Chapters 6 & 7 are the subject for our reflection this week ... "Eating the Body and Blood" and "Magic and Thanksgiving."In Chapter 6, Nora gives us some wonderful narrative glimpses into her personal encounters with the act of receiving communion -- of "eating the body and blood" -- beginning with her first experience of being left behind in the pew in a Roman Catholic Church:
I wanted to be with them rather than alone and obvious in the pew, but I really didn't want to eat Christ. If this was Communion, it was not for meShe ends the chapter with this invitation:
You may have some of the same issues with Communion that I had earlier in my life. Depending on how you grew up, you may have memories of Communion you did not like, or you may not know anything about it and therefore feel, as I did when I was eight, completely mystified and more than a little turned off. I would urge you to imagine a new story regarding Communion, rather than the one you may have experienced or heard about.
And concludes:
The more I show up at Communion, the more I see that there is not one Communion; there are many Communions.
So my first question this week is: Have you "imagined a new story" about Communion over time or does what you were taught as a kid still "stick" for you?
=============
In Chapter 7, I loved the part about the "two worlds:"
In Chapter 7, I loved the part about the "two worlds:"
"I want to place two worlds in front of you today: one is the world of propriety, rules and regulations, what is done and what is not done, lines that are drawn to keep people out ..." and the other is a world where we are "given the grace to leave behind our small lives, our drawn lines, our starvation diets, our immaturity, to feast at that heavenly banquet prepared for us at the foundations of the world."
And finally, this:
Jesus bets everything on this world. He sets it above principalities and powers. Above custom, practice, taboo and theory. Above canons, above the opinions of your neighbors. It is the place where mercy is infinite, where all that we need is given to us and even what we have rejected is returned to us. It is the kingdom of the living bread.
Another way to describe those two worlds can be found in the words of the former Bishop of Arizona, Robert Shahan, who famously said, "Faith is what you're willing to die for. Dogma is what you're willing to kill for."
And so my second question becomes: What do we have to give up -- not just for Lent but for good -- in order to live in that "second world" of grace, mercy, compassion and justice?
Chapters 6,7 & 8 fit together for me. my reflections on the three chapters became a long rambling journal entry from which I will spare you. The portion I will share is that by the time I reentered the church at 67 I had been involved in a solitary meditative spiritual practice, gone to chef school, and volunteered at a local youth center cooking dinners twice a week.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite cookbooks are from zen monasteries and I take a meditative approach to cooking. We open the dinner to the community and call it the Family Table. My community is small, it is a high poverty area, and has a number of fractured families. Drugs and alcohol make up many meals. As I looked around the table one evening I "saw" Jesus sitting at a table eating a meal with the poor and the misfits. I knew my solo spiritul practice was over, I wanted to be in congregation, and celebrate communion with others.
Someone gave me Sara Miles' book "Take this Bread"; the first chapter was titled The Family Table. Miles had gone from entering a church and taking communion, to feeding people. I had started with feeding people and moved to communion.
There are many other stories about the past 20 months that touch on forgiveness, gratitude, myth, magic, mercy, compassion; but most of all God's grace.
Regarding your second question, Susan, I need to give up being judgmental and patronizing. I have all the mercy and compassion for the "least of us". I am attentive and have patience and understanding when I work at the shelter or when I am building houses alongside a future homeowner with Habitat for Humanity, BUT if folks (at work/church or other places in the world) that have "more than enough" (in my opinion) tweek me in any minor way then I have a cutting remark ("how can they be so selfish, uncaring, etc.") or a knowing smirk. I must give up my rules for the way folks are suppose to be and look upon them graciously as I hope they look upon me, as a fallible and lovable human being who sometimes loses her way.
ReplyDeleteLastly, one thing that stayed with me from Chapter 7 was "We need concrete things that tie the ordinary to the extraordinary..". I so agree with this. Whether it is the Communion wafer or the wood,nails, paint, dirt and sweat on a Habitat build, it is the physical that many times draws me out of my head long enough to experience the Heart of God.
So I'm remembering a story about my son, Brian, and communion. He was about 10 when I graduated from seminary -- the School of Theology in Claremont ... a Methodist institution.
ReplyDeleteWhen it came time for our baccalaureate service, families were included so we all piled into Kresge Chapel for a service that included communion.
Brian -- being a cradle Episcopalian -- thought he had this nailed. Except the prayers came in a slightly different order than he was used to. And when we were heading up the aisle to receive communion it suddenly occurred to me that he was going to assume he should drink from the cup of wine rather than dip in the cup of grape juice (which was the custom.) So I whispered "dip don't sip ... I'll tell you later" to him as we neared the communion station and he rolled his eyes and did what I told him.
Finally, we got to the final prayer of Thanksgiving ... which started out the way he had memorized it, "Almighty and Everlasting God ..." and then went somewhere else.
Brian was TOTALLY disgusted. He folded his arms, sat down with a plop and then ... just as the prayer had ended in the nano-second of silence after the Amen ... said in a voice (he inherited from me) "You call this CHURCH? First they won't let you drink the wine and then they get all the prayers wrong!"
I'm not sure what the point is ... other than it reminds me that we can miss the point altogether of what's going around us in the mystery of the communion meal if we get so locked into having all the details the way we expect them ... like my Brian did at 10 years old ... that we miss the grace God would have us find -- sometimes in spite of ourselves and our expectations!