Featuring René August, Anglican priest in the Diocese of Cape Town, and Global Peacebuilding Specialist with Tearfund UK.
Film photograph
The tablecloth in this photo was crocheted by my Nanny. Over time, with care, she crafted this piece to be used, remembered and passed down to new generations. In a similar – though far more significant way – Jesus crafted these elements of Communion, with care, to be remembered and passed down to new generations. When we participate in the Lord’s Supper, we are reminded that we are part of the body of Christ, and our own stories join in with His.
For God’s people in the time of Jesus’ earthly ministry, the Passover meal was shared with a particular story in mind: unleavened bread made in a hurry, no time for yeast to prove; the blood of the lamb that was slaughtered, the blood on doorposts that saved them at the time of the exodus from Egypt.
But Jesus begins to make the story bigger: My blood. Not a lamb’s blood, not someone else’s blood. My blood poured out. My body broken for you. Paul picks up this image and calls us the body of Christ in the world. We are the ones now invited to say, my body broken for you. The imitation of Jesus is this connection to self-offering love that gives myself for the benefit of the other. I say yes to being broken for peace. I say yes to being poured out. Every time I receive that meal, I connect my story to the story of Jesus – and my yes to Jesus’ yes.
The table is an antidote to a busy life – you have to set it, prepare it, clean it up. The table is the antidote to living at odds with people, because it forces you to come in, to see who’s there, to connect. It is an antidote to transactional consumption, as we connect with the earth and creation and hands that grew and produced a meal.
Genesis says God created us in God’s image and God said it was “forcefully” good. Very good. Dynamically good. Dynamic goodness isn’t in the table itself; it’s in the relationships between the things that create the table. When we bring people, ingredients, and creation together, that goodness produces more goodness. And the goodness between things is what justice is.
God of the broken bread and the poured-out wine, we come to this table grateful for the gift of your Son, who did not cling to his wholeness but offered himself, broken and poured out for the world. May our hands be extended – not in transaction, but in grace. May the relationships forged around this table become the dynamic goodness that works for justice in our neighbourhoods and across the earth. Make us your body, broken and poured out for peace, so that we may taste the new life of your Kingdom. Amen.
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