Tag Archive: Holy Communion


“Get Up and Eat!”

Sunday’s Sermon from Community Lutheran Church, Sterling, VA.

With all these readings about bread, I’ve been thinking about Holy Communion an awful lot.  In 2004, during my year abroad in Germany, I attended a tiny Lutheran church.  That first day I was there, they had Communion, but I didn’t go forward because I didn’t know the rules.  After the service, I asked the pastor in my slow German, struggling to pull together the right church words in another language, if I could receive communion.  “I wasn’t baptized Lutheran,” I’d told him.  I just remember the smile on his face as he said, “as long as you believe Christ is present there, you may receive.”  I felt so relieved to be welcomed at that table, able to be fed with the others gathered for worship.

When I returned home in 2005, I didn’t go to church since I was nervous because I’d had a difficult experience at a church when I was in high school.  But by 2007, I found myself really missing the community of faith.  I was hungry and thirsty for God, and I knew the only way I could grow in my faith was to try going to church again.  I needed Holy Communion – I needed to hear those words, “the body of Christ, given for you” and “the blood of Christ, shed for you.”  So I found a church, was welcomed again at the table, and I continued to heal from my past experiences with the church.

In 2012, during seminary, I studied for three months in Munich, Germany, living in a wonderful ecumenical community.  One night we gathered for worship in the small chapel, coming together from all different countries and denominations, singing, praying, listening to God’s word and sharing Holy Communion.  When the time came to distribute the bread and wine, the pastor gave to one person, and then that person distributed it to the next person, saying, in German: “Nimm und iss. Christi Leib, für dich gegeben” (“Take and eat.  Body of Christ, given for you.”).  I think the non-native German speakers were a little worried because no one wants to mess up speaking God’s promises to another person.  I know sometimes people get nervous speaking these words in English because they’re such important words of grace.

But then I saw the kingdom break in in a wondrous way.  When the bread reached a man from Brazil, he closed his eyes and spoke in Portuguese to his neighbor.  He spoke these words in the language that was close to his heart and said them the best way he knew how – authentically in his mother tongue.  As we went around the circle, others spoke in their native language.  But even with the variations in the words, you could tell that the words people used were the words that meant something to them.  It was wonderful to hear these powerful words in different languages and voices.  The variety brought such a richness to the experience and made me think about the feast to come – that colorful heavenly banquet, where people will be gathered from every corner of the world, from all different backgrounds and times, all speaking one language – the language of praise.

Running throughout my life, like a beautiful and life-giving thread, throughout various faith communities and around the world, Holy Communion has been there.  It has been a meal of welcome, of healing and forgiveness, a sign of the kingdom, a foretaste of the feast to come, and a challenge.  I would not have been able to make my journey without it and I hear that echoed in Elijah’s episode in the wilderness.  Elijah has just had an epic duel with the prophets of the Canaanite god Baal to see whose god is truly God.  Elijah and the Lord of Israel win the contest, and in a difficult bit of Scripture, Elijah has the prophets of Baal killed by the sword.  Queen Jezebel is outraged and threatens to kill Elijah, so he flees into the wilderness.

There, under a lone tree, he’s scared, exhausted, overwhelmed, perhaps feeling like a failure, and wondering what the future is going to hold for him.  Struggling with his situation and wishing for his own death, he lays down, tired of fighting, to get some rest.  It’s then that an angel of the Lord wakes him up, saying, “Get up and eat.”  He does, and then promptly lays back down for a nap after his holy snack.  But the angel of the Lord returns and tells him, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.”

Now, if I were Elijah, and I was exhausted and hungry, that angel would have to be awfully careful approaching me and telling me that I had a journey to get ready for! But he eats, and he’s sustained for 40 days and nights until he reaches Mt. Horeb where he will encounter God in silence and be called to go back into the fray.  He’s fed to go back out to do God’s work in the world.  He’s challenged not just to sit and be fed, but to use that sustenance and strength to be a part of God’s changing work.

