Let me make one thing clear about communion. It’s not just a symbol—it’s the real deal, the body and blood of Jesus. How do we know? Well, Jesus himself said so in Matthew 26. And St. Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, backed him up, in what we now use liturgically as the verba, a.k.a the “Words of Institution.” Now, we don’t claim to understand how ordinary bread and wine become the body and blood of Jesus. That’s God’s issue to sort out—way above our pay grade. Just like we don’t try to grasp how God raised Jesus from the dead. We believe because Jesus said it, and his word is ironclad. And let me tell you, we’ve experienced it firsthand, we who participate in holy communion. So then, as we delve deeper into today’s sermon, I urge you to consider this truth. Like Mary Magdalene on that first Easter morning, we, who’ve held Jesus body in our hand and splashed his blood across our lips, we can confidently declare, “We have seen the Lord!” Let’s keep that in mind as we journey together.
Let us pray. May only God’s Word be spoken and only God’s Word be heard; in the name of Jesus. Amen.
At my house growing up, Grandma Rager always had some sort of food ready for people whenever they might show up for a visit. Our kitchen wasn’t just a room. It was a sanctuary of hospitality, a place where everyone left their hair down over shared food and drink. And let me tell you, inviting folks over for dinner? It was like hosting our own little food carnival. Grandma, she was renowned. She was known by some as the best cook in Snyder County. Take that with a grain of salt (do you like the gustatory pun?), but it is a testament to her kitchen prowess. And I’m not bragging per se, but she is the one who taught yours truly how to cook. So I feel like I learned from the crème de le crème, the maître d’, the emcee of culinary cabaret. She had a knack for turning our kitchen into a scrumdiliocious wonderland. Inviting guests for dinner wasn’t just a gesture. It was an affirmation of affection and belonging. And it wasn’t just a customary affair. It was an embodiment of the values we held dear—generosity, togetherness, and empathy. From pies to cakes to cookies, our kitchen was a sanctuary of warmth and welcome, where everyone and anyone found solace and sustenance.
In today’s gospel, we have a similar situation involving food. What is God revealing to us today in this passage?
What we have is this: we witness a profound moment of fellowship and communion as Jesus appears to his disciples after his resurrection, the night-of, in fact, according to Luke’s gospel. The element of eating together is central to this scene, and highlights hospitality, welcome, mutual affection, and care.
Let’s explore.
At first, the disciples are startled and terrified when Jesus shows up. They mistake him for a ghost. Nevertheless, Jesus immediately seeks to calm their fears and establish a sense of peace among them. He invites them to touch him, emphasizing his physical presence and reality. Then, in a beautiful display of intimacy and connection, Jesus asks for something to eat. He eats a piece of broiled fish in their presence. He demonstrates, reinforces, drives home his true humanity, and solidifies his solidarity with his disciples in their fear and joy.
Everything going on here goes way beyond mere sustenance, mere food, mere fish. (I hope though it was salmon.) No—everything going on here brings unity, fellowship, and togetherness to the forefront. In the ancient Near East, sharing a meal was a sign of acceptance, friendship, and hospitality. By eating with his disciples, Jesus reaffirms his love for them and strengthens their bond as a community, and more importantly strengthens their bond with him. Of course, you recall that the last thing that Jesus did with his disciples before his passion and execution was sharing a meal and the first thing he does after he’s resurrected with the disciples is…sharing a meal. Coincidental? Not so much…
In today’s world, in our own lives, we continue to share meals as a means of fostering connection and building community. Whether gathering around the family dinner table, sharing a meal with friends at a restaurant, or participating in potluck dinners in Lindberg Hall, eating and drinking together remains a powerful expression of hospitality and fellowship. In these shared moments, barriers are broken down, relationships are deepened, and bonds are strengthened. We affirm our shared values of generosity, community, and empathy over food and drink.
Sharing food and drink together is a universal experience that transcends cultural and religious boundaries. It’s a time-honored tradition that brings people together, fosters conversation and laughter, and creates lasting memories. In a fast-paced and increasingly digital world, the simple act of breaking bread together reminds us of our shared humanity and the importance of building relationships with one another. In fact, in our world today, so rife with division and polarization, with busyness and chaos, the simple act of breaking bread together is a countercultural act of defiance, you might even say rebellion. It’s out of step with what is fed to us as what will satiate us, what will make us happy, what will fulfill us. It’s not about me individually, but about us collectively. In a world exponentially increasing every day in the message of “me, me, me,” eating together and drinking together, intentionally, as a countercultural act of defiance that says, “we, we, we.”
Just as Jesus shared a meal with his disciples, inviting them into communion with him, so too does sharing a food and drink today create opportunities for connection and communion. Whether sharing a casual meal with loved ones or participating in the sacrament of holy communion, eating and drinking together reminds us of our interconnectedness and the importance of hospitality, welcome, and mutual affection in building and maintaining relationships.
Did you catch that? Whether a casual meal or participating in holy communion…eating and drinking together reminds us of our interconnectedness and the importance of hospitality, welcome, and mutual affection in building and maintaining relationships…
When we participate in holy communion, we tap into something bigger than ourselves. We experience God’s love firsthand, right there in our hands and on our tongues. It’s a moment where we join with God and God joins with us. What’s more, God tells us we are united with all who share Jesus’ body and blood in holy communion. We’re connected not only to each other in the present but to everyone who has ever professed “Jesus is Lord” throughout history.
Imagine that?! It excites me, folks! What a tremendous, tremendous gift!
Communion is a signpost pointing to God’s unending love for us. It’s a testament to the fact that nothing, and I mean nothing, can stand in the way of God’s love for us. And let me tell you, when we partake in communion, we don’t not just receive, but we’re also challenged to embody Jesus’ same love in our own lives—love that transcends boundaries, especially our own contrived and convoluted human boundaries. “For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ,” that is, the interconnectedness of all believers across time and place, Paul tells the Corinthians and us, those eat or drink without recognizing that, “eat and drink judgment on themselves.”
So, when we gather around the communion table, around this altar that represents Christ’s own sacred presence himself among us, we don’t just share bread and wine. We experience God’s real presence among us, in, with, and through the body and blood of Jesus. It’s a powerful reminder of God’s own commitment to generosity, togetherness, and empathy, and it’s a call for us to live out that same commitment in our own lives, yesterday, today, and yes, even to eternity and beyond.
And so I invite you, I challenge you—come to the table of mercy. Receive unending forgiveness and boundless compassion at the table. Come to the table of grace. Experience transformative renewal and profound empathy at this gracious altar. Find divine and human connection and receive and give acceptance. Here the risen Jesus gives us the food and drink that our lives with lived with him and one another yearn for. Come and be nourished. Come to the table of love.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Rev'd Daniel W. Spigelmyer, Jr. 