Use the Table Responsively
But First, Communion 2/3 | 1 Corinthians 11:17–26
February 24, 2019
Commonwealth Bridge Worship
Today’s scripture reading comes from 1 Corinthians, which is Paul’s letter written to the Corinthian Church. The Apostle Paul was a missionary who founded several churches in the first century, and the Corinthian Church was one of them. While Paul was elsewhere, he received some reports that there were conflicts and division amongst the Corinthian Church. So, Paul decided to write a letter, and what we are about to read today comes from his first letter to that church.
When we hear the term “the Lord’s supper,” we immediately think about Holy Communion, a ritual celebrated within a church building involving the bread and cup. But for the 1st century Christians, there were no separate buildings for Christian worship. So, what happened was that people met at someone’s private home and had actual meals together; and the sharing of the bread and cup happened as a part of their communal meals.
How many of us have hosted a dinner where more people showed up than the numbers of seats at your dining table? What often happens in this situation is that you have to create a secondary seating space, a space that is often less formal than the dining table you’ve prepared, and, unfortunately, you have to separate the guests. This maneuvering also happened for the Corinthians, often with extreme partiality. Whenever they hosted this church communal meal, they often would have to split up the guests, higher-status friends at the main table, while lower-status members of the church were placed elsewhere in the larger area outside the dining room.[1]
What was common in this kind of separation during the church communal meal was that the VIPs of the room were given special treatment — they were served with better food and wine than the other guests. And Paul writes in today’s scripture to this very problem.
As you can see, Paul was pretty upset about how the Corinthians treated the church communal meal. As we read from Zacchaeus’s story last week, the purpose of the table fellowship is communion: the sharing of our time, our presence, our stories, our thoughts, our food, and ourselves.
Typically, the table fellowship — the act of sitting together — requires recognition of some shared identity. We see something common in each other, therefore we sit together at one table. Thus, families sit together. Thus, friends sit together. Thus, people with the same interests sit together.
What the gospel challenges us is that we don’t need to find commonalities to sit together with someone. Rather, we sit together at the table first, in order to see something common in each other. Even further, we already share this one true identity with everyone out there, regardless of who they are. This is what we read from Zacchaeus’s story last Sunday: you too are a beloved child of God.
Now, this table fellowship became a central feature of the early church — perhaps following the very example of Jesus’ ministry. People came together and ate together; the shared meal formed the basis of their communal life united in Jesus Christ.
For the early church, the table became the great equalizer. But this does not mean that the church always used the table as such. People continued to go back to their old habits and used the table as a vicious divider. We see this throughout history where the table is used as a weapon to bully others. Religious people not sharing the table with sinners like Zacchaeus. Jews not sharing the table with the Gentiles. The rich not sharing the table with the poor. Men not sharing the table with women. White Americans not sharing the table with African Americans. Church members not sharing the table with visitors. Cool kids not sharing the table with the bullied.
This kind of separation at the table is seen repeatedly throughout human history — practiced either through federal laws, religious codes, social norms, or unspoken rules. And, at times, I feel like this kind of practice is inevitable because the truth is that there are limited numbers of seats at the table. Not everyone can sit at one table.
I saw this happening in my life as well. When I was a student, I often volunteered to serve at a soup kitchen. Whenever I volunteered, the table was usually filled with those who came to receive food. And what happened naturally was that the volunteers sat together at our own table, usually hidden from the crowd, and had meals together of our own. Through those meals, I built great relationships with my fellow volunteers, yet my relationships with the poor and hungry stayed nonexistent and remained solely transactional; which further reinforced the division between us and them. Without realizing it, we were separating ourselves from the others and made the same offense that the Corinthians made in today’s reading.
Paul addressed this very problem by reminding the Corinthians of the events highlighting the night before Jesus’ death. On that night, Jesus gathered with his disciples at a table as usual. He took a loaf of bread, gave thanks, and broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” He did the same with the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” And then, Paul concluded the story, saying “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”
What Paul is addressing here is that the sharing of the meal calls the church to think of Jesus’ death. What we, the church, believe is that Jesus loved us and gave himself up for us — he died for our sins — so that we may be reconciled with God. We weren’t supposed to have this divine-human relationship, because we humans turned away and our love failed. But what this meal essentially represents is the restoration of the relationship between God and us, which was possible only through Jesus’ self-sacrificial love. This bread we break represents the crucified body of Jesus given for us. And this cup we share represents the outpoured blood of Jesus that established the new covenant — that is, the reconciled relationship we have with God.
