This is my body

1 Corinthians 11.17-end

It was a great day for a church picnic. Everyone was bringing their own food, but the PCC had implied that a certain amount of sharing would be encouraged, and the vicar had given Jo and Sam the impression that if they came straight to the picnic after their shift at the warehouse, it wouldn’t matter that they didn’t have time to sort out their own food. ‘Don’t worry’, she said, ‘everyone always brings too much. You just come.’ The picnic ran between 12 and 2, so it seemed fine to arrive as soon as they could after their shift – running for the bus meant they got to the site soon after 12.30. Not too late.

Photo by Christine Siracusa on Unsplash

The vicar seemed distracted when they arrived, getting ready for the communion service. The church members were sitting in groups around the site. Some of the members who came from the big houses at the edge of the area had occupied the picnic tables. They’d brought cloths and had plates and glasses and some very fancy looking dishes of food – a lot posher than any picnic Sam and Jo had ever seen. Other members were sitting around blankets with more ordinary looking food. It was obvious that they’d been eating and drinking for a while and some seemed to have finished already.  

Sam and Jo spotted the picnic organiser with his family at one of the tables and went over to them. ‘You made it then,’ he said to them. ‘We understand from the vicar that you couldn’t bring your own food. Shame. Never mind. There are some cheese sandwiches here.’ And from a bag under the table he pulled out a packet of sandwiches and a bottle of water. As he passed it to Jo, he seemed unembarrassed at his failure to offer any of the wine or lemonade on the table, or of the chicken Caesar salad, quail’s eggs or the delicate individual fruit pavlovas that looked so delicious. Not that there was much of it left.

Sam looked around for somewhere to sit, and found a space some distance from the tables. Soon the vicar was calling them together for communion – the sandwiches would have to wait. She broke the bread, using St Paul’s words about there being one bread and one body, but as Sam and Jo looked around the gathering, it didn’t feel like that to them. The people at the tables had only spoken to them when handing them the sandwiches that were so inferior to their own lunch. It seemed they had nothing in common. ‘But we should’, whispered Jo. ‘Didn’t Jesus die for us too? He didn’t think we were less important than anyone else. So why don’t people talk to us? Why are we over here and not siting at one of those tables? Why aren’t we worth a share in the nice food? Is it just because we can’t afford to put a lot in the collection, or because we’re late – it isn’t our fault that they always start these events while we’re still on shift. If this is the body of Christ, I don’t feel like I’m a part of it’.

What happens next? Do Jo and Sam go and find another church, one where they don’t feel looked down on for being warehouse operatives? Does the vicar spot what is happening and speak out to the wealthy members of the church? Perhaps those wealthy members haven’t realised just how unfair they are being. Perhaps they think preparing a few cheese sandwiches was a great kindness and that they did well – will she put them right? Will she tell them that they are amputating part of the body by behaving so thoughtlessly? Or will she keep quiet, because she’s afraid that these wealthy people have the power to make her life miserable, or even to take her job from her?

I’m not describing a real scenario. Jo and Sam are fictional. But I’ve seen close enough variants a few times in the course of my life to know that what St Paul described in 1 Corinthians 11 is still a threat to the body of Christ now. In those early days of the church, the sharing of bread and wine was becoming symbolic but hadn’t yet been separated from the sharing of a meal. Influenced by the shape of a Passover meal, bread was broken and blessed at the start of a shared meal, and the cup of blessing shared at the end of it. People reminded themselves of all that Jesus had asked them to remember, as part of the sharing in a full meal. But in Corinth the local customs for eating together were leading to divisions within the church. Wealthy hosts would eat in their dining rooms, starting as soon as they were ready. Poorer church members would arrive to find the meal in progress and their food – of a much lower quality – served in the hall. That was not how Paul, Peter and Apollos had taught the Corinthian Christians to behave, and it definitely did not reflect the teaching of Jesus.

