Sunday, May 1st, as is our tradition, SouthWest United celebrated the sacrament of Holy Communion. There is something about the sacrament of communion which can trigger our memory and help us see things as they really are. Something about the sacrament of communion opens our eyes to Jesus at table; be it feeding the 5,000 at the lakeshore, turning water into wine at a wedding celebration, or eating with his friends Mary, Martha, Lazarus. Even at the last Passover, the night before his death, Jesus was all about feeding body and soul.
The sacraments help us to see, to point us not only to the bread and the wine, but to open us to all the ways in which we are fed; apple orchards, vegetable gardens, food banks, post-funeral refreshments, church harvest suppers. All these things say “pay attention this stuff matters, these things are all holy.” When we are able to see beyond, we are able to enter one another’s joy, one another’s family, one another’s messes, one another’s suppers.
Indeed, the word sacrament is derived from a Latin phrase which means “to make holy.” When hit with the glint of love’s light, even ordinary things become holy. And when received with open hands in the spirit of eucharisteo, the signs and wonders of Jesus never cease.
At its best, the church administers the sacraments by feeding, healing, forgiving, comforting, and welcoming home the people God loves. At its worst, the church withholds the sacraments in an attempt to lock God in a theology, a list of rules, a doctrinal statement, a building.
I believe our God is in the business of transforming ordinary things into holy things, scraps of food into feasts and empty purification vessels into fountains of fine wine and, lately, I am seeing more and more the importance of “table”. That place where we have all sat too many times to count.
Friends know that I keep a “blue box of treasures” where I frequently dumpster dive for inspiration. In fact, it is not unusual for fellow-ministers to call me to see if I have something they can use.
So, thinking about table and food, I found the undernoted thoughts from Indigenous writer Joy Harjo which I would like to share with you this week:
Perhaps the World Ends Here
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation,
and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their
knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men
at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with
us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at
the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A
place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give
thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of
the last sweet bite.
This week I would like to say “honor the table, be it at home, in the community or at Church for indeed it is a holy place. Invite family, friends, strangers and share in the mystery of love and sharing.
In peace,
Pastor Beryl