Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

Then came the day of Unleavened Bread on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, “Go and make preparations for us to eat the Passover.”
“Where do you want us to prepare for it?” they asked.
He replied, “As you enter the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him to the house that he enters, and say to the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ He will show you a large room upstairs, all furnished. Make preparations there.”
They left and found things just as Jesus had told them. So they prepared the Passover.
When the hour came, Jesus and his apostles reclined at the table. And he said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God.”
After taking the cup, he gave thanks and said, “Take this and divide it among you. For I tell you I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.”
And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”
In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you. But the hand of him who is going to betray me is with mine on the table. The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed. But woe to that man who betrays him!” They began to question among themselves which of them it might be who would do this.

• Luke 22:7-23

I grew up with communion being once each quarter and the same six men serving it, one being my Dad.

The church where I attend at the present time has communion on special days, but it also has communion on the first Sunday of each month.  They have three times the number of elders, but they have a horrible time getting any of them to serve communion.  So, they often ask the deacons to serve it.

But I digress, and when the pastor says, “This is my body broken for you,” they are lying, but it must be what they are taught in seminary.  The whole point of the spear into Jesus’ side to find water and blood was so no bones would ever be broken.  The skin was pierced for our iniquities, but Jesus never said “broken” and his body never was.  The body died.  Again, I digress.

I went to a church not long ago. The associate pastor’s sermon was on unity.  I recently heard a video report about the Church of Scotland where there was an alarming percentage of the church that believed that Jesus never existed. How can you truly be united when the foundation of the faith is not believed to ever have existed?

But the sermon was nice and, for the moment, unifying.

Then they were about to start the process of explaining what Jesus did on the night He was betrayed, but the pastor stopped before getting into the process to announce that each tray of bread would have some plastic wrapped bread.  The bread in the plastic baggies was gluten free bread for those in the congregation that were allergic to gluten to have it without fear of a reaction.  He went on and on about how the bread was made in a wheat-free facility and the bread inside the baggie had never touched the bread outside the baggie. It sounded like he was ready the allergy alert label that is on food these days. This food was processed in a facility that does NOT process peanut, wheat, etc.

When the tray got to me, there was no plastic baggie of gluten free bread from which to choose.  My doctor had prescribed for me to be gluten free, but someone, maybe someone who was not allergic or did not have celiac disease, wanted to try gluten free communion bread.

But I was waiting for the grape juice.  I took the bread with everyone else, “in unity” as a body of believers, but I really did not think I was allergic to gluten.  I was very much allergic to grapes, especially concord grapes, the kind used to make that purple juice they put in the cups for communion.

I learned that I was allergic to grapes before they had the serum to inject under your skin for food allergies.  I learned the hard way.  I ate a couple of grapes in a fruit cup on my way to Puerto Rico to visit my sister, whose husband was stationed there in the Air Force.  My folks insisted on having the tour of San Juan right then, while my eyes were swollen shut.  I never saw San Juan or a doctor.  Then I ate some concord grapes from MawMaw’s vine in the backyard, grapes like the ones I had eaten and loved since a baby, and I threw up before we got home.  I drank a glass of concord grape juice, the only thing I had that afternoon, and my face swelled, and I threw up.  Then one day, I walked three blocks from school to get my hair cut.  Before I got home, almost two miles away, walking along the busiest street in town, my face had swollen, but, with much pain, I was able to keep my eyes open until I reached the house.  My Dad called the barber and the barber had used a fruit tonic on my hair.  The glass of concord grape juice was the clincher, since it was all I had ingested all afternoon.

Somehow, fermenting the grapes gets rid of the part of the grape that I am allergic to.  Some friends think I am allergic to the skin of the grape, but I am not willing to take that chance.

But I am willing to take communion, knowing what might happen.  I have done so for roughly fifty-five years.  When the tray comes by, I look for the tiny cup that has the least grape juice in it, and I do a lot of praying.  I usually do not drink it until the pastor has drunk from his cup.  My prayer is not that I will not get an allergic reaction.  It is a prayer of praise that God has forgiven my sins.

You see, I take communion by faith.  Faith that God has forgiven my sins, and faith that God will deal with the allergic reaction if it comes.  And over the fifty-five years, I have only gotten throat irritation and the roof of the mouth irritation a half dozen times.

I know that if I drank one or two drops more, my eyes might swell shut, and since I teach class after the worship service, that would not work out well.

So, I am not telling those with celiac disease to eat the gluten-filled bread based on faith.  But I am not going to ask the pastor to have a few cups of white wine in the tray, like I enjoyed for the three years I was in Germany in the Army (half the tray grape juice and the other half white wine).  No, that would deprive me of my test of faith each time I take communion.

After all, the Last Supper, communion, or whatever else it is called is a reminder that Jesus Christ died to save all who believe and trust in Him.  And I trust that communion grape juice will not harm me, but it will help me to remember the cost Jesus paid and the power in His blood.

Soli Deo Gloria.  Only to God be the Glory.