Understanding the Mysteries We Have Experienced: The Lord’s Supper

a sermon on 1 Corinthians 11:17-33
by David C. Mauldin


Today we will celebrate the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. You should feel strongly about this. You may feel angry … because this powerful symbol of Christian unity divides Christians more than it unites us most of the time, as churches argue whose interpretation is most correct. You may feel awe and wonder … because you are handling and tasting the mysteries of God. You may feel doubt … is this something more than a human ritual, and if so, what? You may feel overwhelming gratitude … at the grace of God experienced in this meal. You may feel joy … remembering that Jesus died for you, and rose again, that you might have eternal life. You may feel any combination or all of these things. But the one thing you must not feel is indifferent. You must not participate in the Lord’s Supper routinely, as if you were brushing your teeth or getting dressed. Unlike baptism—which happens only once, so we make a big deal out of it—the Lord’s Supper is a regular part of the Christian life. Regular does not mean routine. We will experience something special today.

Because the Lord’s Supper is a regular part of the Christian life, a good pastor talks about it from time to time. How does our church understand the Lord’s Supper? Why do we celebrate it the way we do? What are you saying when you participate? I want to come at these questions by sharing some of my various experiences of the Lord’s Supper with you, and I invite you to reflect on your own experiences. We will work our way backwards into the Biblical text.

The Lord’s Supper is odd in this way: For some Christians it is the heart of their relationship with God; others only do it because everyone else does, and if they never shared in the Lord’s Supper again they would not feel they were missing anything. Most of us are somewhere in between. A good understanding of what the Supper means helps, as does an openness to God, but I have not figured out what causes the difference. I hope this sermon will enhance your participation wherever you are on the spectrum.

I have certainly grown in my appreciation for the Lord’s Supper, and that may be the main reason why I am a Presbyterian. My first experience of Presbyterian worship included the Lord’s Supper. The church of my childhood had observed the Supper only once every quarter, and the mood was always extremely somber. Not just reverent, but dark. I remember the organ grinding out dirges. The only thing like it in my experience was my grandfather’s funeral. The first time I joined Presbyterians at worship, the Supper was different. First, the congregation participated more. The celebration was more liturgical, and the prayer of thanksgiving was long; but that allowed us to have a part in it. We also filed up to the front to tear off a piece of bread, dip it in the cup, and eat it—a process I learned is called intinction. We do that here on Christmas Eve. Second, the mood was joyful. Still reverent. The focus remained Christ’s sacrifice, but it was the cross seen from this side of Easter.

By the way, have you noticed that I monkey a bit with the words of institution to emphasize this point? Every pastor administering the Lord’s Supper says the words of institution, quoting Paul, who quotes Jesus, in the passage I read. They begin, “On the night when he was betrayed …” and go to “… until he comes.” Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Baptist, non-denominational, Presbyterian, Methodist, whatever—everyone says the words of institution. That’s just how the Lord’s Supper is done. After quoting Jesus, Paul comments, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” So important is the Resurrection, however, and so inseparable from the cross, that when I began administering the Supper, I added, “You proclaim the Lord’s death and resurrection until he comes.” I stand by the addition, and I don’t think Paul would object. For a while, however, I though I was a very clever and innovative pastor. Then I learned that Saint Basil had made the exact same addition back in the fourth century, and that millions of Eastern Orthodox Christians hear “my” line every Sunday.

The point is, the Lord’s Supper is three-dimensional. It looks back to Jesus’ death and resurrection. In it we experience the presence of the living Jesus today. And it anticipates the future, when God’s work will be complete and we all sit together at the great banquet we read about in scripture. Growing up I encountered only one of those dimensions.

What is the difference between the terms Lord’s Supper and Communion? We use them interchangeably, although technically communion refers to the actual eating and drinking, as opposed to the prayers and words of institution. Use either term, and any Presbyterian will know what you mean. Some churches, such as the Catholics and Episcopalians, prefer to call the Lord’s Supper “the Eucharist.” This comes from the New Testament Greek word for “thanksgiving.” The Supper is a celebration, an expression of thanks. Actually, a good church will vary the mood of the Supper through the church year. A more somber, penitential mood is appropriate during Lent, and especially on Maundy Thursday. Obviously a joyful mood works at Easter and Christmas. During the rest of the year, different facets of the Supper can shine through. The Lord’s Supper is like a diamond, through which the light of the gospel shines and dances. Tilt it a bit one way or another, and the brilliance of the light changes. You can never see all of the brilliance of a diamond at once, and you can never experience the full meaning of the Lord’s Supper at one time. That is why we do it often.

Just as my understanding of the Lord’s Supper has grown, so has the understanding and practice of the Presbyterian Church. If you go to the headquarters of the Presbyterian Historical Society at the Montreat Conference Center in North Carolina, you can find a curious artifact on display. In their museum they have a number of Communion tokens. In the old days, say the 18th and into the 19th century, Presbyterians were very particular about who could partake of the Lord’s Supper. Churches would have the Supper only once or twice per year, and the Session had a lot of work to do to get ready for it. Elders had to visit every member of the congregation in order to ascertain their spiritual well-being. Any struggles with your faith? Any serious sins? That sort of thing. If you were in good standing and judged worthy to take the Lord’s Supper, you were given a token. You would bring this token to the service and hand it to the minister before you were served. No token: No Communion.

You are probably horrified and glad we do not do that anymore. It is better that we don’t, though I wonder if elders and pastors today have the pulse of the congregation the way those people did. They were not trying to be difficult. They were trying to protect people. They took with utmost seriousness Paul’s warning to the Corinthians: “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread and drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup.” Our Presbyterian ancestors did not want people to eat or drink judgment against themselves, so they took extraordinary precaution in serving the Lord’s Supper.

