Yesterday was World Communion Day, and Christians around the world gathered to break bread and share the cup, in celebration of our oneness in Jesus Christ. The observance began in a small Presbyterian church in Pennsylvania in l933. It was the worst year of the great depression; storms swept across the Midwest dustbowl; Hitler was rising to power; Japan and Germany withdrew from the League of Nations – all provoking fear and anxiety. Wanting to do something real and symbolic to witness to God’s faithfulness in such a time, World Wide Communion Day was planned, and has been celebrated the first Sunday in October ever since.
In many ways, we find ourselves facing such days once again. While the circumstances are not exactly the same and the players in the drama are different, the events of the days in which we are living all provoke fear and anxiety. There are times when we feel lost in the midst of life - separated from the “best of times” and left to wander in what feels like the “worst of times.”
It was important as we came to the table this World Communion Day that we gave voice to the pain and suffering in all of life, that we addressed the unspeakable events of our day. The truth is that God's "vineyard" is troubled. While Jesus is the "vine" and we are the "branches" , there's little evidence of the fruit of caring for the lost, the least and the last among us. We try to explain the terrible suffering in our world today in many ways - global climate change, poverty, fanaticism/greed, unbalanced wealth, fear and violence, inept political decisions, evil in human hearts, mental illness, and on and on in an unending circle of blame. Sometimes there just are no words to address the unspeakable events of life, but in order to be faithful, we struggled to find these words as we gathered to share the Lord’s Supper.
We came to the table, burdened with the cares and sorrows of this world, yet we came in hope, and together we continue to wait in hope, looking forward to gathering around that great banquet table in the Kingdom of God, when God will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and sorrow and death will be no more, and all will be made new.
As we came to the table with Christians around the world, we affirmed that we are there for and with each other, and none of us is alone. We must move closer to one another, making room for more of our brothers and sisters at the table - moving beyond the things that separate us from one another and from God, and closer to one another.
The memory of what God has done in the past and the hope of what God yet will do rescues us from hopelessness and helps us to find words for the unspeakable sufferings of our world today. God has made us family - a family that stretches around the world; a family that is called to love as we have been loved, and to forgive as we have been forgiven, to give to others what has been given to us. As we shared in our family meal, we gave thanks to God that we are not alone, that we have both each other and the Spirit of Christ with us, and the faithful love of God among us - a love that will never let us go.
Giving thanks for the blessing of World Communion Day and for the hope that is ours in Jesus Christ in the “best of times” and in the “worst of times.
Elizabeth
There are so many things written to encourage us these days. Last week I read this article by Nikki Collins, the coordinator for 1001 New Worshiping Communities, and want to share her thoughts with you.
God Makes All Things New – Even in a Pandemic
“The past few months have been this odd dance of ever-changing realities and downright monotony. We have completely shifted how we live. From shopping to Sunday school, nothing is the same. All the while, this new way of living has meant staring at the same walls, the same Zoom screen and the same people day after day. Waking up to wonder what crazy thing happened while I slept, while at the same time realizing that today’s schedule will essentially look like yesterday’s … How do you plan when you can’t predict? Where do you find the stuff to fashion a future when the contents of your current toolbox have little relevance for realities at hand.
In June, after months of sheltering in place, I drove to Montreat Conference Center in North Carolina. With no conferences scheduled and most folks still staying at home, Montreat was as quiet as I’ve ever seen it. Still, walking the paths, hiking the trails and dipping my feet in the cool stream took me to the formative years of my faith as a participant in many of the summer youth conferences. Along with the gurgle of the creek, I heard the refrain often sung at one of those conferences, a tune from the Iona Community, written by John Bell: ‘Behold! Behold! I make all things new, beginning with you and starting from today. Behold! Behold! I make all things new, my promise is true, for I am Christ the Way.’
