Table.
On a beautiful evening in July 2018, a group of young people gathered on the beach near the Dutch city of The Hague. They shared bread and wine, humus and salads – which tasted even better in the sea breeze. Somebody brought a guitar, another told the Biblical story of the Exodus from Egypt. Sitting on the sand dunes, the participants talked about the meaning of the story in their own lives. Meals like this (deemed ‘Tables of Hope’) have been taking place since 2015.
pentecost, week 4.
The picture above was yesterday’s lunch at my daughter Abigail’s home in Maastricht before seven us sat down to savor both food and fellowship: Abbie and Albert, Ashley and Jeromy, Kellie and me, and our grandson Briar. Isn’t the table a wonderful place? Doesn’t it just represent the very Kingdom of God that Jesus introduced?
As we wait for Pentecost to arrive, I have to imagine what it was like for those 120 expectant women and men in the upper room. All we have from Luke is that they were “constantly in prayer.” But there must have been more. Conversations that began with, “Did you see Jesus’ face when he was overturning tables?” Or, “What do you think this Holy Spirit event is going to be like?” They must have been coming out of their skin with anticipation! But what we know they were also doing is… eating. They were having these conversations sitting around a table, breaking bread and drinking wine. The table is always the place of most intimate fellowship and communion.
Just think for a moment of the number of gospel stories that happened around the table…
Jesus’ first miracle.
The anointing of Jesus’ head and feet in Bethany.
I imagine the Canaanite woman enlarging Jesus’ perspective in Matthew 15 around a table (“Even the dogs eat the crumbs…”)
Jesus teaching us to pray for “daily bread.”
Jesus miraculously feeding the 4000 and the 5000 on the hillsides.
Parables and metaphors set within themes of eating and drinking (at least a dozen or more).
Obviously, the Last Supper.
The revelation of Christ to the Emmaus disciples.
Jesus eating with his disciples several times post-resurrection.
The early church “broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people.”
But there’s another story about the table that doesn’t get much attention. In fact, it is the most obvious foreshadowing of the communion meal that we have… but I have never heard it used to introduce the Eucharist. It comes in John 6 where Jesus calls himself the “bread of life” (the only reference is this one chapter). The crowd does not appreciate Jesus’ self-referencing metaphor, but Jesus just presses in harder. It’s almost like he wants to offend them.
“Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” It’s a very uncomfortable moment, I think even for us as readers. A large number of his disciples can’t metabolize that abrasive language and drift away, and I’m not sure we know what to do with it either. But Jesus is after something important here, and I think it’s only right that we ask ourselves, “Am I eating Jesus’ body and drinking his blood?” And what does this even mean? It means something—it was a hill Jesus was prepared to die on, so to speak.
In context Jesus is annoyed that the crowd is following him primary because he made them dinner. In contrast, he wants them to realize that he is giving them his very Self and that the divine potential of this relationship is that we experience union with God the way that Jesus does. I can think of no other illustration as potent for something to become part of our very being as much as food and drink; when we ingest it, it literally becomes woven into our cellular structure. And this is what Jesus invites us into; in truth, he says, You cannot wake up to your true identity, your true life, without this kind of transformative union. Without his kind of divine transfusion!
So I leave you with this awkward question as well: Are you eating Jesus’ body and drinking his blood? I don’t mean in the communion ritual but is a more profound way. Well, are you?
growing your soul
When or where have you tasted this kind of union with God?
serving our world
When or where have you offered this kind of union to others? What metaphor would you use today?
takeaway
Ingest God.