The church
that I grew up in was the same that I was dedicated in as a baby and worshipped
at for the following twenty-three years. There are many aspects of this
experience that I am still unpacking, which can be difficult to do so in
earnest when it has been the primary informant for many of my early theological
ideas. The church is affiliated with the Associated Gospel Church (AGC)
denomination, and has close relationships with other Baptist churches around
the city. Additionally, the local university’s seminary is Baptist as well,
increasing my insulation to different theological streams. There was a strange
tension between having the idea that we were very theologically informed, and
yet having no formal catechesis process, which resulted in a kind of culture
that the way things were done, and the way things were thought about, were
simply what Christianity itself were. I only later understood
why those who tended to call themselves “non-denominational” were primarily
from Baptist, Evangelical upbringings.
Coming out
of this context, I was struck with the depth and significance given of the
Eucharist that was in other traditions. It is on this background that I will
address the practice of taking the Eucharist at this church. How this was
approached at church largely informed how I think of grace and how God relates
to us both despite, and due to, the fact that Communion seemed to be a marginal
practice. What follows is my evaluation of what the practices meant, or rather,
how they manifested themselves to me. Without delving too far into my pre-teen
psyche, I will say that my experience with preparing to take Communion was
fraught with anxiety. It was generally frowned upon for children to take part
in Communion, although some families did allow their children to do so. My
parents were particularly insistent on not taking Communion before you could
fully understand what was going on. This was part of an emphasis on internal
preparation, and ‘readiness’ to come to the table. Turning thirteen allowed me
to understand what was really going on through Christ’s death on the cross,
however I had been barred from partaking for so long, I did not know how to
proceed now that I was allowed to truly remember. It was remembrance that was
emphasized, rather than any present grace or future eschaton with the
recitation of Luke 22:19 as the closest manifestation of a liturgy. We took of
the ‘bread and wine,’ manifested as crackers and grape juice (in individual
cups), as what was important was what they represented, rather than the
elements themselves. Lacking an overt explanation of why things were done as such
implied that there was no objective importance to what was done – it was not
tied into our larger experience as the church body or historical narrative,
rather our personal reflection on what Christ did for us. Further, by focusing
on remembrance there was overwhelming emphasis on Christ’s death. We remember,
and are thankful for his sacrifice.
There was
a strange degree of solemnity for a purely symbolic observance. I am inclined
to believe that the fact that it was symbolic made it that much less
accessible. This emphasis on Christ’s sacrifice was reinforced through the most
important and most serious Communion service on Good Friday. Throughout the
year, Communion services were held once a month – although not explicitly
stated, I was impressed with the importance of the service, with it only being
once a month. It should not be taken for granted, or become routine by having
it more frequently. The focus on Christ’s sacrifice, and thus his death for our
sins reinforced that we needed to acknowledge what this meant for us,
personally. The preamble before the monthly service was generally the same, in
talking about the importance of remembering Christ’s sacrifice, and we ought to
be sure to pay credence to the event of the crucifixion, and remember the price
paid for our forgiveness. This seemed to undercut the grace given, as we were
sure to feel the appropriate amount of regret as payment for this gift of
grace. The operating paradigm was very much that of personal salvation.
Salvation primarily means that we are to be thankful to God for forgiving our
sins, because Jesus Christ sacrificed so much. We are able to come to the table
because we have asked for forgiveness. There was a shift partway through my
attendance of this church, from being served in our seats through passing trays
of crackers and the juice (although they were still referred to as the bread
and wine) to having the elements stationed at the front of the sanctuary. This
move was made to represent our active choice to reach out to God and His gift
of salvation, as we had to move up to the front, rather than passively
receiving the elements in our seats.
The
presentation of Communion as something that someone must individually prepared
for, and individually partake in showed an incomplete picture of God’s grace.
Communion was both incidental to our faith, while at the same time having
almost unspeakable importance, in putting it off until one could intellectually
grasp what they were entering into. This importance though was not explicitly
named, and I would suggest the gravity with which it was presented (in terms of
truly understanding Jesus’ sacrifice) tells only part of the story, and is
frankly a shadow of what the sacrament of the Eucharist is supposed to be. I am
largely in the reaction phase having stepped out of this context, yet I do not
want to paint this experience in a wholly negative brush. There are certainly
elements of this practice that are important, however the practices enacted
that they are trying to avoid (ritualism, transubstantiation, etc.) are not
such that they must be so obviously side-stepped as to make Communion hardly a
sacrament.
