“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” (I Corinthians 10:16)
While the choir is singing and the Royal Doors are shut, and as I stand before the holy altar cutting the sacred Host into pieces to place them in the chalice, I worry that they will be sufficient for the multitude of communicants—and they always are. What a glorious privilege it is to be appointed distributor of the Body and Blood of Christ. I try imagining what are in the minds of all those approaching, arms crossed before their breasts, who “Receive the Body of Christ—taste the immortal fountain of life.”
How many consider what is happening? Do they take into account that this is more precious than the manna, which the Hebrews ate in the wilderness to ward off starvation? That this is just a small particle, an apertif of the feast that awaits us in God’s Kingdom: Not that then we will eat in the literal sense, but that we will imbibe gifts of spiritual illumination, bliss and the love of God for all eternity, and that this is a foretaste.
Do any of them think historically, recalling the Last Supper, the communion of the saints in periods of persecution who had at great peril to their lives took courage in their hearts and gathered together just for this reason, realizing that they would be imprisoned and worse for daring to defy their persecutors?
Do they think about it at all? Or is it merely some part of the ritual, a routine or maybe even an obligation they are doing because parents or family members expect it of them?
And for us clergy, dressed in our gorgeous regalia, taking for granted the freedoms we Americans assume as our right as citizens—do we appreciate what our fathers in the faith had endured in ages past? I think of the cathedral in Kiev in the harshest years of Communist oppression. In order to keep the temple alive, or working, as they used to say, twenty brave laypersons had to risk all to offer their names as those who desired to pray in the House of God, the famous rule of dvadsat’ka. And of course priests were needed in order to celebrate the Divine Liturgy. Each Sunday morning the courageous ones would assemble in the presence of spies from the government. At the appointed time, one man in ordinary street clothing would come forth, make the proper obeisance before the icon screen, enter and venerate the holy altar table, don the vestments of priesthood and celebrate the Holy Liturgy, knowing all the while that when it was concluded, he would be whisked away to prison for his boldness.
And I wonder as well how many understand that we are taking divinity into our bodies, as well as bonding ourselves with one another into a fellowship of faith, hope and love. We cannot look upon our fellow communicants as mere ordinary people—we are a communion like the holy apostles, with them and all those who are across the globe taking part in the Divine Liturgy, along with those who have gone before us to their rest.
These are just a few of the spiritual realities we might be considering as we stand on the aisle leading to the altar waiting for our turn to “taste and see how good the Lord is.”