Several years ago my wife and I went with a group on a tour of Italy. It was a wonderful experience, most of it. Most of it, but not all. The part that was less than wonderful came 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 map, off we went in what seemed to be the right direction. The farther we walked, however, the more obvious it became that we had it wrong. What to do? We needed help.
We tried reading road signs. Well, now, I took Latin in high school. And it is true that Latin had at one time, hundreds of years ago, been spoken on the streets of Florence. But ancient Latin was not much help today. So maybe we should ask somebody on the street? 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 Italians were so Italian and we were so American – or, in her case, Anglo-American -- that we could not make any connection. So we tramped along, we hiked bravely, in the heat of August; we tried to figure out where we were. We were hot and tired and frustrated and felt kind of stupid … until straight ahead of us, across a wide intersection, here appeared a beacon of light, a haven of hope. Our weary eyes beheld a balm in Gilead. Can you guess what that was? Can you imagine what made us feel comfortable and hopeful and refreshed, just to look at it?
Golden arches. Big Mac. Coke and fries. We traveled halfway around the world, to a land filled with exquisite cuisine, to a city known for its architectural gems, to find joy in fizzy drinks under the golden arches of McDonald’s! Why? Because we perceived that there, in that spot, around those tables, there was a little piece of home, and somebody might understand us, and we could get a touch of refreshment for the journey. Praise the Lord, even for Mickey D’s!
For all of us need a place that is home; all of us need to be understood; and all of us need refreshment for the journey. To discern where all that comes from is a blessing indeed. But to ignore all that brings a terrible judgment. So Paul says of the Lord’s Supper:
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.
What might this mean?
I
First, consider that the Table of the Lord is a place of connection and community and not of isolation. The Table of the Lord is not just about your private walk with God, all by your lonesome. It is about connecting, before God, with other believers. We call it “Communion” for a reason; the word translated “Communion” essentially 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; if we are in fellowship with the Lord, we are in fellowship with one another at the same time.
So the Bible says 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! 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 and do damage to our own spirits. We are here to connect with the community of faith.
Have you heard about the old fellow whose prayer was very clear, but also very wrong? This fellow 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, wanting just to have a good time in the Lord. I have never really seen, nor ever truly understood who it is that is sitting on the pew with me. If I do that, I am not discerning the body, and I am in trouble. I am eating and drinking judgment on myself. If I come to this Table and think I can achieve reconciliation with God, but have no interest in reconciling with my brother whom I have wronged, or with my sister, who has wronged me, or even in interacting with those who simply share this place, then I leave this Table judged. I leave unblessed and unforgiven if I do not discern my need for others and their need for me.
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. If you read between the lines, you even 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 methods, it was pretty ripe stuff. They got drunk at church! Well, you and I might not do that, but when worship becomes just having a pumped-up time, grooving on Jesus, but we don’t care two hoots about who is around or whether they are hungry or cold or distressed -- then we have missed the point of worship. We have failed to discern the body and we have taken judgment onto ourselves.
Who is on the pew with you? Do we know beyond the surface smiles we give each other on Sunday morning? 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 in this church, in this expression of the Body of Christ, we all need each other. We must connect to one another. We are to discern the body.
The Table of the Lord is a place of connection and community and not of isolation. Discern the body, or else eat and drink the judgment of loneliness.
II
But more. The Table of the Lord is not only a place of community. 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 heart language can be heard, a site where your cares can be laid open, a safe room 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, here is a place where heart meets heart and understanding becomes 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 I submit to you that 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 languages, our cultural baggage, our history, our dreams, our hopes, our anxieties, the whole business. But we come to understand and to be understood. We come to discern and to understand others in their own cultures. And if we do not, we will eat and drink judgment on ourselves.
I would suspect that some folks are wondering why in this church we would focus on Black History Month. Most of us probably think we do not need to pay attention to any particular history or any special group, because we are all one in Christ, we are all the same under the skin.
But I would respond that we are not all the same. Biologically, yes, of course. But culturally, emotionally, there are many differences, and we must not pretend that there are not. There are differences. There are cultural values and ways of speaking and styles of being that are different. Now notice that I didn’t say better – I said different. I didn’t say wrong, I said different. If we are going to obey the Scriptures and discern the body, that means we must learn to appreciate one another’s differences. Discerning the body of Christ at the Lord’s Table means that we come here knowing that we do not fully enter into one another’s worlds, but because of Christ, we care enough to listen and to understand.
At the church where I was pastor, one afternoon I was preparing to perform a wedding. The groom and his attendants were in the church parlor waiting. 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 even call it “ebonics”. But 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, 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 heard me in my culture and included me.
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, and most important, it draws us to understand one another. 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 understand, you make up myths. When you don’t understand, you do not hear the heart cries of your neighbor, and pretty soon he is no longer your neighbor. Then both you and he are impoverished. That’s judgment.
We must discern the body of Christ, in all of its glorious variety. When my wife and I went looking for a new church home some months ago, and found this one, if was important to us that we share in a church where not everyone looked alike. There’s no challenge in that! 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 heart cries of others. Give me a church where people are excited about what it means to be African or European or Hispanic or Asian or African-American; 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, 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 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, no matter 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. It’s good to discover the past. It’s good to know the struggles through which others have gone. It explains our own struggles. It’s good to know about slavery and hardship, about hatred and prejudice. It’s good also to know about liberty and success, about love and friendship. All of these things gather around this Table.
But, praise God, the Table of the Lord promises something beyond history and beyond struggle. 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 the banquet of heaven! 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. Here at this Table I discern the body, not just as it has been, and not just as it now is, but glory to God! I see the body as it is going to be, someday.
They tell me we are still living in a segregated world. In the city of Los Angeles they can count some seventy different ethnic neighborhoods, separation. In the school cafeterias you can see tables of white students, tables of black students, tables of Asians and Hispanics and on and on. I understand why. It’s lonely out there, especially when you are insecure and don’t have much hope for the future. I could even 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 Nigerian tribe, the Yoruba, who are traditionally hostile to the Ibo. Old hostilities die hard. Old prejudices stick around.
But oh, when I come to the Table of the Lord, I see so much more. I see all nations, gathered around the throne of God. 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 be unto the Lamb, forever.” I hear a new day dawning. I see the fingers of the dawn just about to pry open that great getting’ up morning.
On that day 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.
Oh, 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 bread and the tang of 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 seeing and knowing that the arms of Christ embrace us. It is seeing and knowing that the nail-pierced hands reach out for me and for you, for red and yellow, black and white. All are precious in His sight.
Discern the Body of Christ, and know that in Him beyond Jew or Greek, beyond male or female, beyond black or white or Asian or Hispanic, beyond all these things, there is His outreached and welcoming hand. Oh, “precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand.”