Bell’s simple refrain points us to two texts in the New Testament. These texts find their way into our Presbyterian worship, showing up in the comforting words of the Assurance of Pardon and being spoken to grieving hearts in our Services of Witness to the Resurrection. In the pardon, when we have told the truth about who we are and how we’ve failed, we hear from Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:17: “Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation. The old life has gone, and a new life has already begun.” We can’t see it yet, but the promise is that something new has already been born. When we stand beside the grave of someone we love, we hear God’s words promising to be with us in a new way, wiping away tears, abolishing death and pain, saying, ‘See, I am making all things new … write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’ (Revelation 21:5)
When we are broken, tired and wondering how to begin again – or if we even want to – the Creator is urging us on, lifting our gaze, promising us more than we can imagine fashioned from this very moment, these very circumstances, our very lives. ‘Behold! Behold! I make all things new!’ … It’s funny how figuring out the way forward takes us back to ancient words – ancient words that are trustworthy and true. Ancient words that continue teaching us.”
As one who has been blessed again and again by time spent wandering the forest paths of Montreat and dipping my feet in the cool mountain streams, it’s good to be reminded of God’s promises heard in that special place. I’m grateful to folks who share from their life experiences in ways that help others find a way forward. I’m grateful to remember John Bell’s chorus – it’s the song of my heart today:
“Behold! Behold! I make all things new, beginning with you and starting from today. Behold! Behold! I make all things new, my promise is true, for I am Christ the Way.”
Elizabeth
With the coming of fall each year, I remember a special experience on my journey of life and faith; it’s time for the Presbyterian Pilgrimage (formerly Cursillo) Week-end. Pilgrimage is much like the “Walk to Emmaus,” but instead of having separate week-ends for men and women, Pilgrimage is a mix of women and men together. My Pilgrimage was in the fall of my first year as pastor of a small Presbyterian Church in south-central Virginia. This experience was a great blessing in my life that deepened my faith, and I was blessed to be a part of the leadership team for other retreats during my years in ministry in that special place. We met at Camp Hat Creek, in the Presbytery of the Peaks, and that spot became “holy ground” for many of us.
We talked a lot about grace – “the precious, unmerited favor of God” as the song goes. We spoke of life as a journey, with a current of grace carrying us through; and of looking for bits and pieces of grace in all the struggles and difficulties to be faced along the way. We shared our lives, we laid our burdens at the foot of the cross, we sang and prayed and laughed and cried, we broke bread and shared the cup, we renewed our baptismal vows, we received letters of appreciation and encouragement written by family and friends, we were loved by the leadership team and by our small groups; and through that love, we experienced deeper measures of God’s love. At the closing service, we were given a special cross with a rainbow cord (De Colores – the many colors of Gods’ love) to mark the moment. The words “Christ is counting on you,” were spoken; our reply was, “And I am counting on Christ.” Our journeys of life and faith are richer for such moments all along the way.
Yesterday’s passage from Matthew’s gospel told of the generous landowner, who hired workers for his vineyard early in the day, and agreed upon the daily wage to be paid. The story tells of the landowner’s repeated trips to the marketplace; his repeated call for workers to come to his vineyard. He won’t stop going back and forth into town; he won’t stop calling, inviting, seeking and offering- until everyone is at work. This is the story of God who refuses to leave us alone, refuses to leave things with just what is fair; God who comes out and pursues us, seeks us, and finds us – early or late. The grumbling begins when the last to work are paid first and the first to work are paid last – and all are paid the agreed upon daily wage!
The truth of the matter is that we’re all 11th hour workers; we’re all recipients of a blessing far beyond our own effort or deserving. When we truly allow ourselves to recognize and experience the generosity of God’s grace, we have some understanding of the giver of that grace, and we begin to grow in our understanding of sharing that grace with each other.
In her book Traveling Mercies, Ann Lamotte writes, “I do not understand at all the mystery of grace, only that God meets us where we are, but doesn’t leave us there.” Thanks be to God for that good news!
Elizabeth