Sometimes we find ourselves feeling wiped out, tired of all the rigmarole, and we don’t know how we’re going to make it.  We face illnesses, aging parents, difficulties with raising children, stress at work, struggles with our finances, problems at school… Sometimes all we want to do is curl up in a ball and stay under the covers.  And those first followers of Jesus felt the same way.  Those who followed, experienced his healings, listened to his teachings, and were fed by him, were a people who were tired of oppression under foreign rulers, tired of struggling to eke out a living, and wondering when their circumstances would change.  They knew all too well about poverty, discouragement, and hardship.

And when Jesus, a man whose family they know, says that he’s the bread of life – the one who will give life, not only now but eternally – well, that’s just too much for them! When he says – “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” – that must have sounded downright crazy to his listeners! They must have been thinking, “teachings are helpful.  Healings, feedings, and miracles, we love! But this is going too far. How on earth can we accept this?”

I think as much as we may try to avoid talking about it, we, too, have these feelings.  We hunger for God.  We long to believe in God’s promises.  We ache to know that things are changing and the kingdom is coming.  But sometimes we feel like Elijah and those first followers: tired, weak and broken down by all of the pain of our lives and the world.  And the thought of heading back out there is wearisome.  We come to this place and we desire to be fed.  We come to Communion and we wonder if a wafer and a sip of wine can change our lives.  We ask, “Can such a simple meal change me? Will Jesus really meet me there in such simple food?”

Yes. Yes, he will.  And this simple meal does change our lives.  You see, the God we worship doesn’t work the way we think or expect God to work.  God works through plain old water and every day, ordinary bread and wine.  God’s voice is heard through normal people reading from a book, through fellow bumbling disciples called to preach, and through every one of us ministering to others.  God’s presence and power are felt in praying for others, in unglamorously serving together in the community, in small acts of kindness and hospitality.  The glory of God worked through frail human flesh, vulnerable and weak, to redeem the entire cosmos.  Yes, Christ will meet us in bread and wine.  It’s just the sort of surprising, outrageous and laughable thing that God would do.

It’s easy to get caught up in life.  To be overwhelmed, even during summer vacation season.  To find ourselves running every which way and dealing with all sorts of things we never anticipated.  To find we have far too much on our plates, but realize we’re, ironically, not really being fed spiritually.  So how do we slow down, stop, and eat? How do we make time to receive and participate in that which is life-giving and life-sustaining?  How do we remember that when we open our hands, we’re not just going through the motions, but saying, “Jesus, I need you.  I can’t do it on my own.  Thank you for welcoming me.  Forgive me for the things I’ve done or failed to do.  Help me to follow you and strengthen me so I can serve you in the world.”

We are called to get up and eat – to receive the God who comes to us, the God who is continually drawing us to himself.  We may, like those following Jesus so long ago, have a hard time swallowing that Jesus can and will sustain us throughout the bumpy journey of life with all it’s twists and turns, peaks and valleys.  But the One who dwelt with us and experienced the hardships of life as we do, has conquered this world once and for all through the cross and resurrection.  We have nothing to fear.  He has promised to be with us and to meet us in broken bread and wine outpoured.  While it may seem that a morsel of bread and a sip of wine cannot possibly keep us going, time and time again, they give us forgiveness, hope and strength.  And as this food with God’s promise sustains us, slowly, but surely, Christ transforms us one little bit at a time.

God knows that it seems impossible.  That it seems too good to be true.  So we’re invited again and again to see, hear, touch, smell, and taste that the Lord is good.  To keep meeting God at this holy table to that we can remember that Jesus is the Bread of Life – the one who nourishes us so we can go out and live.  Because God knows we need this grace, we are invited over and over again to join the feast – young and old, rich and poor, no matter where we’ve come from.  God draws us and calls us to come and be refreshed – to get up and eat so that our life’s journey will not be too much for us.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

© 2015. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

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Sunday’s sermon on the Holy Trinity from Community Lutheran Church!

