Communion in lockdown

For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: the Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

On two Sundays recently my wife and I have done something we have never done before, not in 40 years of marriage.

No, we haven’t taken up bungee-jumping or lion-taming (far too boring), nor even done an in-depth verse-by-verse study of Leviticus. No: something very much simpler; we have shared communion together in our own home, just the two of us.

It has seemed a little strange – sitting face-to-face at our dining room table with a glass of wine and a slice of bread between us. But it has been good; we have felt close to God and strengthened in our faith.

The church we belong to has a policy of not holding virtual communion services, and of course we respect that policy. But we were both feeling the lack of this important feature of Christian worship - something, after all, that Jesus commanded his people to do - and therefore decided there was no good reason why we shouldn’t do what we did. After all, the months are drifting by; it won’t be long before it’s a full year!

We remembered that, in the earliest days of the church, communion (or the Lord’s Supper, or the eucharist, or the mass, or the breaking of bread, or whatever it is generally called in your particular tradition) was an actual meal where the church as a whole gathered. It wasn’t a “sacrament” (whatever that rather slippery word means; it isn’t in the Bible), and there was no requirement that it should be presided over by an officially recognized person (though, as it happens, I am one such).

No: just a meal, in the course of which the participants would pause to remember how the body and blood of Jesus were given for us on the cross. Given that in those early days there were no such things as church buildings, such gatherings would have been held in homes.

So… if then, why not also today?

It would, I hope it goes without saying, be wrong to hold such a gathering “in competition”, so to speak, with an official church gathering. No; the authority of the church must be recognised and submitted to. But lacking such an official gathering - so that the choice comes down to either no communion or an “irregular” communion - again, why not?

What did we actually do?

Answer: the things that you would expect. We read a song or two (too self-conscious to sing!). We read various Bible passages, including the obvious ones from the end of the Gospels (say Matthew 26) or from 1 Corinthians 11. We prayed, using both set prayers and extempore ones, and making sure to lift up to God the needs of our troubled world as well as more personal and local ones. And, when the moment seemed right, we gave thanks for Jesus’ broken body and shed blood and ate a scrap of bread and drank a sip of wine. We also allowed plenty of silence.

Of course, “it wasn’t the same”, as we have got used to saying about all sorts of things during this pandemic. No, as on any other Sunday, we missed the physical closeness of our brothers and sisters in Christ. But we both felt that it was far better than nothing.

We certainly gained as well as lost. Hearing those familiar Bible words again without distraction, and reading beautiful (including “liturgical”) forms of words in prayer or exhortation, brought home to us in a fresh way what this simple act can mean.

I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to use the word “holy” to describe our experience.

If you decided to do this, the format might well be different. There may be more than just two of you in your home. You very likely don’t have an “ordained” minister to preside over the service, in which case a little more research and preparation may be needed in advance. You may, of course, be on your own – but need that prevent you from pausing one meal-time to remember Jesus?

All I can say is: we found it to be a blessing, and would recommend that, if communion really is otherwise just not possible, you at least consider it. Jesus said: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them, and they with me” (Revelation 3: 20).

So simple! So unadorned! So precious!

Lord Jesus, thank you that we don’t have to be in any particular building, or led by any particular individual, in order to know the nearness of your presence. Please, at all times and in all places, make my heart your home. Amen.