A number of months ago, Margaret and I had the privilege of touring Italy, along with several of you and a number of other people. It was a wonderful experience, most of it. Most of it, but not all.
The part that was less than wonderful came early in the tour, when we had a few free hours in Florence. Margaret and I decided to set out on our own to find the Uffizi Palace and the Ponte Vecchio. Using our sketchy, off we trudged, in what seemed to be the right direction. The farther we walked, the more obvious it became that we had it wrong. What to do?
Reading signs was not much help. Yes, I took Latin in high school, and once Latin had been spoken on the streets of Florence. But that was hundreds of years ago. Not much help today. And asking for … well, the trouble is, you see, the Italians were so Italian. They gestured, they waved their hands, they spoke vigorously, but who could understand them? The problem is that the Italians were so Italian and we were so American that we did not make any connection. So we trudged. We hiked, in the heat of August; we peered at our map, we tried to figure out where we were. We were hot and tired and frustrated and felt kind of stupid … until.
Until, straight ahead of us, across a wide intersection was a beacon of light, a rest for the weary, a balm in Gilead. Can you guess what it was? Can you imagine what made us feel comfortable and hopeful and refreshed, just looking at it?
I’ll give you a hint. Golden arches. Big Mac. Coke and fries. McDonald’s! Who would have thought that we would travel half way around the world, to a land filled with exquisite cuisine, to a city known for its architectural gems, to find joy in a Coke and shelter under the golden arches!? But we did. We did. Why? Because we perceived that there, in that spot, around those tables, there was a little piece of home, somebody might understand us, we could get a touch of refreshment for the journey. Praise the Lord, even for Mickey D’s!
For all of us who walk alone need a place of connection. All of us who live in our own little worlds need a place of understanding. All of us who are trying to go somewhere need a place that measures our progress in the journey. We need a place where we are understood. That is what the Table of the Lord is all about. The Table of the Lord is a place of connection for those who walk in loneliness. It is a place of understanding for those who feel overwhelmed by the world. And it is an arena where authentic hope can be found. To have all of that is a blessing indeed. And to ignore all of that is a terrible judgment.
Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves.
I
The Table of the Lord is a place of connection and not of individuality. It is a place of community and not of isolation. The Table of the Lord is not just about your private walk with the Lord, all by your lonesome. It is about connecting, before God, with other believers. We call it “Communion” for a reason; “Communion” really means “fellowship”. It means not only a personal relationship with God; it means also connection with other believers. The Table of the Lord means that we are not alone, not here, not anywhere; we are in fellowship with the Lord and with one another.
The Bible tells us that when we come to the Table, we are to “discern the body”, and that, in fact, if we do not, we are eating and drinking judgment to ourselves! That’s pretty heavy duty stuff. It means that if we come to the Lord’s Table, just to have some little private séance with Christ, we are way off the mark.
You’ve heard about the old fellow whose prayer was very clear, but also very wrong – the fellow who prayed, “God bless me, my wife, my son John, and his wife; us four, and no more!” Suppose I come to this Table, and I don’t really care about what is happening with my brother or my sister. Suppose I come to this Table, wanting just to have a good time in the Lord. Suppose I have never really seen, never really heard, never truly understood who it is that is sitting on the pew with me. Do you know what? If I do that, I am not discerning the body, and I am in trouble. I am eating and drinking judgment on myself, because the Lord Jesus is very clear, “Forgive us our trespasses AS WE FORGIVE those who trespass against us.” “God has given us the ministry of reconciliation”. If I come to this Table and think I can receive reconciliation with God, but have no interest in reconciling with my brother whom I have wronged, or with my sister, who has wronged me, then I leave this Table judged. I leave unblessed, unforgiven, judged, if I do not discern the body.
Part of the background for Paul’s writing to the church at Corinth about the Lord’s Table is that, apparently, some folks came and just gorged themselves on the bread and the wine. They could care less about whether there was enough for everybody else. Why, if you read between the lines, you get the picture of some of these Corinthian Christians savoring the fruit of the vine, and since Mr. Welch had not come along with his pasteurizing method, it was pretty ripe, intoxicating. Some of these folks just got into this bread and this wine thing and shouted their “Hallelujahs” and had a wonderful time – all by themselves. Didn’t care two hoots about who was around them, whether they were hungry or cold or distressed or whatever. Oh, it’s so good to have a wonderful time in the Lord, all alone, Amen?