It’s Holy Trinity Sunday.  The day when it is incredibly easy to try to explain the mystery of God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and to end up either committing heresy or making everything even harder to understand.  As a result, there is a picture the Episcopal Church has made that has been circulating around the Internet this past week.  It features an adorable kitten and has these words: “How not to commit heresy on preaching the Trinity: Say nothing and show pictures of kittens instead.”

Adorable Kitten Trinity Meme

While this sounds like a wise plan, I think I’d be shirking my pastoral duty if we just watched cat videos this morning.  They might make us say, “awww,” but I want to focus on a different type of awe.

The call story of Isaiah, our first reading, is one of my favorite passages.  Isaiah, the prophet of God has this vision, in which he finds himself in the throne room of the Lord.  There, the Lord is sitting upon a throne and the Lord is so huge, so powerful, the hem – just the edges of God’s robe – fill the Temple! That’s a big robe.  Flying around the Lord are Seraphs or Seraphim.  Usually we think of these as mighty angels, some sort of winged, human-like figures, but in the Ancient Near East, these were understood to be fiery serpents with wings.  Yes, flaming, flying snakes! In Egyptian culture, these terrifying beasts were thought to protect the gods, but here, in Isaiah’s vision, they are serving God and covering their faces to shield themselves from God’s glory.  Now if I were Isaiah, and I saw terrifying fiery serpents with wings flying around and sheltering themselves from the power and might of God, I would know that I was in deep trouble.  And if I were there when the Temple started shaking because of the sound of their voices, I know I would have been looking high and low for a place to get out of dodge.  And then all the smoke! Oy veh!

With all this going on, Isaiah cries out, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!”  He knows he’s unworthy to be standing there, filled with awe in the presence of the LORD, and he’s worried about what is going to happen.  No one can see God and live.  The holy and the unholy shouldn’t mix.  But amazingly, God overcomes his fears, forgives his sins, and asks who will go out into the world on God’s behalf.  Forgiven and empowered, Isaiah says, “Here I am; send me!” and sets off to declare a difficult message to God’s people.

Isaiah is filled with complete awe as he stands before the Lord, bathed in the glory of the Lord of hosts, the Lord whose voice alone shapes, shakes, and remakes creation.  I know I’d be petrified if I were in his shoes, but even if we aren’t standing before God, aren’t there plenty of moments in our lives when we are filled with awe, wonder or a sense of the holy? Think about it.  How did you feel seeing a magic trick when you were a child? Or what about accomplishing something you didn’t think possible in school or sports? How about visiting a new place? Or surveying the wonders of nature? What about on your wedding day? Or when you saw your children born? What about at a joy-filled baptism? Or coming forward to receive communion? How about the sense of the holy at the bedside of a dying loved one?

Each of us has had moments that have taken our breath away, and filled us with a sense of wonder, awe, and a glimpse of God’s glory.  As the Seraphim say, and we sing every week during Communion, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.”  The whole earth is chock full of the glory of God.  God’s presence and work in the world inspire fear, respect, awe and a sense of wonder.  But do we cultivate that in our lives? Do we pay attention to all of the wondrous things that point to the awesome majesty of God? The chirping of birds or the miracle of beautiful flowers springing forth from bare earth.  The smell of sweet honeysuckle in the cool night air.  The laughter of children playing outside.  Music or dance that send your heart soaring.  The unexpected kindness of a stranger.  Being invited to the table to receive the body and blood of the most holy, magnificent God, humbled and broken for our sake.

There is plenty of bad news in the world along with plenty of distractions, but the mysterious, triune God we have invites us into lives of wonder and awe.  And we practice living those lives by being in worship together.  We listen to Scripture that tells us of God’s glory and love.  We are wondrously forgiven and fed.  We sing words of praise.  We look with awe and joy on the things God is doing in and through each of us.

We are a people who seek answers.  We are, after all, a Google people who have access to the world’s information at our fingertips.  We want proof.  We want certainty.  We want the concrete.  We want to know beyond a shadow of a doubt.  But maybe, just maybe, in the divine mystery of the Trinity, we’re invited into the shadow of a doubt.  We are invited to be like Nicodemus, searching for answers in the darkness and asking, “how can these things be?” We are invited to slow down and revel in the mystery of God and embrace that which is so much bigger than ourselves.  To delight in, find joy in, and swim in the amazement of this God who cannot possibly be put into a box.

