In seminary, I took a class called "History and Theology of the Eucharist" only because it was held on Tuesday afternoon when I was otherwise free and I needed an upper level history elective. I'm really thankful I did. I learned that my assumptions about the meaning of Communion-- that it was a nice way of remembering Jesus' sacrifice on the cross-- did not match the Eucharistic theology of the early church, of John Wesley, or indeed of most of Christendom for most of Christian history. For Methodists, Communion is not just a memorial, a metaphor. It's a sacrament-- Jesus is really present in that bread and cup. Communion really conveys grace; God is at work; it's not a merely human activity. (That memorial theology came from Zwingli during the Protestant Reformation and was really only embraced by the Baptist wing of the ecclesial family tree. From a historical perspective, the burden of proof is on them to explain why this meal in which Jesus says "This is my body" is "just" a symbol, not on the whole rest of the Christian family to explain why Jesus is clearly here.) I think a lot of Methodists don't understand real presence, many of us formed by more Baptist leaning preaching. We fail to understand our real heritage. We repeat the cliche, a misquote of Augustine-- Communion is an outward and visible sign of an inward, invisible grace. Augustine actually said VISIBLE sign and INVISIBLE grace. All Augustine meant was that the bread and cup are physical manifestations of God's invisible grace. He did not mean that Communion only matters on an inward level. (Augustine got a lot of stuff wrong, at least from a Wesleyan standpoint, but he was right about Communion.) No, Jesus is really there at the table, bigger than our inward thoughts. Jesus is really there, not just in my soul but in the whole communion of saints gathered around the table.
So why does a robustly Wesleyan theology of real presence matter, practically speaking?
(1) Communion puts the role of the pastor in proper perspective.
It was a month or two into my first year of ministry back in Georgia when a wonderful church member invited me to come to an event on a Saturday night and offered to pick me up. I was too inexperienced to consider why that would be a bad idea, and so busy that week by the time Saturday evening rolled around, my sermon still wasn't done. I figured I'd wrap it up after my time with this family was over. Long story short, I got home at about 2 am. The whole thing was my fault and taught me valuable lessons about keeping Saturday nights unscheduled and about how "no thank you" can be a loving, pastoral response. My sermon the next day was terrible-- rambling and unfocused and finally, mercifully, over. But then, thank God, we had Communion. And in spite of my ineptitude, Communion fed everybody, and I could rest secure in that. When the sermon is the climax of every worship service, it communicates that worship is the pastor's show. It perpetuates the misconception that the pastor is the expert. But in a service of Word and Table, properly understood, Jesus is revealed as clearly the true host of the meal, the true bread and wine and source of life, the true Lord of the church, really present.
(2) Communion is real.
I think there's a lot of bad liturgical theology (meaning, understanding of what worship is) out there. We often think about worship as primarily for us. We are there to see our friends, to sing our favorite songs, to hear a message that makes us feel good. The way a lot of people talk about worship exposes this common misconception-- we say "I was fed today" or "I didn't get a lot out of that service." We are often practical atheists, to borrow a Wesleyan term, professing belief in God but acting as though God isn't there. We but often don't think of God as an active presence in the worship service, acting on us. A proper Eucharistic theology opens our eyes. (As Luke puts it, He was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.) Communion isn't a memorial we act out. It's the risen Lord Jesus Christ really there, for real! Digesting this truth over time helps us think about and talk about worship as a real encounter with God. Which is crucial in a time of declining worship attendance. If worship is just a human thing, a time of learning or a time of inspiration I can get that just as well or better on my couch with Spotify, Ted Talks, or a book and a glass of wine. Unchurched generations will not be compelled by worship as another product of inspiration in a market already saturated, nor will the nominal, C&E (Christmas and Easter only) Christians. But worship as an active encounter with the living God... that's unique. That's an extraordinary claim. In my opinion, it's one worth getting out of bed for. It's real.
(3) Communion teaches us about real faith.
It takes faith to believe Jesus is really there in a special way. It takes little faith to believe it's just a symbol. It takes faith to believe in a mystery we cannot see or explain. Communion properly understood, therefore, inculcates precisely the same kind of faith we need beyond Sunday morning. I found my own faith grow exponentially the year I shed my quasi-Zwinglianism. I learned to see Jesus not only in bread and wine, but in similarly humble places. A traffic jam on Atlanta's crowded highways leading me to prayer. Shooting the breeze with seminary buddies. Making omelets with the farm fresh eggs gifted to me by parishioners. My own slowly improving preaching, as Sunday morning filled me with an energy I did not understand and could not have come from me. My parishioners-- their sporadic attendance, their rough voices that in my ears sounded like choirs of angels, their patience with their young and over-eager pastor. Belief in the real presence of Christ at the Communion table cultivates a sacramental imagination, teaches us to see Jesus everywhere.
This is just the beginning of what I want to say about why sacramental theology is so important, about how it has been so transformative in my own spirituality. More to come...