Not Amen! Not Amen! You do not have a good time by yourself. We are to discern the body. We are to be connected. That’s what it’s all about. Who is on the pew with you? Some are rich and some are poor. Some have advanced degrees and some never finished high school. Some have high-powered professional jobs, and some are unemployed or underemployed. And yes, some are black and some are white, some are American born and some are foreign-born, some are male and some are female, some are young and some are old. But we need each other. We are connected to one another. We are to value one another. We are to discern the body.
The Table of the Lord is a place of connection and not of individuality. It is a place of community and not of isolation. Discerning the body. We are part of one body, or else we eat and drink the judgment of loneliness on ourselves.
II
But more. The Table of the Lord is also a place of understanding for those who feel overwhelmed by the world. At the Table of the Lord, there is a place where your language can be heard, where your heart can be laid open, where your concerns can be expressed. At the Table of the Lord, in the presence of the Spirit and among brothers and sisters, if you discern the body, there is a place where heart meets heart and understanding is real.
You see, our trouble in Italy was that the Italians were so Italian and we Americans were so American. They were into being themselves, and had no interest in understanding us. We couldn’t cross the divide between our languages and our cultures.
But in Jesus Christ something happens that goes beyond the limitations of language and the corners of culture. We come to the Table of the Lord, just as we are, with our language, our cultural baggage, our history, our dreams, our hopes, our anxieties, the whole business. But we come, as Paul says, to know as we are already known. We come to understand and to be understood. We come to discern those who are in the body of Christ, and to understand them in their own cultures. And if we do not, we will eat and drink judgment on ourselves.
I expect that if you are at all comfortable in Takoma Park Baptist Church, you share the dream with which this very house began. The first sermon preached in this room, more than seventy-five years ago, was preached on the text, “My house shall be a house of prayer FOR ALL NATIONS.” And no, balcony, no matter what you think, I was not the preacher seventy-five years ago! But the dream of this church has always been that all nations, all people are to be welcomed here.
But this does not come about because we ignore differences. This will not happen, if we try to pretend that everybody is just alike and that there are no differences. There are differences. There are cultural values and ways of speaking and styles of being that are different. I didn’t say better, just different. I didn’t say wrong, just different. And if we are going to obey the Scriptures and discern the body, it means we must learn to appreciate one another’s differences. Discerning the body of Christ at the Lord’s Table means that we are to come here knowing that we do not fully enter into one another’s worlds, but because of Christ and His cross, we care enough to listen and to understand.
I had an interesting experience some months ago, right over here in the church parlor. A bridegroom and his attendants were there, waiting for the wedding to begin. When I came in the room, they were so busy laughing and teasing each other and bantering that they didn’t even notice me. I stood there for a moment and listened, and realized that I didn’t understand two-thirds of what was being said! It was in a lingo that didn’t quite connect. Sort of street talk; I guess you might call it “ebonics”. But then when I came over to the group and greeted them, their language shifted completely! They began to speak my kind of English! More or less white English. My wife’s family would say it’s still not the Queen’s English, but it was something I could understand. What happened? They instinctively knew that there was a cultural divide that they needed to bridge in order to include me. They saw that I was different, and they discerned that they needed to do something to bring me in. They understood me in my culture and brought me in.
Black History Month, around the Lord’s Table, gives us all an opportunity to be who we are, to remember where we have come from, to celebrate our own cultures – but at the same time, it teaches us to understand one another. If you can understand someone else’s history, you can understand your own. If you can stand with joy in who you are, around the Lord’s Table, you can make room for somebody else to be here too. And if we don’t do this – if we don’t look at this history – if we don’t discern the body, in all of its rich variety, we will eat and drink judgment on ourselves. We will eat and drink judgment because when you don’t understand, you hate. When you don’t know, you imagine. When you don’t hear the heartcries of your neighbor, pretty soon he is no longer your neighbor, and you are impoverished. We must discern the body, in all of its glorious variety.
