Paul is trying to explain the Eucharist, retelling the story of Jesus first sharing bread and wine, saying this is my body and blood. Whenever you share bread and wine after I’m gone, do it in remembrance of me. Paul’s advice is that the people of Corinth should practice the Eucharist, but only take the bread and wine if they’ve first examined themselves. He goes on to say that if you take communion without that self-appraisal, the act of taking communion becomes a judgement against yourself.
I almost understand his logic, and I’m sure there are lengthy works written about what he means, that I’ll never read, so apologies if this is nonsensical or heretical. To me, what this is saying is that to participate in Eucharist, take the bread and wine in the way Jesus offered, we believe is a sacrament; it is a sure and certain way to connect with God. Some days, I feel this and some days I don’t. But I believe a connection God occurs, regardless of my perception, or mood, or my feelings about the person administering communion. It’s a sure and certain way to connect.
If it’s a certainty, that I will encounter God during communion, it makes some sense that I reflect on myself, appraise my actions before doing that. God has the power to transform, renew, restore, refresh all the little bits of me, and it’s a lot easier for that to happen if I first find them, and put them on a figurative presentation platter before God, and then go to communion. If I am either actively hiding or ignorantly unaware of parts of me, God may let them lie festering until I’m ready to bring them forward. The Eucharist is a regular opportunity for that grace.
But God sees all of those bits of me that I leave behind my shiny self. When I come to the Eucharistic Table, God may be smiling sadly, shaking his head that I’ve again left part of me behind. God sees all, and may wonder when I will see.
Not only does God see, but if there are bits of me I leave at home, it’s likely other people see those parts of me too. For example, one of my uglier bits is that I really like credit for what I know. If I do something that’s right, for some reason, it’s important to me that others know I was right. Often, this bit is left behind, when I confess my sins, or self-reflect. But I’m certain it’s obvious to others. Others may judge me on that trait. But, if I reflect and judge me first, the observation of others is less like a judgment and more like a statement of fact. It’s easier to rise above judgmental statements about me, if I’ve first reached the same conclusion. Then I have the option of handing those bits of my self over to God for renewal, or to acknowledge to others, myself and God that those judgements I receive? They’re not judgments as much as they’re statements of fact.
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