Theology for the Masses

Conversations in Theology and its interaction with Culture

Browsing Posts tagged Teeth

We took communion today at church. That I’ve noted it tells you how rare an occasion this actually is. For being a democratic people who put emphasis on the priesthood of every believer, we Baptists are really pretty hierarchical about who can lead the serving of the communion. As we’ve been without a pastor for a number of months now, we’ve avoided the Lord’s Supper, I think, because there hasn’t been an “official” present to direct it.

Either way, I couldn’t help but think today that the early church deemed the event life-giving and vital to their existence. Yet in my tradition we really can do with or without it. I seriously don’t think most Baptist churches would even notice if failed to take the Lord’s Supper for a full year. Why did the early church find this event so vital? What is so essential about it? – Those are genuine questions, not merely rhetorical ones.

Sometimes it is disadvantageous being Baptist. The Lord’s Supper is not a “means of grace;” it is merely an ordinance that symbolizes the death of Christ. But there are many things that symbolize Christ’s death – what makes this one so special? Surely it is, but I don’t know that my tradition has reflected enough on it to have a good answer to that question.

Furthermore, as we went though the ceremony, I wondered what my mind is supposed to dwell on while taking the elements. As I crush the bread between my teeth, am I to be thinking of the breaking body of Christ? Is it that literal? Should I be confessing sin? What does it mean to take the Supper “unworthily?”

Or what about the unity that should be symbolized at the Lord’s Supper? In Baptist churches we have individual wafers and individual cups, each symbolizing our individual spirituality. But, to me, there’s something vital to everyone taking from the same piece of bread and drinking from the same cup. We are the body of Christ partaking in the body of Christ. We destroy congregational solidarity when we individualize the communion (not to mention, we’ve just created a contradiction in terms.

But the rampant individualism doesn’t stop there. Indeed, our emphasis is on making sure that we each individually are “right before God” before we take up the cup and bread. But never have I been in a service where we talked about communal repentance before the Lord’s Supper. Our privatized prayers and individualized religion perpetuate lifelessness. The communion seems to be an opportunity to break free from this. Yet we’ve colonized this as well.

As a movement, we Baptists are probably too prideful and stubborn to ask for help. Nevertheless, I ask you for help: what should I be thinking about as I take the Lord’s Supper? Is Christ really present in the elements in some way? Does the Spirit dynamically meet with the people during the Supper? How do we conquer the individualism of this communal ceremony? I feel there is vitality there yet untapped, but to be honest, I don’t even know where to begin.

In the book of Job, written sometime between the early sixth and late fifth century BCE, God describes Job as a blameless and upright man who fears God and turns away from evil.  What is such a man like?  If we were to be blameless and God fearing, what sort of things ought we do?

I don’t know about you, but growing up I often imagined good ole Job as a quiet, monkly figure who amassed wealth and other manifestations of favor from God through smart and godly business practices.  I imagined his actions as self-contained.  He surely was righteous because he did no wrong, a passive righteousness, a lack of sin.  Similarly, I conceived personal righteousness in the same terms – if I don’t actively sin, I am being righteous.  Always righteousness was framed in terms of protecting it from sin.

Job considers righteousness as something completely different. Job, in verse 14 of chapter 29, poetically links righteousness and justice, saying:

I put on righteousness and it clothed me;

     my justice was like a robe and a turban.

While it makes perfect sense in retrospect, it something that I never really considered before. Just as robes and turbans clothe a person, justice the the action of the righteous.  Lets look around this verse and see how Job was righteous.

  • delivered the poor who cried and orphan who had no helper
  • blessed the wretched
  • caused the widow to sing for joy
  • eyes to the blind
  • feet to the lame
  • father to the needy
  • championed the cause of the stranger
  • broke the fangs of the unrighteous (those acting unjustly, apparently)
  • made the unrighteous drop their prey (those who were people oppressed) from their teeth

How different this is from what I used to imagine?  Job is not cloistered, separated from society, being a “perfect” individual.  Here he is actively engaged with those around him, helping those in need and opposing those who oppress.  He is righteous because he takes an active stance against sin in the world.  Thus, if we are to be righteous, we must conceive righteousness in the same terms – it is not enough to not actively sin, we must act for divine justice on earth.  It is not our righteousness that needs protecting from sin – it should be sin (or injustice in the world) than need fear our righteousness!

Addendum:  As Hank rightfully pointed out, I am not talking about how we obtain righteousness, instead I am talking about how we show our righteousness.  We are declared righteous by God through no deed nor merit on our part – but, we need to be righteous instead of trying to protect our righteousness.

Powered by WordPress Web Design by SRS Solutions © 2010 Theology for the Masses Design by SRS Solutions

Bad Behavior has blocked 358 access attempts in the last 7 days.