Daydreaming During Communion

This blog post is based on my sermon from March 3, 2019, which was titled, "Daydreaming During Communion."

This is all that's showing of the sermon title after Sunday night's snowfall. 

Katonah, NY, morning of Monday, March 4, 2019

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome with fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Get up and do not be afraid." And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.                                       --Matthew 17:1-8, New Revised Standard Version

I have an honest, soul-searching question for you. Have you ever daydreamed during communion?

I'll answer that question honestly. There have been moments when I've been sitting in that chair in the chancel, doing my best to think devotional thoughts, and then the next thing I know I'm in the mountains, sitting on an Adirondack chair, and I can see four figures in the distance. Are they lost hikers, perhaps? And then I realize that those four figures are the four elders who have been serving communion to the congregation, and they are standing at the back of the sanctuary, looking at me expectantly and most likely wondering why I haven't given them the signal to come forward yet.

Perhaps you've had moments like that. You're seated in your chair, doing your best to think devotional thoughts, but you end up wondering whether you remembered to make those brunch reservations, or you're wondering if your dentist appointment is tomorrow or the next day, or perhaps you've opened the wardrobe door to peek into Narnia, and then suddenly you look around to your left and to the right, and standing on opposite ends of your row are Moses and Elijah themselves, waiting for you to hurry up already and take a piece of bread and pass the tray.

(thank you to Sue Kravits for the meme)

When I was young I was warned of the consequences of daydreaming during communion. My grandmother would quote 1 Corinthians 11:29 in the King James Version: "For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself." 

That was a frightening verse to a ten-year-old, and it quite literally scared the hell into me. Years later I learned that the Apostle Paul was actually speaking of those who indulged in the Lord's Supper while excluding others. 

Nowadays I have an entirely different take on daydreaming during communion. Now I believe that our daydreams and visions help us to understand that there is always so much more to communion than what we can observe with our eyes or taste with our tongues.

My friend and mentor Roland Perdue is a retired Presbyterian pastor, a gifted preacher, and a wonderful storyteller. He tells the story of walking by the church his family attended when he was in high school in College Park, Georgia. The door to the church was open--an unusual occurrence on a Friday afternoon. Roland started up the steps to close the door, but something caught his eye. He walked into the sanctuary and noticed that the communion table was completely bathed in red. Roland said it looked as if all the communions ever celebrated in that sanctuary had been gathered up and poured over the table, splattered on the legs, and splashed on the floors and the walls. Roland thought of the connection between the red colors of communion and the life of a man from the past, dying for him, rising in glory, and inviting him to eat with him the next time the table was spread.

And then, suddenly, the communion table was bathed in green light. It stayed green for a while, and then everything briefly turned to yellow before turning red again, and Roland realized that the entire visual effect was being caused by the traffic light outside. Common sense told him that. But he also believed that he saw the extraordinary radiance of God shimmering in the ordinary and reflected lights from the street. (from a sermon by Roland Perdue, "Painted Bunting")

I am becoming more convinced that we need dreams and visions and wild imaginations to appreciate everything that happens at this table.

(Oh, the visions we'll see when the traffic light shines through the church windows!)

We often say that the communion meal is a memorial meal reminding us of Jesus' suffering and death. But we also say that the Lord's Supper is the joyful feast of the people of God. How can it be both at the same time? 

Perhaps we need a dream or a vision to help us make the connection.

When the Transfiguration scene takes place in Matthew's Gospel, Jesus has just told the disciples that he must suffer and die. Matthew goes on to narrate how Jesus is eventually arrested and put to death, describing the crucifixion in gruesome detail. But before Matthew tells us the story of the crucifixion he tells us another story--the story of Transfiguration--a story which discloses to us who Jesus is and what his ministry means. (I'm in debt to Thomas G. Long, Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion, p. 94, for the insight into the juxtaposition of the Transfiguration and Crucifixion stories).

So when Matthew later tells us how the soldiers gambled over Jesus' clothing, he wants us to remember that in the moment of Transfiguration Jesus' clothes were shining with glimmering brilliance.

When Jesus on the cross is surrounded by two criminals, one on his left and one on his right, Matthew wants us to remember how in the Transfiguration Jesus was flanked by both Moses and Elijah.

On the cross Jesus is taunted by people crying out, "If you're really the Son of God, take yourself down from that cross!," but in the moment of Transfiguration, there was a voice from heaven which proclaimed, "This is my beloved Son!"

In the crucifixion scene Jesus dies in humiliation with the crowds waiting to see whether Elijah will come to save him, and in the Transfiguration scene Moses and Elijah depart the scene at the end, leaving Jesus alone to shine in glory.

So, how can this meal be both a memorial of Jesus' death and the joyful feast of the people of God? It is both because whenever we think of Jesus' suffering and death we can also think of Jesus' shining splendor and glory. We can hear and understand one story in the light of the other.

When you and I daydream during communion, 

when our minds wander from one thing to another, 

when we sit in our rows passing the trays 

but our minds are racing and our hearts are grieving 

because we've just heard some devastating family news 

or received an unexpected and frightening medical diagnosis, 

even in those moments, 

when our minds are a million miles away and definitely not thinking devotional thoughts, 

all it takes is a little bit of bread and a cup to connect us with the Jesus who gently touches us on the shoulder and tells us not to be afraid.

Joanna Adams is a Presbyterian pastor who served churches in Atlanta. She tells the story of a pastoral visit she paid to a retired minister in her congregation whose mind and memory had been ravaged by Alzheimer's disease. She went to take him communion. She read some scripture, and finally set the elements before him. In a momentary fit of rage he said, "What is this?" Then he shouted, "WHAT IS THIS?!" Joanna said she was searching her mind for some way of calming him down, when suddenly he answered his own question: "This is the joyful feast of the people of God," he said, and then lifting his eyes to the heavens, he prayed, "Almighty God, we thank You for this supper shared in the Spirit with your son Jesus." And for a few moments, he was reconnected with grace and standing in the presence of glory. (from a sermon preached by Joanna Adams, when she was pastor of Atlanta's Trinity Presbyterian Church)

In a few minutes we will pass the trays. We will share the bread of heaven and the cup of blessing. 

And who knows what dreams may come.

All glory and praise be to our God. Amen.

For discussion: what do you often think about during communion? Is there a particular vision or thought that has helped you connect the sacrament to your own life?