The Bread, The Cup, and Fresh Pluke.

I have to tell you something to you. Before last Sunday morning I hadn’t taken communion for a long time. I am hesitant to put an exact time on it, but it’s been awhile.

Reason being, there’s this little phrase in 1 Cor. that stops me. “Unworthy manner.” I grew up in a tradition where communion was taken seriously. I grew up in a tradition that put a lot of emphasis on all the unworthy manners.

And to be honest, I haven’t felt very worthy for a while. I’d given into the fear that the consequences of taking communion improperly were worse than the possible blessings of taking it properly.

For the longest time my love for Jesus has been the artificial love that someone has to feel for the family of the person that donated a life-saving organ.

But slowly, slowly my understanding of Jesus has been changing.        

There is this joke. The joke must always be told in the car, and it can only be told on car rides that are over 2 hours. The reason for this is because the joke takes nearly 30 minutes to tell. The joke-teller leads their listeners on a glorious goose-chase of many highs and lows, and when it is all said and done the punchline is this, “Pluke!”

The reactions of the listeners vary between eye-rolls, anger expressed through punched shoulders, and maybe, just maybe, one of the listeners enjoyed the joke. They wouldn’t have enjoyed it for its ending, but they would have enjoyed it for the intricacies of the storytelling. I love that joke.

I can imagine walking through a field with Jesus and the boys. They grab a couple heads of wheat for a snack as I’m telling the joke, and everyone is along for the ride. I deliver the punchline and several disciples throw wheat at me. John punches me in the shoulder. Peter lashes me with his tongue. And Jesus? Jesus is just grinning. He enjoyed it from beginning to end. Maybe he liked it because he liked stirring the pot as well. Or maybe he liked it so much because he knew how much I enjoyed telling it. Either way, he’s grinning and laughing as we all recover from the joke.

That’s where my understanding of Jesus is taking me these days. Laughing with him, and him approving of who I am.

Now I’m sitting in the pew last Sunday morning, and the announcement is made that we are taking communion later in the service. And, like the last couple of years, I dismiss it. I wasn’t prepared, and to get prepared I would need hours.

But then I imagine Jesus asking me why I’m planning on abstaining.

“I don’t want to be guilty of sinning against your body and blood.”
“What does that mean, anyway?”
“I’m not sure. But the Apostle Paul said it, so I believe it.”

He turns away from me and looks towards the front of the auditorium. I’m watching him, waiting for his response.

He turns back to me, and nods. “Yes, this is a serious thing that you are going to be doing. That is true.” He pauses and rubs at his side. “But do you not want to live in community with me?”

“I do. I do want that.”

Jesus smiles at me, and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do this in remembrance of me.”

So, I took communion. Not because I am worthy, but because I want community with Jesus.