That’s the kind of God I want to worship.  A God that’s bigger than anything I can come up with on my own.  A God that continues to challenge and push us beyond our comfort zones, to cross boundaries, to take risks and to love with abandon.  We cannot do that on our own, but we can do it with God’s help.

You see, that’s the truly wondrous and amazing thing about God.  God is not only the God of Isaiah’s vision – awesome and powerful, seated on a lofty throne.  No, God is also a God of relationship.  Not only relationship in the sense of God as three-in-one and one-in-three, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, but as a God who desires relationship with us.  As Paul explains, this is a God who has made us God’s own beloved children. We are children of that Almighty God on the throne, able to come to God through Christ and the Holy Spirit.  God is our loving parent and Christ our brother and, even more, we’re co-heirs of everything God has to give to Christ.  Wow.  That’s incredibly good news!

It’s news that means that God wants to be present and active in our lives and in our world – not distant, but near, and at work bringing about transformation in and through us.  When I really slow down and think about the fact that the God who commands the Seraphs, whose voice is thunder and lightning, who reigns over the heavens and all creation, wants to be at work in each of us, in you and me – that’s an extremely humbling thought that fills me with awe.  It’s the same thought that I have when receiving Communion – “thank you for using something so ordinary so that we can know your presence and your love.”

It must have been the feeling Isaiah had standing before God.  An everyday man, forgiven and cleansed by the purifying power of a hot coal, empowered to proclaim God’s word.  He wasn’t able to do this on his own, but through God at work, he was able to bear God’s message.  The holy touched the ordinary and transformed it.  So I ask you, in awe of God’s action in your life and the world, and forgiven through Christ, is the Spirit stirring up something in you? How might you spend time cultivating a sense of awe, wonder and even mystery toward God in your life? How might that affect your worship? And how might that affect how you live each day?

19-Isaiahs_Call

Holy Trinity Sunday invites us to think about the awesome God that we worship.  To step back and behold with humility, wonder and awe the glory of a God we cannot possibly pin down or understand completely.  May we see with eyes of faith the glory of God that fills not only the heavens, but earth as well.  Amen.

© 2015. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

This was this morning’s sermon, preached at Community Lutheran Church!

 

 

Today is a big day here at Community!  We’re celebrating 15 young peoples’ First Communion, and we’ve got two baptisms happening.  It’s a day full of joy! We’re welcoming people into the body of Christ in the waters of baptism and celebrating how we continue to grow and live out those baptisms through receiving God’s holy meal time and time again.

And we also have this wonderful passage about salt and light, cities on a hill and what it means to live out our faith.  This passage always makes me think of the musical Godspell:

You are the light of the world!
You are the light of the world!
But if that light is under a bushel,
It’s lost something kind of crucial
You got to stay bright to be the light of the world

You are the salt of the earth
You are the salt of the earth
But if that salt has lost its flavor
It ain’t got much in its favor
You can’t have that fault and be the salt of the earth!

I love musicals and this song makes remembering Jesus’ words catchy and jazzy!

However, I think when we hear this passage, our tendency is to think, “what do I have to do to be salt?” or “what do I have to do to be light?”  I think we hear Jesus’ words in the second part of the passage and they put us on edge: “Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.  For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Gulp.  Well, I’m out!  Good luck, right? To give you an idea, the rabbis, the descendants of the Pharisees, name 613 commandments or mitzvot to follow.  If we’re honest, it’s hard to even follow the 10 commandments, right? So how can we possibly reach such an incredibly high bar?! We can’t.  We all fall short. And thankfully, God knew this and took on humanity to do what we couldn’t do – to fulfill the law and the prophets.  And so we’ve been made righteous through Christ, our savior.  In God’s eyes, Christ has made us righteous – right before God – through his self-giving life and death on the cross.

