Communion

Posted on 24th Aug by Adam − Category: News

I have always had issues with communion. The problem is that it never felt real. I have only ever experienced communion in a quiet church building. Maybe some melodic, Christian music playing in the background. The congregation files out and back into their pews after queuing to quickly chew on a little square of bread and sip some on communal wine.

It always feels desperately forced. Like the kind of place I couldn’t imagine Jesus. Where do the biblical stories of communion fit in? A group of the closest friends, having food, hanging out and sharing life.  There was a weightiness about those moments. As we read about them in the gospels it feels desperately holy.

It probably hasn’t been my passion or conviction that I should go out and try to find a proper way to do communion. I found myself satisfied with what was on the table. Not spending too much time worrying about it.

Then something beautiful happened.

Ever step into a moment when it feels like your heart might explode with emotion. A moment that is so heavy and light you hardly know what to do with yourself?  You can’t create or manipulate these moments. You can’t search for them. They are pure and often extremely holy.

Hannah and I were walking through Kasubi slum with Joash and Faruq, two of the kids who live there when Mama Shamira asked us to join her for tea. It is always a great honour for us to be invited to eat or drink with anyone in the Communities we work in so we gratefully accepted and followed her to her house. She quickly disappeared and we waited patiently for her to return. When she did she had bought for us several small bread rolls and a bottle of red soda.

Out of having nothing she had blessed us with the most holy communion we would ever partake in. And we both knew it.

She broke the bread and passed it to each of us and the small children we were holding. Pouring the soda, not into ornate silver glasses but into plain plastic cups, she passed it to each of us also. She herself, only having four cups to hand out, drank from the bottle. We thanked her and told her that she had blessed us in ways she couldn’t imagine. Her words to us were ‘It is God’s will for us to share like this.’

This woman has very little of anything. The previous week she had given away her last food to a hungry neighbour even though she had nothing left for herself or her family. No money, no food. And she chose to give. This woman speaks with great authority about the will of God.

‘Mother Teresa used to say, “In the poor we meet Jesus in his most distressing disguises.” Now I knew what she meant. I found that I was as likely to meet God in the sewers of the ghetto as in the halls of academia. I learned more about God from the tears of homeless mothers than any systematic theology ever taught me.’ – Shane Claiborne

Adam