You know, I’d love to see the day when this church would do Black History Month and more. We ought to do some things to learn about and affirm other cultures too. We ought to have an Africa day for our members from Nigeria and Cameroon and Liberia. We ought to have a Hispanic heritage day for those who come from Panama or Venezuela; we need a Caribbean Day for the Jamaicans, mon. And I’ll thrown in a Kentucky Day, right after the NCAA tournament is played!
Seriously – if we don’t celebrate our uniquenesses, if we do not discern the fullness of the body of Christ, we eat and drink judgment on ourselves, we impoverish ourselves.
Give me no white bread church, bland and mushy. Give me a robust multigrain church, where people are not afraid to be who they are, nor are they afraid to understand the heartcries of others. Give me a church where people are excited about what it means to be African or European or Hispanic or Asian; but also give me a church where, though we speak in different accents, the language of the Spirit draws us together and calls us to understand.
At the Table of the Lord, there is a place of understanding for those who feel overwhelmed by the world. At the Table of the Lord, there is a place where your language can be heard and your concerns can be expressed. At the Table of the Lord, in the presence of the Spirit and among brothers and sisters, if you discern the body, there is a place where heart meets heart and understanding is real.
III
But finally, the Table of the Lord is an arena where authentic hope can be found. The Table of the Lord is a place of genuine refreshment, where faith is renewed, where all of human history, in its infinite variety, gathers and is given power and meaning. The Table of the Lord reminds us that no matter how long and difficult the journey, at the end there is home. No matter how dry and dusty the road, at the end there is a table set before us. No matter how lonely, how hostile the path, at the end there is a Father with outstretched arms, waiting to greet us and make us welcome.
It’s good to study history. We discover the past and it helps us chart the future. It’s good to know the struggles through which we have gone. It explains our own struggles. It’s good to know about slavery and hardship, about hatred and prejudice. It’s good to know, then, about liberty and success, about love and friendship. And all of that gathers around this Table.
For what excitement springs up in me when I realize that the Table of the Lord promises something beyond the here and now. The Table of the Lord looks into the out there and the not yet. The new day that is coming. The new day, when all of God’s children, black and white, rich and poor, young and old, male and female, across all the dividing lines, will be invited to that banquet well spread! The day when all God’s children will have what they need. The day when the body will be fully united and ready to be what Christ wants. Oh yes, the Table of the Lord promises all that. It is a foretaste of glory divine. But it’s real. Here I discern the body, not just as it has been, and not just as it now is, but glory! I see the body as it is going to be, someday.
Oh, I know, separation and segregation are still around. They just feel different than they did in Jim Crow days. But they’re still around. If in the city of Los Angeles they can count some seventy different ethnic neighborhoods, where people of a given nationality live together, there is still separation. I understand why. It’s lonely out there, especially when you don’t have much hope for the future. I could show you two churches not far from here, both of the same denomination; but one church gets people from one Nigerian tribe, the Ibos, and the other church gets people from a different and sometimes hostile Nigerian tribe, the Yoruba. There is still separation. And I understand why. Old hostilities die hard. Old prejudices stick around.
But oh, when I come to the Table of the Lord, I don’t see just the back then and there. Nor do I see just the here and now. I see the out there and the not yet. I see what has not yet happened, but it will. I see all nations, gathered around the throne of God. I see the fingers of the dawn just about to pry open that great getting’ up morning. I see a promised land, where everybody is at home. I hear the sound of the grand “Amen, blessing and honor and glory and power by unto the Lamb, forever.” I hear the sound of Amen and Amen.
You know, I’m told that whenever the Hairston family would hold a reunion, their custom is to sing Jester’s glorious arrangement of “Amen.” They tell me that Jester would lead them slowly, quietly, through the first part, but he would build and build and build, until, at last, when they sing about the risen and victorious Christ, then they clap. Then they shout. Then they sing for joy. Amen, for the great family reunion.
Oh, I look forward to the reunion of my family, God’s family. When each in his own language, each dressed in her own garb, each from his own culture, but perfectly understood, discerning the body, will come home. Home. It isn’t the golden arches that call me. It is the golden streets. It is not the burgers and fries whose savory smells draw me; it is the aroma of fresh bread and the tang of fine wine, the bread and the cup of Communion. Nor is it the touch of Americana amid those oh-so-Italian Italians that comforts me; it is just discerning the body, right here at this Table. Whoever I am, whoever you are, together, we are just about at home. At home.