In short, the Lord’s table represents Jesus’ self-sacrificial love for us — and not simply for us as individuals, but for us, the world. And to be reconciled with God is to share the gift of reconciliation with one another. To love God means also to love our neighbors. To be invited to the table means also to share this invitation with the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the clothless, the imprisoned…those on the margins of our society (cf. Matthew 25).
The gospel we proclaim is both personal and public. We remember Jesus’ self-giving love for us, so that we may give ourselves for others.
What the Corinthians did in their church gatherings were acts of self-service: the privileged feasted on their own fancy meal and got drunk on their fancy wine, while those who had nothing went hungry. And Paul called them to remember why and how they were gathered as a church in the first place.
The problem within the Corinthian church doesn’t sound so foreign to us. While the church’s unity seems to be everyone’s idealistic preference and desire, the divisions within church seem to be our unavoidable human reality.
In fact, throughout this week and the next, you will see a lot of news regarding a denomination called The United Methodist Church. That is the denomination that I am part of, the denomination that this church, Commonwealth, begins its journey on.
This week, at this very moment, selected delegates from around the world are gathered in St. Louis to solely discuss human sexuality — one matter that they have been tossing around for the past 40 years.
The denomination currently acknowledges the practice of homosexuality incompatible with Christian teaching. And the whole discussion is on whether to move forward with this language or not — which would guide our directions regarding the practices of same-sex marriage and ordination of LGBTQ+ persons. The hope is that those gathered in St. Louis would make a decision on this matter this week. As you could imagine, it’s an anxious time for many people. Some people fear for the schism of the denomination. Some people fear the status quo, and some fear the change. Some people fear for themselves and their beloved ones. Some people fear for their beloved church. Maybe some of us can relate; maybe some of us have some of these same fears.
In a way, we are starting a church in the strangest time possible — not just for this denomination, but for our world in general. There are lots of unknowns, uncertainties, confusions, and divisions out there and amongst us.
One thing I know in the midst of this strange time is that I am called to lead this church called Commonwealth; first committing myself to God and to those who are here today, first committing myself to walking this journey together with you. And I believe we have this amazing opportunity to start our journey as we reflect on why and how we are gathered as a new church called Commonwealth in the first place.
As Paul noted, when we are gathered, we are to think of Jesus’ death, more precisely his self-sacrificial love for the world. Jesus freely gave himself up for us so that we may have a seat at the table. Yes, we now have the benefits of sitting at his table to enjoy the meal. But if all we do is to remain at the table and enjoy the meal — then our practice is no different from the acts of self-indulgence and self-preservation. That’s when the table becomes the vicious divider — provoking divisions and further deepening the gap between those who are at the table and those who are not.
The remembrance of Jesus’ death challenges us to freely share our seats at the table for those without seats. We sit together at the table first, in order to see something common in each other, in order to hear each other’s stories, and in order to understand the needs of each other. The remembrance of Jesus’ death also challenges us to freely give up our seats at the table for those without seats. We too are to “live sacrificially, not pursuing our own interests and pleasures but giving ourselves for others in remembrance of the one who gave himself for us.”[2]
As a new church, we have this amazing opportunity to use the table responsibly — not as a weapon, but as a sign of grace and love. This is why I challenge you to be part of a small group, if you are not part of one already. We call this ministry “Common Meal” (and now you know where it comes from). This is our practical way of sharing our seats with others.
I had a wonderful night last Thursday with this group at George Mason, where I received nourishment for my tired and weary soul; sharing, laughing, reflecting, and praying. And this is what I truly want all of us to experience — a space where we find commonalities in our diverse selves, a space where we give and receive nourishment for our body and soul, and a space where we invite those who need such nourishment in their busy lives.
If you’re convicted to be part of a small group, but not already part of one, I challenge you to find others who share that conviction and desire and to start one. If you need help starting one, if you don’t know where to begin, that’s okay — let me know, or better yet, talk to one another and work together to get it started.
And lastly, as a new church with an amazing opportunity to use the table responsibly, this is why we are having Holy Communion on Sundays as often as we can — to remind us of why and how we are gathered here in the first place. As we prepare ourselves to partake in Holy Communion, I pray that we would acknowledge each other as members of one community, one body of Christ; and I also pray that we may become a true community that proclaims what Jesus’ death truly represents: his self-denying, self-giving and self-sacrificing love for others. Amen.
[1–2] Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians: Interpretation, 196.
