We All Partake

“The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.”

-1 Corinthians 10:16-17

Did you know that the central symbol of Christian worship has not always been the cross?

It may seem strange to say that. The cross is everywhere now. We wear it as jewelry. We place it on top of steeples. We hang it in sanctuaries. We use it to mark churches as places of worship. And of course, the cross is central to our faith because it is the place where Christ’s self-giving love is most clearly revealed.

But for much of the church’s history, one of the central visual symbols of Christian worship was the altar. The altar is a dual symbol. It points us back to the ancient altar where sacrifice was offered, and it points us forward to the communion table where Christ feeds the church with the holy mystery of his body and blood.

The family retreat to Epworth ends with a shared communion meal.

Before the liturgy, I placed the elements on the table and was immediately swarmed by children who wanted to help set up for the service. After vigorous hand-washing, we soon had a large group of children busy tearing communion bread into pieces, placing it into a basket, and pouring grape juice into the chalice I had brought for the service.

Once everyone was gathered in a large circle, I told the story of Jesus feeding his disciples at the Last Supper. I gave thanks, blessed the elements, and, with Iris’ help, served the first person in our circle. Then I sat down.

The first person served then turned to their neighbor and served them, and on it went around the circle until all had been fed.

That is one of the reasons this shared communion meal is such a fitting way to end the retreat. It gathers up everything we have been reflecting on this week.

On Monday, we remembered the old Christian symbol of the pelican, whose self-giving love points us to Christ, who pours himself out for us. At the communion table, we receive that love again. The bread is broken. The cup is blessed. Christ gives himself for the life of the world.

On Tuesday, we remembered that the church is not just a collection of separate families. We are one body, called to care for one another. At the communion table, that truth becomes visible. Paul says, “Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body.” The table does not merely symbolize our unity; it forms us into the people Christ has called us to be.

On Wednesday, we remembered that Christ came so that we might have life and have it abundantly. Faith is not meant to be a dour observance. It is meant to open us to joy, gratitude, beauty, and delight. And Communion is, at its heart, thanksgiving. The word Eucharist means thanksgiving. We come to the table not because we have earned our place there, but because we have been invited to receive with joy what Christ freely gives. 

On Thursday, we thought about the beach as a liminal space, a threshold where land meets sea and where God often meets us in seasons of transition. Communion is also a threshold. We come with our failures, our hunger, our questions, and our hopes, and Christ meets us there with grace. We leave the table changed because we have received grace there.

Communion neatly encapsulates the message of the gospel. Christ has given himself for us, and this grace is received with joy and thanksgiving. The church has become one body, and in this meal that unity is made visible. All come empty-handed to receive the same grace.

That is what moved me as Iris helped me serve Communion.

I have served Communion many times before, but this was the first time I got to bless and serve it with my daughter. There she was, standing beside me, helping offer the bread and cup to the body of Christ. And then, just as importantly, there I was, sitting back down so that someone else could serve me.

That is the beauty of the table. None of us owns it. None of us controls it. Not the pastor. Not the congregation. Not the oldest member. Not the most faithful volunteer. It is Christ’s table, and because it is Christ’s table, there is room for all of us.

There is room for the children who are thrilled to help. There is room for the parents who are tired from keeping up with those children. There is room for the young adults who once came to this retreat as kids and now pass their traditions to the next generation. There is room for the longtime members, the first-time guests, the certain and the uncertain, the joyful and the weary, the ones who feel close to God, and the ones who are not sure what they feel.

We all come with empty hands.

We all receive the same grace.

We all partake of the one bread.

And by that grace, Christ makes us one body.


Rev. Ryan Young