We have changed our practice, in part because we have a better understanding of what Paul is saying in this passage. He warns against the danger of eating and drinking without discerning the body, or the Lord’s body. What does he mean? Is he talking about whether you believe the bread literally becomes the body of Christ? Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Episcopal Christians all believe the bread becomes Christ’s body in some sense. At the opposite extreme are the Baptists, for whom the Supper is solely an act of remembering by the church. Somewhere in the middle are we Presbyterians. We believe the bread remains bread, and the juice remains juice; but, and this is what makes us somewhat unique, we believe we feed on Christ spiritually. Our views go back to Calvin, who said it is wrong to think we bring Christ down to the table; instead, the Holy Spirit lifts us up to heaven. The Supper is a symbol, but it is not an empty symbol that points to nothing. In the Supper, God acts to unite us with our Lord Jesus Christ. But all of this, of course, was not what Paul was talking about.

The body Paul wanted the Corinthians to discern was the church, which he often called “the body of Christ.” Apparently, the Lord’s Supper was part of a larger meal in Corinth. Christians would come together, eat a fellowship dinner, and then share the Lord’s Supper. The theory was sound, but the practice was awful. Some of the Corinthian Christians came early, ate their fill, and got drunk. Later, when other who had to work came in, nothing was left. Some were drunken gluttons while other went hungry. And the Lord’s Supper is supposed to be a powerful symbol of our unity as believers! Paul was disgusted, and he told them so. This explains much of what he says in the passage I read.

Discerning the body and partaking of the Supper in a worthy manner are the reasons why we Presbyterians invite all Christians to join us in celebrating the sacrament. Some denominations have rules about who may partake. Because the Lord’s Supper is the Lord’s, not ours, and because it makes a bold statement about our relationship with Christ and through him with all believers, we invite all who believe and have been baptized to join us. It would be false and irreverent to invite non-Christians to celebrate the sacrament. Once they understood what it means and how it is an action that professes faith in Christ, they probably would not want to. Everything else we do is open to all. This alone is for Christians only, and the reason why is rooted in the Supper itself. It is not ours to give, just as it is not ours to withhold from any other Christian.

We have changed our practice in another way in more recent years. The 1950s and 60s saw debates among Presbyterians about the participation of children at the Lord’s Table. I won’t get into the finer details, but we decided that if we are going to baptize them, then they are part of the church. So here is our rule: If a child has been baptized, and is being instructed in the Christian faith, he or she may partake of the Lord’s Supper at his or her parent’s discretion. Children should be taught the meaning of the Lord’s Supper to the extent they can understand it, and they should join us in the celebration when the are ready.

Let me sum up that meaning for all of us: The Lord’s Supper is a joyful celebration … given to us by Christ himself … in which we remember his death and resurrection … experience his presence … and look forward to his coming again. It is both an act of the church and an act of God. Got that? A joyful celebration, given by Christ, whom we remember, experience, and anticipate. By eating and drinking we make a bold statement about our relationship with Christ. And as we eat and drink, God does something. What is that? God unites us with Jesus Christ.

I wish ever member of our church could go with me to serve the Lord’s Supper to the involuntary absent. That is, those who are temporarily sick or more permanently shut in. It is one of the things about my job that I love. And the stories I could tell. I rarely get chewed out by a member of my congregation, but at a previous church I had my head handed to me by a woman because I asked if she would like to have an elder and me bring Communion to her. She let me know that that was something for people who were old or sick, and she was neither. She was actually in her nineties and unable to go much of anywhere. Even when she moved into a nursing home, she never let me bring Communion. It would have been, for her, an admission of weakness, I suppose. But it should not be that way.

The pastor I worked with in Nashville had back surgery while I was there. I filled in during his recovery; and on the first Sunday of the month, an elder and I showed up at his house with Communion. He was deeply moved. For decades he had brought the sacrament to others, but this was the first time anyone had brought it to him. This is an important way we let people know that the church never abandons them.

Perhaps most meaningful was the occasion I shared the sacrament with a true saint who died later that afternoon. She knew the Lord Jesus Christ, and he was present with us. It is one of those things you would just have to be there to understand. I often feel inadequate talking with people who are about to die. I try to listen, but a pastor should have some word of hope. That day the Lord’s Supper did the talking, far better than I could have. We ate the bread of life and drank the cup of salvation and experienced the grace of God.

My worst moment as a pastor came on another occasion. I was serving the sacrament to an elderly couple in their home. An elder was with me. An elder or deacon must always be present to represent the church because the Lord’s Supper is not something private. It is done for and by the entire church. Partaking unites us with other believers, so we always have at least one beside the pastor present. Anyway, the woman of the couple had Alzheimer’s. I knew she would not remember the elder or me; but when she did not recognize Communion, I was shaken. Certainly the grace of God was upon her, and Christ was present with her. She had lost the Lord’s Supper, though, and I had to console myself that she would never be lost to God.

I could go on and on with stories. The Supper is powerful, as most people who have been in the church a long time know. I am not going to exhaust the topic or answer all your questions, so perhaps we should move from talking about the Lord’s Supper to sharing it.

Let me summarize and then close with a line from the new Study Catechism. I invite you to think about this as we celebrate the Supper together. First, to summarize: the Lord’s Supper is a joyful celebration … given to us by Christ himself … in which we remember his death and resurrection … experience his presence … and look forward to his coming again. It is both an act of the church and an act of God. Second, and finally: “As I receive the bread and the cup, remembering that Christ died even for me, I feed on him in my heart by faith with thanksgiving, and enter his risen life, so that his life becomes mine, and my life becomes his, to all eternity.” Amen.