The main
elements that were distinctive of this Communion service, or spoke directly to
how this congregation conceptualized God were that it was explicitly a symbolic
gesture, it was an act of remembrance, particularly remembering Christ’s
sacrifice, it was highly individualized and internalized. By not framing a
Communion service as sacramental, that is, not a means in which God interacts
with us in the physical world, it creates a dualistic framework between
spiritual reality and corporeal reality, individual, inner salvation and the
ongoing redemption of creation through Christ. This individualized approach not
only creates the false dichotomy, but then relegates our salvation to the
‘spiritual side.’ This lends itself to become a personalized experience, and
general conception of salvation. Communion is about your response to God,
rather than God’s active work in the world – or, simply both. Our encounter of
God’s grace does not precipitate at the table itself, but rather in what occurs
prior to the table. There is no conceptual overlap through the consumption of
the elements and the reception of grace. We are closer to God because we have
once again come before him, and have acknowledged his sacrifice, not due to any
grace or effectual change that is a result of participating in the Eucharist.
There was dialogue of grace, and our reception of God’s grace through Christ’s
death and resurrection, but Communion was not a culmination of this.
Emphasizing personal preparation to come to the table through reflection,
repentance, and prayer makes the elements an accessory – the work has been
done. Although approaching the table was explained to be a response to God’s
grace, there was still room left for coming improperly (unconfessed sin, or
‘inadequate’ repentance). This is not to dismiss the gravity of abusing the
Eucharist, however this is generally warned against due to the real substance
that is present in the elements.
Having
Communion as a symbolic, internal exercise reduces the scope of what the Eucharist
is meant to capture. Focusing on Christ’s death and resurrection very much
historically dates the touch point of God’s grace. The Eucharist is indeed
grounded in real events in human history. However, when primarily manifested as
an exercise of reflection, this becomes limited to an event in the historical
past, rather than an event that has far-reaching (all-reaching, rather)
effects. Even more than ‘ripple effects,’ there is no ongoing work that is
equally grounded in human historical narrative. The message of hope that is
presented in this model of Communion is that we have hope because we have been
redeemed, but this is limited to our present and past condition. It proclaims
that Christ has died for our sins, yet the scope of that message is stunted.
A
foundational principle in rhetoric of the sacraments, why they are what they
are, and their importance to the Church is that God implemented them due to our
creaturely nature and the difficulty that comes with this. He gave us something
physical to orient ourselves, as we could not otherwise grasp spiritual
principles. This may at first seem to be a simplification of the human
condition, or denying the idea that we are both physical and spiritual; having
physical reminders is helpful, but without them we cannot begin to encounter
God? However, in a real way, we do indeed need physical reminders, as is
evidenced by what becomes of our sacraments when this reality is ignored. Even
more, we do not simply need physical reminders of spiritual things, but an incarnational
model of how God manifests himself in the world.
Regarding
the solemnity that surrounded a Communion service at this church (due to the
focus on personal sins, and Jesus’ death), there are important theological
impulses behind this, and though the practice should not be limited to this
focus, it does well to highlights the difficulty of our sinful nature and how
it is a real barrier to us before God. It does not fully align with the
symbolic nature of that particular service of Communion, yet it is an aspect of
salvation that should not be glossed over; our brokenness is complete before
God. That said, this is grossly limited in terms of the story it tells and
stops short of the nuances of how this gap is bridged. Focus on mental
preparation places an undue burden on the receivers of God’s grace. In this
context the elements are not an intermediary to God’s grace, but an expression
of having already been cleansed. In an ideal context this may not be as
problematic as it is often manifested: we remember, we are thankful for God’s
grace and come to the table. What makes this difficult to achieve in many
similar contexts is that Communion is primarily framed as
remembrance, and thus an exercise in re-living the death of Christ and the
gravity of sin that brought it about. In this light, we do indeed respond to
God’s grace, but this is secondary. The largest misappropriation of the
elements in this context is that it inadvertently paints a picture in which God
receives us at his table only once we have mentally and emotionally realized
the beauty of his grace.
Indeed, God’s
grace is sufficient, and grace itself is not transmitted through the ingestion
of the elements. Where this story stops short is that we cannot actually be
ready to come to the table in a fundamental sense. That is, we do not make
ourselves ready. The message and function of the Eucharist is God’s coming to
meet us, rather than us preparing to meet God.