As Paul reminded the Corinthians of the story of the Last Supper – and this is the earliest account of it that we have – he was doing it to show them how their behaviour was not a remembrance of Jesus, but rather it was letting him down. Jesus calls his people to be one body, united in love for God and for each other. The bread is the symbol of that body. Jesus, the bread of life, identified his body with bread and asked all who follow to see bread as his body. The bread of life, the body of Christ, both are one. And so, Paul says, when we share that bread, we are not just connecting with Jesus, in receiving something that becomes for us his body. We are connecting with the whole church – because we are the body of Christ. The bread is a symbol and sign of our identity as the church – we are the body of Christ, and so we are the bread of life for the world. Eating that bread is not only a personal spiritual experience. It is a shared experience – the word corporate really comes into its own. Eating the bread binds us as Jesus’ body here on earth, his presence in the world.

And if we believe that, then our behaviour towards each other must be completely respectful, loving and thoughtful. It isn’t acceptable to look down on other Christians. It isn’t acceptable to hand one a cheese sandwich while you eat lobster. Better for everyone to have cheese sandwiches. And to eat them together – not eating first but waiting. In my picnic scenario, the event should have been times to start when Jo and Sam were able to get there. And a proper planned shared meal would have been better too. With tables reserved for those unable to sit on the ground because of bad hips, or dealing with a baby, or old age, even if that meant some people used to a more refined way of living find themselves sitting on the grass. Those who really can’t wait to eat, Paul said – eat at home, because you are making it into a private meal, not a shared meal for Jesus’ followers. There should be no exclusivity, no looking down on people. We are one body and we need to behave as though that matters.

Because it does matter. It matters enough that it was one of the last things that Jesus prayed for, and St Paul and other first generation apostles spoke of it constantly. We are one body. And so let us live thoughtfully, respectfully, lovingly, always putting our fellow Christians needs ahead of our own. Jo and Sam and fictional, but the truth is, there are plenty of people out there who have been made to feel the way that they were. Let’s not be that church. Let’s be the church that Jo and Sam looked for – the one that welcomes, and includes and keeps things equal.

Blessed be God

5/12 Aug                    1 Corinthians 10

Food, glorious food… If we hold a celebration, we provide special food. At a funeral we provide special food. Indeed, in my family, there seems to be a belief that if I recommend a nice pub I’ve been to, I will have been at a funeral wake there. That’s probably right too. Most of us have memories connected with family food rituals, whether it is fish and chips on Saturday nights, or jelly and ice cream at children’s parties, or mum’s Yorkshire pudding with Sunday lunch, or – well, I’m sure that you are thinking of those happy – or not so happy – food memories now.

In chapter 10, Paul is back to the theme of food, and to considering what to do when offered food sacrificed to idols. If you went to a party held by a local friend, the meat being served would have been dedicated to Athene or Apollo or some other deity before the meal began. They’re not real of course, so such a dedication is meaningless. Which meant that Paul could reason that eating the food was fine. There was no reason to offend your hosts or miss out on the best part of the meal. Unless there was another Christian there who really did have a problem, who didn’t agree with that line of reasoning. For some, to eat food dedicated to another deity was to be disloyal to Jesus, to suggest that the other deity was real. If that Christian is going to be distressed by you eating the meant, then don’t eat it, Paul advised. Being thoughtful towards your brother or sister in Christ is more important than getting a plateful of meat.

That thoughtfulness towards fellow Christians is bound up in our own particular experience of sharing food. We make a point of sharing bread and wine together and when we do that we remember one particular special meal. We remember Jesus telling his friends that when they eat the bread and drink the wine together remembering him, the bread becomes his body, the wine his blood. And sharing it strengthens our unity as his body on earth – the bread is his body, and so are we.

As Paul considered this, he used words that were so helpful we repeat them regularly. In Living Brook benefice, almost every communion service includes a phrase that paraphrases Paul’s words:

          We break this bread

          to share in the body of Christ.

          Though we are many, we are one body,

          because we all share in one bread.

We are one, and called to prioritise doing the things that make us one. To prioritise living loving lives, being thoughtful towards each other, putting ourselves second. As in this case, when the strong believer sets aside her sense of rightness in order to spare the weak believer from distress at the dining table.

