made holy by anything we do, but by who God is. It is a means of God’s grace which we proclaim we can neither add to nor screw up. Whether it’s plated with homemade sourdough or gas station doritos, whether the drinks are served in the perfect fluted glass or a fading plastic souvenir cup- whatever table gathers us and offers this nourishment of food and drink and everlasting promise…is God’s table. This moment brings us to realize in new and profound ways that it has always been God’s table and that God’s table is endless.
In this meal we celebrate a God who consistently shows up and acts through the ordinary and everyday, the imperfect, even through chaos and what tradition might consider profane or sacrilegious. We have never been able to box Jesus in or lock God out. The Gospel of John declares that the resurrected Christ still arrives through locked doors among scared disciples. God’s love is unstoppable. This feast of love is a reflection of God’s being – accessible to all. It points to the sacredness of common staples that are available to any and all. Indeed, I wonder if we have not actually done damage to our understanding of the sacrament by distorting it into specialized places and objects so that it appears so foreign from the average person’s table where it was instituted. Yet the meal itself declares that God doesn’t reside among the limits and rarities, but the here and now.
How it is that God loves so freely or comes to us in this simple and profound way that strengthens and fills us up even and especially when we feel weary or empty…has always been a mystery. We wonder how it can even be possible, even as we lean into and upon this life-giving mystery, now as always.
Among friends, gathered around a table, we remember that this is not forever, but that God’s grace is surely sufficient and indeed overflowing.