A Bigger Table
Dear Friends,
There have been a few raging debates in the Episcopal Church for a number of years now about who should receive communion. One had to do with whether children should receive before confirmation. For the most part, the Church has said yes.
Another debate has to do with whether those who haven't been baptized should be invited to receive. I realize that I'm in contentious waters here, and that Facebook notes and email announcements might not be the best places for deep theological debate. So, what I'll say here is, the canons (the official rules) of the Episcopal Church say that folks should be baptized before receiving communion, and that makes sense to me, though you'll never catch me asking to see baptismal certificates at the altar rail. If you are interested in this discussion, I have THOUGHTS, so feel free to talk to me in person.
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I've often wondered, though, why this debate is so important to us. And in my more cynical moments, I've wondered whether we use that argument to let ourselves off the hook about understanding welcome in a broader way.
Frankly, it is easy to welcome people to the communion table. We could put a nice note in the bulletin, as some churches do, saying all are welcome to receive no matter what. And then that's that. Welcome—accomplished!
And yet, it would be possible for someone to go to a church, be enthusiastically welcomed to the altar, and leave feeling completely un-welcomed by the church. Because it takes more than a nice note in the bulletin to make a guest feel welcome. It takes a handshake, an introduction, a walk across the room to get to know someone better. It takes the vulnerability of meeting someone new. It takes work that is hard and pulls many of us out of our comfort zones, but it is absolutely essential work if we are to be a community of welcome.
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I walk my daughter to her classroom in our school every morning. One of my favorite parts is seeing the projects hanging in the halls. One morning this week, I noticed the kindergarten Spanish immersion class had made big posters depicting different parts of the school: "la biblioteca" (the library), "patio de recreo" (the playground), and "el comedor" (the dining hall).
The dining hall stuck with me. The way the kindergartners decided to depict it was with a massive table in the middle. I didn't count the seats, but there were at least a couple dozen. I could imagine the conversation that must've led to the table shown that way: "Well, we need room for the whole class, and for my parents, and for our teachers, and for ..." The list went on and on.
Because they understood something we tend to forget: A true community, a community of welcome, is one that has room for more at the table, and not just the communion table. Room at our fellowship tables. Room at our lunch tables. Room at all kinds of tables. How are we, the people of St. Peter's, continuing to make room for the new people in our midst, the new guests at our table, the new friends God is calling to join us?
God bless,
Fr. Quinn+