What made the meat ultimately acceptable for Paul was more than just his sense that the dedication to idols was irrelevant. There was something else that Paul did. At public meals he may have done it silently, in his head, but he certainly did it, and he mentions it here. Paul made the meat acceptable by doing what every good Jew did before eating anything, what every Jewish and Gentile follower of Jesus did before sharing bread and wine together. And what I hope that you do before you eat – I’m sure you do. He gave thanks to God, dedicating the food to God. When Paul ate meat at a public event, he was eating meat which was dedicated to the Lord our God.

In Judaism today, the words of blessing are closely related to the ones Paul would have known. Orthodox Jews learn different prayers to use according to the kind of food that is being consumed, and say them in a particular order, beginning with the most important staple food that always links us to God: bread. From the manna in the wilderness to the bread always kept at the temple, bread is a sacred food for Jews. When Jesus called himself the bread of life, he was connecting himself to the most precious foodstuff, as well as the most basic. For us as Christians, our recollection that bread connects us so intimately to Jesus makes it even more precious. The Jewish blessing on bread can be translated:

          Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe,  

          who brings forth bread from the earth.

The prayer Paul would have said quietly before he consumed meat may have been like the one used today:

          Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe,  

          by whose Word all things came to be.

The Word in the prayer refers to the logos, the life-giving Holy Spirit of God, present at creation and breathing life into the world. Christians associate the Word with Jesus through the opening words of John’s gospel: ‘In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God’. Blessing God in this way makes any food in front of us a reminder of all that God has done for us.

Have you noticed that these prayers are familiar? Because these ancient Jewish prayers, still everyday prayers for so many Jews today, are also entwined into our communion liturgy, in an adapted form. They are optional, but we use them on most Sundays here in Living Brook benefice, using a slightly different translation.

          Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation:

          through your goodness we have this bread to set before you,

          which earth has given and human hands have made.

          It will become for us the bread of life.              

When we use these words we connect to our Jewish heritage, and to the way that Paul saw food: something precious to be eaten in grateful thanks to God for all that he has given us. We bless God for our food.

When Joanna and Kate were growing up, Paul and I insisted on giving thanks – or saying grace – before meals. We’d make up words of thanks on the spot, or use words from one of their prayer books. A particular favourite was

         

          God is great, God is good,

          Thank you God for all our food.

We bought a cube with six different prayers on it, and sometimes rolled it like a die, saying whichever prayer was face up. The important thing was, we always gave thanks, and we still do. We – like most of you, I’m sure – would be the ones who had no problem with saying grace in a restaurant. And like Paul, in those situations where giving thanks to God out loud really isn’t possible, we still do it, quietly. God hears us, and we ourselves know that the meal becomes a reminder of God’s bountiful goodness to us.

In a time when others are hungry, reminding ourselves of God’s goodness every time we eat should also be a reminder to share our portion of his bountiful gifts with others. In Northampton, hundreds of children are fed in school every day because they wouldn’t get to eat properly at home. During the school holiday, churches in different parts of the town are supporting projects to ensure that children still get to have at least one decent meal every day during the school holidays. Last Sunday our CHAT teams highlighted this for us and invited people to make a pledge to support the foodbank as a sign of our commitment to help those who would otherwise go hungry. You can make a donation of food, or of money – if you would like us to pass on a monetary donation for you, please make sure that it is labelled as being for the food bank, and we’ll make sure it gets there.

If you are reading this on the blog, www.restorenorthampton.org.uk/ will take you to the website of the foodbank regularly supported by our benefice collections.

If we take seriously Paul’s connection between what we eat when we share bread and wine together and the way we become the body of Christ as a people, then we realise that we are ourselves reminders of our creator God’s holiness. Just as saying grace – Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of all creation, by whose word all things came to be – makes our food a reminder of God’s creative power and generous gift to us, so we, as we eat it, and in our own dedication at baptism, become a truly holy people. We are the outward sign in the world of God’s holy, life giving and creative activity in the world. People will recognise that when they see us working for unity in love, and when they see us reaching out creatively, lovingly, to give life to others however we can.