Every table an altar
Can we make communion the work of the whole church?
A long time ago, I was sitting in a workshop at a denominational gathering, talking to a partner in some kind of official workshop activity of a conversation. And that partner said to me, “You know, I really wish that we could make every meal into a kind of mini-communion, but you would need a minister at every table in order to do that.”
And I responded with two things:
First, everyone who has been baptized is a minister by virtue of that baptism. People who are ordained are merely set apart to make sure that ministry happens. We are not responsible for doing all of the work of ministry; nor are any aspects of ministry reserved for us alone.
Second, there is no rule in the United Church of Christ that says that only ordained people can preside over communion.
That second point led my conversation partner to call the workshop leader over and ask if it was true. Could she—my conversation partner, a layperson—really preside over communion? And the workshop leader confirmed that it was true. There is no rule against a layperson saying the words, breaking the bread, pouring the wine, and doing the thing.
There are some details of course. So let’s talk about what it really means for the communion table to be open.
Like a lot of congregations, the congregation that I serve has a long tradition of pastoral care, by which they have meant the kind of care that only the pastor can do. Pastoral care has included some things that the pastor really might be the best person for: baptismal conversations and baptisms, end-of-life conversations and funerals, and so on. But it has also included things that anyone can do and that the pastor might not be the best person for: rounds at nursing homes, visits to homebound members, and so on.
I have been pushing hard to make pastoral care more narrow and make community care much broader. I have been pushing hard to make visits to old friends who cannot—or who do not—come to worship anymore into the work of the whole congregation. And, overall, the congregation has been pretty receptive to that.
And, recently, a few different people have asked about delivering communion.
Now, I could get deep into the theological weeds here, but I’m not going to. I’m going to skip all of the background on different traditions and all of the debates about the real presence of Christ in the elements. I’m going to act like the only question before the congregation was whether only ordained people can preside over communion or laypeople can also do so.
If the answer was that only ordained people can preside over communion, then we would have to reserve some of the elements from worship and send people to distribute those before they spoiled. If the answer was that laypeople can also preside over communion, then people could take bread and wine (or juice) to other people’s homes and have their own communions.
We landed on the second option. Any member of the congregation who takes a class on how to preside over communion from the pastor can preside over communion. Of course, if someone wants to receive communion from the pastor, they will. But now, the people of the congregation can be ministers to each other all the more.
There are two things that I often say when I introduce communion in worship.
First, that our altar is one corner of a big table. In our celebration of this sacrament, we gather with other Christians around the world and across time in a humble feast that is ultimately hosted by our lord and savior, Jesus Christ.
Second, that no one has to be a member of the congregation that I serve, or of the United Church of Christ more broadly, in order to join us in this meal. Our table is open to everyone in the hopes that, one day, everyone will find a seat at the big table.
And something that I don’t usually say, but that I firmly believe—that is a hill that I will die on—is that the mystery and miracle of communion is not found (only) in the bread and the wine, but in the whole act of being at the table. It is found in the ways that this humble feast unites us with each other and with Christ.
And that is a mystery and a miracle that is performed by Christ alone.
So it must be the case that a table in someone’s home, or at a corner cafe, or in the park can also be a corner of that big table. And it must be the case that those tables—and thousands of others besides—can hold the mystery and miracle that Christ provides.
It must be the case that every table is open to Christ’s presence. It might even be the case that Christ is sitting at every table, waiting patiently for the rest of to acknowledge him and to remember him, to break the bread and pour the wine, to say the words and do the thing.
It might even be the case that, just as everyone who is baptized is baptized into ministry, every table can be made into an altar, every loving conversation can provide some spiritual care, and every relationship can reflect all of the ways that we are the body of Christ, together.