We know this.  We are reminded of it week after week.  We remember it when we enter the church and see the font – the waters in which we were forgiven and welcomed as children of God.  We remember it when we are graciously invited to the feast and we hear those words, “‘Take and eat; this is my body, given for you.  Do this for the remembrance of me.’” “‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, shed for you and for all people for the forgiveness of sin.  Do this for the remembrance of me.’”

We know this incredibly good news and, yet, sometimes we lose sight of it.  Sometimes it remains in our heads and doesn’t quite connect with us in our hearts.  And so I hear in Jesus’ words in the Gospel today words of amazing promise: “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.”

You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.  You all know by this point that I love grammar.  So here goes!  “You all” – plural – meaning all ya’ll.  “Are” – present tense meaning right now, at this very instant!  Each and every one of you is salt and light! Great, you may be thinking, but what on earth does that mean?!

In the ancient world, both salt and light were precious.  Salt was a valuable trade commodity, a symbol of purity and wisdom in Mesopotamian thought, and was used in sacrifice.  It was, and is, a seasoning and a preservative, helping food last longer, and was also used as a cleansing agent.  Light was precious because people were dependent on the sun or lamps to see – remember, they didn’t have fluorescent bulbs in every building to making working or shopping easy! It was also a common metaphor of God and God’s salvation.

So what is Jesus saying when he says that we are salt and light? I think he’s saying, “You are a precious commodity, seasoning the lives of others around you.  You are a sign of God and you help others to see God’s salvation.”  What amazing words.  What empowerment.  What abundant grace.

Jesus doesn’t say that we will be salt and light if only we do this, that or the other thing.  Instead, he says you are already salt and light because you have been made bright and well seasoned! We have already been illuminated by the current of God’s love and grace running through our lives.

And Jesus doesn’t stop there.  Rather, he says that it is important to remain salty and illuminated! We do so by staying plugged in to God, as well as by letting our lights shine forth into the world. Jesus says that we aren’t to hide or misuse the gifts and the calling we have as children of God, but rather to put them to good use.  It’s even a part of the sacrament of baptism – the newly baptized receive a candle and hear, “Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Through the leading and strength of the Holy Spirit, we are to seek after and do our best to follow God, humbly serving and pointing to God.  We will make mistakes and mess up, and we will never be perfect, as much as this recovering perfectionist would love that! But just because we aren’t perfect doesn’t mean we can’t let our lights shine brightly or that we can’t make a difference.  Remember, God has made us light and salt and we have something to share with the world.  And no matter how often we fall short, God forgives us and frees us to go back out into the world – to make a difference by following Jesus, the Light of the world.

I’ve been thinking about being light and salt for a while now and trying to keep my eyes open to see where people are salty and bright.  And I’ve experienced some wonderful things! I’ve witnessed people listening to one another and comforting each other at the Compassionate Friends grief group.  I’ve seen people step up to shovel and salt the church sidewalks – more of a literal use of salt, I suppose! I’ve heard of the life-changing work that LINK is doing in our community.  And I’ve been reminded by so many of you in conversations, e-mails and phone calls the things you do day in and day out not only for this church, but for your jobs, schools, other non-profit groups and the larger community.

Those things may seem small or to go unnoticed, but those are the little things that help to season others’ lives – to have an impact on them.  As Catholic nun, Sister Jean, put it in a trailer for the upcoming documentary, Radical Grace, “In every encounter, something sacred is at stake.”  Even a smile, a kind word, or a simple action can shed light on God and reflect God’s light into someone’s life.

Being salt and light for the world means working for the kingdom of God.  It means calling for an end to injustice and standing with those who are oppressed and downtrodden.  It means comforting those who mourn and having compassion on the suffering.  It means speaking out against persecution and bullying, and caring for the hungry and the poor.  It’s a big job!

But we have been called and welcomed into this kingdom work in our baptisms.  We’ve been made part of a community – sisters and brothers all called to work together to make the world a bit brighter.  And we continue to be strengthened to do this work every time we receive bread and wine – the promise of Christ for us and with us.  We welcome others, grow in grace and share Christ’s love.

