"Sacred Union" - photo by Trista Wynne |
I remember that when I was a young girl I had a large stuffed panda bear that remained near my bed at all times. When I felt afraid, such as when I had a bad dream, I would curl up in the soft embrace of my large panda bear; I often also brought my quilted blanket and when I was all wrapped up, a sense of security infused my being. It was a soft, warm place where I could cry or pray or look at a book, and I always was able to get back to sleep or face the rest of the day after having quiet time with my panda.
When I was preparing to go away to college and leave my childhood home, at first I thought I wouldn’t want anything from my earlier years, but when I found that my dad had brought one of my favorite stuffed animals named Kerby along for the car ride, I was quick to place it on my shelf. Truth be known, it ended up being snuggled with for the first several months that I was away from home. Gradually Kerby spent more time on the shelf than next to me, but his presence proved valuable for helping me get to sleep in a strange new place where no one and nothing was familiar.
Several years later I received a large stuffed bear for Christmas from my mother in law. It was a joyful addition to the random collection of stuffed animals that my husband and I had acquired for and from one another during our years of courtship. This large, soft bear ended up serving the role of transitional object when I could no longer hold the child I once had nannied. When I had fretful dreams where the child was out of my grasp, or where I was being pulled away from the child, I held the bear and was usually able to get back to sleep. If I came home from work and my husband was still on the clock, the bear helped the tears to flow freely. Over several weeks and even a few months, the bear served as an object of comfort and connection to the one I could no longer hold. Gradually my dependence upon this bear to sleep lessened and the nightmares dissipated. After several months, I found myself only reaching for the bear occasionally, and later, usually in moments of joy when I was remembering the child. As I gave the bear a hug, I would pray that my Lord Jesus would wrap that child in His strong arms and let that child know how much they were loved and missed from this side of eternity.
A couple of years prior to that, when I had miscarried, my mom crocheted me a prayer shawl. She made it with several strands of yarn together so that it was very soft and very warm, and I knew that she had prayed for my healing, safety and blessing with every stitch. She and I had both crocheted several prayer shawls for others, so I knew the intensity of the love that went into this blanket. Whenever I felt lonely, depressed or discouraged, I found that wrapping up in this shawl lifted my spirits and gave me comfort.
The sensation of grief leaves one feeling very cold and the brokenness on the inside of the heart feels jagged, so a blanket helps to bring warmth and softness and renews the spirit. Soft, soothing objects like teddy bears or clothing that was once worn by our loved ones provide a tangible connection to the one for whom we long, and they ease the burden of sorrow, even if only for a few moments. The respite from our grief allows us to breathe more deeply and clears our minds of the chaos that tumbles around inside.
Our Lord Jesus knew the burden of grief and separation. He wept openly when His family friend, Lazarus had died, and was deeply moved in compassion for his close friends when He knew that He was about to be betrayed and sentenced to death through a flawed justice system. Even though both of these deaths led to resurrection, Jesus knew that there was great pain in separation from our loved ones. I believe this is why we have the Lord’s Supper.
After a sacred final meal with His close friends and their families, He took bread, broke it, gave thanks and gave it for all to eat, telling them to remember His body every time they felt, cut, tasted and internalized bread together. And He shared His cup of wine, looking forward to the coming days when, as the prophets of old said, the mountains will drip with sweet wine, and the land all around us will be abundantly fruitful with justice, mercy and steadfast love and faithfulness. Whether or not we fully comprehend the meaning of this final meal, and whether we share it often or only on rare occasions, this meal gives us communion with our Lord, with each other, and with all peoples who at any time in any place have called on the name of Jesus.
This simple meal of bread and wine is for us a transitional object, serving as a connection point where the sacred and mundane all come together, where we all receive comfort, sustenance and preparation to continue along the journey of faith, proclaiming the Lord’s life, death and resurrection until the day comes when every tear will be wiped away and there will be no more pain, no more suffering, no more separation or sting of death, and all things shall be made new. The bread is soft and comforting, and the wine spreads warmth through our bellies. Our Lord meets us in this meal and the grief of this life is lifted, even as we wait the completion of the promise for renewal, peace and abundant life in eternity.
We await Your coming kingdom, Lord Jesus, and we are thankful for Your gifts of this sacred meal and of Your Holy Comforting Spirit who encourages us until we all can physically touch Your face and hear You call us each by name. While we are in this time of transition, where the human spirit, the creatures and the entire earth cry out with grief, help those of us who know the gifts found at Your table to share Your ways of peace, justice, mercy and steadfast love through our way of life and in our thoughts and words towards one another to the delight of our Father in Heaven. May we be strengthened and renewed in order that we might minister to Your world in this time of need, amen.
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