When I first started getting serious about my Unitarian Universalist faith, two seemingly contradictory but equally influential things happened. First, I started reading the writings of Transcendentalist and Unitarian minister Ralph Waldo Emerson, including his essay “The Lord’s Supper.” In this essay, Emerson explains his objections to the practice of communion. It was his refusal to preside over this sacrament that eventually drove him from the ministry. Emerson’s personal Biblical study led him to conclude that the Last Supper was a singular event in the life of Jesus and his disciples and not meant to be a model for Christian worship for the rest of time. He also believed it served as a kind of “mediator” between humans and God and he was increasingly interested in direct experience with the divine. Emerson felt that ethically, he could no longer take part in this ritual. It is a compelling essay and I was captivated by Transcendentalist thought. I loved how they pushed the boundaries of what was considered legitimate religious experience and expanded the sources of sacred knowledge to include the natural world and direct experience. And I loved that their quest to live a free, authentic, and ethical spiritual life was now a part of my religious lineage.

The second thing that happened was that I started a Bible study with some church friends that morphed into a spiritual practice of regular scripture reading. We were all taken by the Biblical passages about food. We felt called by Jesus’s exhortation to “Feed my Sheep.” We read journalist Sara Miles' fantastic memoir Take This Bread that explores her unlikely journey to church, the importance of communion to her faith, and her efforts to start a food pantry at her congregation. After reading this memoir, we went to an Ash Wednesday service together, took communion at an open table, and wept. Then we built a Free pantry onto the back of our own church. Blessing and sharing food became central to our own faith, just as it was to Jesus’s Jewish followers, to the earliest Christians, and to many people of faith throughout time.

Both of these experiences are part of my Unitarian Universalist journey, and both were transformative. It was the Transcendentalist commitment to a free and authentic faith that allowed me to come to the communion table, not out of coercion or fear, but in my own unfettered search for the divine. I still love communion. I am always profoundly moved by the ritual and presiding over it is one of the great blessings of ministry for me. And…I still love Emerson.

I tell this story, ahead of World Communion Sunday, as a way of invitation. You too are welcome to bring all of your questioning, complicated, and contradictory feelings about this practice into the sanctuary. Some of you treasure this tradition and your faith is deeply nourished by it. For others of you, this ritual brings up painful memories of exclusion and rejection from the churches of your childhood. For some of you it represents a belief system you’ve long rejected. For others, it simply feels boring and devoid of spiritual meaning. Maybe some of you have never participated in communion before and have only curiosity. I understand this service is one that not everyone will want to attend (and it is perfectly okay if you’re in that category), but if you’re feeling even a hint of openness towards it, I hope you will come.

One way of approaching our pluralist faith is to blur differences—to see all faith traditions as inherently the same. But another (and in my opinion, richer) way is to lean into the differences—to examine the specific, unique beliefs and rituals of faith traditions and search for meaning within the particularities. That’s what we’ll do on Sunday as we celebrate communion and you are invited to join. We practice an open table communion, meaning everyone who would like is invited to partake, no matter your beliefs or church membership. And, of course, you are not required to participate. You are welcome to join and observe, learn, and wonder. I only ask that you show up with curiosity and respect. Truly, all are welcome at our table as we celebrate this ancient, beautiful ritual.

In faith,
Rev. Danielle