So as we celebrate with these young people being baptized and receiving communion for the first time today, may we hear the promises of God anew.  You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.

And in the words of Godspell:

So let your light so shine before men
Let your light so shine
So that they might know some kindness again
We all need help to feel fine.

Amen.

Beeswax Candles Burn Brightly by Golgotha in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem (Photo taken by Annabelle Markey in January 2014)

Beeswax Candles Burn Brightly by Golgotha in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem (Photo taken by Annabelle Markey in January 2014)

© 2014. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

 

 

For Times of Transition

On Wednesday, February 20, my classmates and I will will find out to which regions (there are nine in the country) we have been assigned as future pastors in the ELCA.  This is the first step in actually being called to serve in a congregation.  After regions, we’ll hear from bishops, letting us know to which synod we’ve been assigned (there are 65 synods, and each synod is like a diocese).

It’s an exciting time, pondering where we may be serving in just a few short months.  In what area of the country will we be?  What will the congregation be like?  What opportunities will we have? What challenges will we face?  Where will we live? What if it’s not at all what we’re expecting?  What if we are called to a place we don’t like? What if we’re called to the place we preferenced, but it’s not a good fit?  The questions and speculations seem endless.  And it’s tiresome.

My theme song for the past few weeks has been Phillip Phillips’ “Home.”  This song really makes me want to drive with all my windows down on a beautiful day.  It also makes me want to stomp my feet, clap and dance at some kind of folksy pub music night.  I think both are appropriate!

But beyond the driving, boot-stomping beat, Phillips’ soothing voice and the oddly fitting cross-country road trip video, I also just plain love the lyrics at this stage in my life:

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

I feel like I’m holding my breath before the next big step and listening to this song, I hear reassurance and the promises of God coming through these poppy, folksy lyrics.  My road is unfamiliar, but I need not feel alone, because I have a whole bunch of wonderful family, friends, fellow seminarians and sisters and brothers in Christ supporting me – just as I am supporting and praying for them.  And the God who has called me to this unfamiliar road is paving the way, leading me ahead, one step at a time.

The line, “settle down, it’ll all be clear,” helps me to remember to be still and to trust God (Psalm 46:10), or in the words of Cheri O’Teri on Saturday Night Live, to “simma down now!”  I’m reminded to take a break from worrying about what the future will hold and to enjoy the present, knowing that all will be revealed and I shouldn’t get into a tizzy about something that hasn’t even happened yet!

And about all those demons – the demons of worry, anxiety, stress, and doubt about my ability to actually do this – they just fill me will fear and make me forget how far God has brought me in the past few years.  They make me forget that God loves working through (and has chosen to work through!) normal people to bring about God’s kingdom.  Just as God worked through sinners, deniers, murders and all sorts of broken people in the past, God continues to do so today.  And God can work through me too 🙂

And even if I get lost along the way and make mistakes, there will always be the voice of God directing me back to the right road, embracing me in forgiveness and abundance grace.

So wherever we end up, I trust that God will make that place a home.  I trust that I will be given what I need to serve God’s people with compassion and faith.  To walk with them and pray with them.  To teach them and learn from them.  To preach God’s word and to hear them speak God’s word from their lips.  To administer the sacraments of baptism and holy communion and to worship with a new community of people.

I’m just praying that I remember to hold on to God as we go.  I’m just praying that I remember that my energy, strength and ability to serve find their source in God’s loving heart.  I’m praying that the Holy Spirit will keep the cross of Christ always clearly in my sight.  I’m praying and holding on for dear life as we leap into this next adventure!

© 2013. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

One Language

So all has been going super awesome here, but things have been quite busy and, once again, I’m later than I’d like to be on my blogging.  But tonight, something caught my attention and I had to write about it to think about and to chew on it some more.  I’ve been thinking a lot about Holy Communion for the past couple months.  Before I left, we heard the Gospel of John’s readings on bread, so I think that got me thinking.  And I preached a couple of those weeks, so that also made me really ponder these texts about Jesus, bread, wine, and Communion.

