We Eat and Drink Our Mystery (in 333 words)

by Samir Selmanovic on March 2, 2010

Every week I post 333 word summary or reflection about what my community has learned last Sabbath. We would love to continue learning, so please leave a comment, ask a question, or just say hello. Thanks!

There is a mystery in the center of your religion. What is its name? Around what treasure does your community gather? What do your wise elders talk about? What sustains the imagination of your people?

We Christians sit around a table, we place bread and wine on it, and then we bless them. These elements arrive to us from the earth, through a long chain of labor, served by people who care for us. Once blessed, they become the body and the blood of God. And then we eat our mystery.

Surprisingly, this is not bizarre to us.

These elements are an icon in which we see our very own lives.

We maintain that the fusion of joy and suffering in our experience has been made possible by the fusion of joy and suffering in God. To us, God is not apart. Not some day, not some other place.

God’s broken body and our broken body are one. Our blood spills together. Our tears mingle together. Our laughter feeds of God’s laughter and God’s laughter feeds of ours.

Jesus happened to us. And now we live more deeply.

Without eating this bread and drinking this wine, we find ourselves living half-heartedly. We shelter ourselves from suffering of our human family, animal world, and the earth. We see our isolation as our good fortune. We expect—nay, demand—joy without pain, growth without strife, enjoyment without regret, ecstasy without agony, community without conflict. That’s why we turn to the bread and wine that is Jesus. The passion (a.k.a. joy) of his life and the passion (a.k.a. suffering) on his cross were one.

Around our table, we reset our lives to what is real. We don’t seek happiness, we don’t seek sadness, we seek reality. Full life.

We do talk and write about our mystery. But the words are not enough. We Christians, eat our mystery. One focused moment when all our senses, our whole being, and our entire community ventures into the world as it is.

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  • caleb
    Communion will never be the same for me after reading this. Thank you.
  • For several years, ever since working with Tami at Young & Restless, we wrestled with putting meaning and purpose back into the communion experience. My feet don't need washing, what does all this mean? How is this relevant to me today?

    We thought of many different exchanges, but never really settled on anything poignant. But when does a ritual lose it's significance? When has a ritual lost it's meaning and purpose? The early Christians wrestled with this when they eventually eliminated circumcision from their repertoire of rituals.

    What rituals do we have that should be eliminated? Would foot washing be better served by cleaning the rooms in a transient hotel? Would bread and wine be better substituted with a latte'?

    Thank you for reintroducing the concept of mystery Samir. That, I believe, is the missing component for many.

    A couple of weeks ago, I participated in a Labyrinth experience at a local Episcopalian church facility. I don't know why I did it. I don't know what I got out of it. It was mysterious and scary. I will do it again!
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