Why We Gather At The Table

A majestic cathedral in Northern Europe was known for its magnificent organ. Unlike the electronic organs of today, these organs depended on a man who would pump by hand the air needed for the organ to produce its great sound.

A guest organist was scheduled to play for a 4 p.m. recital featuring the works of Mozart and Mendelssohn. This brilliant guest organist bowed before the crowd and said, “For my first selection I will play a piece by Mozart.” He sat at the organ and began to press the keys but absolutely no sound came out. He attempted a second time but again to no avail. This time, very aggravated, he said loudly, “For my first selection I will play a piece by Mozart.” He returned to the keyboard but still no sound.

Suddenly he heard a voice from behind the organ, “If you don’t say we, I ain’t gonna pump.” The organist smiled and said, “For OUR first selection WE will play a piece from Mozart.” Then great music was heard by all.

The church of Jesus Christ always plays its best music when we realize that it is “we” and not “I.” Perhaps this is why our Lord Jesus Christ put a table—The Lord’s Table—at the center of our faith.

The table teaches us that we are a community of faith. We gather here like a family assembled to break bread. At his table we are one.

In the summer of 1966 a Boy Scout troop, en route to Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, stopped at the Sequoia National Park in northern California. One of the guides shared a valuable insight. He said that you will never find a Sequoia tree in isolation. Sequoias only survive by being close to each other. Despite the very large size to which they grow, they have very shallow roots. They survive because the root system of each tree is interwoven and connected to those of its neighbor. This is where their strength derives. When fierce winds come, the trees literally depend on one another to stand. There is no rugged individualism here. Community is the answer.

One of the greatest threats to the Christian community in the 20th century is a fierce individualism that prevents unity of purpose. It seems we are each so very different and unique. We all tend to go our own way. We’re so busy with our own agendas, we are isolated from one another.

Many of us have been enslaved to the mindset of the ME generation. So many neighborhoods are only 27 inches wide. They are only occupied by one person— ourselves. At Christ’s table we are reminded that we are a community.

We are also reminded of our common hunger. That is what we do at a table, is it not? We satisfy our hunger.

Jesus knew that the greatest human hunger, beyond all our other hungers and desires, is the hunger for God. When we deny that hunger, or attempt to satisfy it with false and empty substitutes, we wind up with a deadly self-righteousness, and something beautiful dies within us. Christ knew that there is a hunger in our soul that only the bread of heaven can satisfy.

Shortly before his death, tennis great Arthur Ashe wrote these words to his daughter Camera:

“Camera, have faith in God. Do not be tempted whether by pleasures and material possessions, or by the claims of science and smart thinkers, into believing that religion is obsolete, that the worship of God is somehow beneath you. Spiritual nourishment is as important as physical nourishment and intellectual

nourishment . . . Do not beg God for favors. Instead, ask God for the wisdom to know what is right, what God wants done, and the will to do it.

“Know the Bible. Read the Psalms and the Sermon on the Mount, and everything else in that timeless book. You will find consolation for your darkest hours. You will find inscribed there the meaning of life and the way you should live. You will grow into a deeper understanding of life’s meanings.”

Arthur Ashe was right—spiritual nourishment is as important as physical nourishment. The Lord’s Supper reminds us of that truth, and then provides that nourishment. The table reminds us that we are a community. It reminds us of our common hunger.

It also reminds us of our common hope. The Son of God has come into our midst. Our sins have been forgiven. Through him all things are possible.

Donghua Li was a prominent gymnast in his country of China. He had left his family at a young age in order to enter the Chinese athletic machine, and his only dream in life was to compete in the Olympics. And that seemed to be his destiny, until the day he fell in love with a young Swiss woman named Esperanza Friedli.

When Donghua’s coach forced him to choose between gymnastics or marriage to Esperanza, Donghua chose Esperanza. He moved to Switzerland and gave up his place on the Chinese Olympic team.

Donghua’s decision forced him to miss competing in the 1992 Olympics, but he set his sights on representing Switzerland in the 1996 Games. Life in Switzerland wasn’t easy. The government of China gave financial support to its athletes, so they had the finest equipment and facilities at their disposal. The athletic facilities in Switzerland couldn’t even compare. But Donghua trained obsessively anyway.

Although people respected his skill, Donghua knew they didn’t have much confidence in his winning the Olympics. By the time of the 1996 Olympics, he would be 29 years old, way past the prime of most Olympians. Few people believed he could compete against younger athletes. But Esperanza cheered Donghua on every step of the way.

When he felt most hopeless, he knew he could turn to her for encouragement. It is appropriate that Esperanza’s name means “hope.” The day before he was to compete in the 1996 Olympics, Donghua came down with a raging case of tonsillitis. But his coach, knowing how much Donghua wanted to compete, lied to him and told him it was just a simple cold. The next day, Donghua Li won a gold medal for the Swiss gymnastic team in the 1996 Olympic Games.

When we gather at the Lord’s table, we are reminded that there is One who cheers us on in the game of life. We are reminded that we are people of hope.

The Lord’s Supper had its origins in the Jewish Passover, the remembrance of the night that God sent death upon the first-born of all the Egyptian households but “passed over” the households whose doorposts were covered by the blood of the lamb. It was this incident that led to the Israelites gaining their freedom from slavery in Egypt. The Passover tradition begins with the youngest child in the family asking the father, “Why is this night different from other nights?” This is the father’s cue to begin telling the Passover story.

When our Jewish friends eat this meal at Passover, they celebrate their freedom from the bondage of Egypt and the new opportunities for life that have been given them. We also think of the freedom that Christ gives us from the bondage to sin, guilt, and death. We are a people of hope because of what Christ has done for us.

Finally, we come to the table because of our common faith. This table reminds us all that we belong to him. It reminds us that despite the fact we gather as different people from different backgrounds, male and female, young and old, rich and poor, through the shed blood of Jesus Christ we are united in a common faith.

The word “sacrament” comes from the Latin word SACRAMENTUM, which originally referred to the oath of allegiance to the emperor taken by a Roman soldier. Whenever we receive the Lord’s Supper, we are repeating an oath of allegiance to Jesus Christ, our Emperor. We are not here tending a dead tradition. We are paying homage to a living Lord.

So why do we gather at the table? Because we are a community of faith. Because we have a common hunger. Because we have a common hope. Because we share a common faith.