But I’ve continued thinking about Communion since I’ve been here.  During the past (almost!) two months, I have been absolutely blessed to participate in many different types of services.  Thus far, I’ve been to:

  • two Lutheran services
  • two Catholic services (one more of an open meditation/prayer evening with music)
  • morning and evening devotions here at the Collegium Oecumenicum
  • a joint Thanksgiving service (Germans celebrate this holiday on the first Sunday of October – this year, on the 7th) between the Collegium and the Heilpädagogisches Centrum Augustinum (HPCA) with whom we share space (similar to a L’Arche community)
  • one ecumenical semester opening service at the Collegium
  • two ecumenical services in the style of the Chicago Folk Service at the Collegium

These have been truly rich experiences because they have given me a chance to see different styles and forms of worship, something that is harder to do when one is serving at one place.  However, I have missed Holy Communion.

In Germany, Communion is not practiced as regularly as it is in Lutheran churches back home.  Here, it often seems to take place once a month or so, and when you’re used to receiving Communion once a week or more (between seminary, internship, home visits, etc.), you notice not having it.  And at Catholic services, I do not receive Communion since it goes against their teachings about receiving the sacrament.  The Communion services here at the Collegium, done in the Chicago Folk Service style, have been the only two times I have received that little bit of bread and that sip of wine that have become so important to me.

Even this morning, I was already looking forward to tonight’s service because I knew we would not only sing, pray, and hear God’s word, but that we would also celebrate the Eucharist.  And then, during the service, the most beautiful thing happened.  The Words of Institution had been said (“In the night in which he was betrayed…”) and we formed a half-circle in the tiny chapel.  Then, the pastor gave the bread to the organist and each person passed it on.  I was so excited because at Christ Lutheran Church in Washington, DC those who help lead worship stand in a circle and give each other bread and wine every Sunday.  It’s such a wonderful reminder to me of how we give and receive, of how we need each other, and how we are to live in the body of Christ with one another.

So the pastor gave the wafer to the organist and spoke, naturally, in German: “Nimm hin und iss. Christi Leib, für dich gegeben” (“Take and eat.  Body of Christ, given for you.”).  Well, to a non-native German speaker, to speak these foreign words to others could have been a daunting task.  I know sometimes people get nervous speaking these words in English because they’re such important words.  They are words of promise.  They are words of God’s action in our lives.  And no one wants to mess up speaking God’s promises or acts to another person!

But here’s where the beauty occurred.  The bread reached a man from Brazil and instead of speaking these words in German, he closed his eyes and spoke them in Portuguese.  He spoke these words in the language that was close to his heart and said them the best way he knew how – authentically in his mother tongue.  As we went around the circle, others spoke in English and it was interesting to hear all of the slight variations of these words.  But even with the variations, you could tell that the words people chose and used were the words that meant something to them.  The same happened with the chalice: “Nimm hin und trink. Christi Blut, für dich vergossen.” “Take and drink.  Blood of Christ, poured out/shed for you.”  It was wonderful to hear these words that mean so much to me in different languages and voices.  The variety brought such a richness to the experience and made me think about the feast to come.  It made me think about that feast, that colorful heavenly banquet, where people will be gathered from every corner of the world, from all different backgrounds and times, all speaking one language: praise.

When we finished with Communion, we sang a song that brought the whole experience together for me: “Strahle brechen viele [aus einem Licht]” (“Rays break many [out of one light]”).  The last verse seemed particularly apt:

Glieder sind es viele, doch nur ein Leib.
Wir sind Glieder Christi.
Glieder sind es viele, doch nur ein Leib
und wir sind eins durch ihn.  (Lyrics found here)

In English: “Members, there are many, but only one body.  We are members of Christ.  Members, there are many, but only one body, and we are one though him.”  And the cool, and really nerdy, thing is that in German, the word for body (Leib) and the word for a loaf of bread (Laib) sound exactly the same when spoken aloud.  Body and bread, together in one sound.  People joined together through bread in the body of Christ through the one language of praise.

© 2012. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

“Abendmahl” by/von Brunhild Klein-Hennig

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