“The Church Has Bread” by The Rev. Kaji Douša

“Jesus went out and saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at his booth. ‘Follow me,’ he said. Levi got up and followed him. Then Levi held a great banquet for Jesus at his house…”—Luke 5:27-29 (NIV)

I find only three instances in scripture when Jesus hosts a meal—the improvised feeding of the multitudes, the members-only Last Supper, and the post-resurrection breakfast for a handful of frustrated fishermen.

Other than that, Jesus doesn’t host anyone at his table. He doesn’t have a table. He’s always at someone else’s. Tax collectors like Levi and Zacchaeus throw him banquets. Pharisees, too. Peter’s wife feeds him. And Martha, in Bethany. Jesus doesn’t invite: he gets invited.

So when we say we welcome everyone to the church’s table because Jesus welcomed everyone to his, we’re on shaky evidentiary ground. Which doesn’t argue for exclusion. It only suggests that Jesus may present a challenge to us not so much because he was a gracious host, but because he was a willing guest.

If our churches aren’t very inclusive, it might be because too many of us have mistaken ourselves for the Giver of the Feast. We’re not hosts extending invitations. We’re guests among guests. Yet we behave as if having arrived earlier than others has given us proprietary rights over the hall. Which means we haven’t yet pondered deeply enough the Mercy by which we all got in here in the first place.

Our churches will more closely resemble God’s all-embracing realm when we relinquish our sense of entitlement to them, cease welcoming others as if there’s no such a thing as others, stop playing munificent hosts, and learn to be good guests.

Christ of food and every pleasure,
you have longed to eat this feast!
Now we’re gathered here together,
high and mighty, low and least,
to receive your joy unmeasured
and to make your joy complete.

No one owns this great partaking,
no one’s higher than the rest;
every privilege here forsaking,
even you, O Christ, a guest:
all are one in Love’s inbreaking
at this table manifest.
.
In this circle of God’s dreaming
boundless welcome comes to earth.
Free of coveting and scheming,
free of worried rank and worth,
guests alike here, glad and gleaming,
eat and drink to our rebirth.

“The disciples said, ‘Send the crowds away, so they can go buy themselves some food.’ Jesus replied, ‘You give them something to eat.’” – Matthew 14:13-16

It used to be that if you didn’t understand it, weren’t baptized, didn’t believe correctly, or weren’t morally pure, you were barred from Communion. It was called “fencing the table.” Everybody did it.

But these days some churches are unfencing. Completely. They say Jesus never turned anyone away from his table, so neither should we.

Never mind that Jesus was always a guest with no table of his own to welcome anyone to. Or that early on, the church began emphatically excluding notorious sinners, the unbaptized, and heretics. Or that the church has consistently taught that Communion is for members. Only.

We’re opening our tables anyway, even ‘though we’ve never done it this way before. And now many people once ruled out are coming. Little kids, unbaptized adults, intellectually disabled people, the weary, the sin-sick, the doubting, the curious—they’re all coming.

Because they want it, this gift they can’t explain, don’t believe in correctly, or were told they don’t deserve. They want it, this company for their loneliness, this healing for their estrangement, this home for their wandering, this approval for their very beings. This pardon. This love. This memory. This meeting. This mercy. This food.

Above all, this food. For a bottomless hunger.

And the church that’s always needed to have all its theological ducks in a row before budging an inch; the church that’s always gone to the wall for its beliefs and put others up against the wall for theirs; this obtuse yet still teachable church is finally starting to obey Jesus: “You give them something to eat.”

There is so much hunger.

The church has bread.

Open Table

You don’t have to be perfect
You don’t have to be pure
You don’t have to be righteous
You don’t have to be sure
You just need to be hungry
You just need to be fed
You just need heaven’s manna 
You need to need the Bread

So Jesus says, Come eat here,
whoever you may be
His bread is for the taking
for you, and even me
No questions will be asked here
no test will be applied
The only thing you need is
a need to satisfy

You don’t have to give answers
You don’t have to impress
You don’t have to be certain
You don’t have to confess
You just need to be thirsty
You just need filling up
You just need heaven’s fountain
You need to need the Cup 

So Jesus says, Come drink here,
whoever you may be
His cup is for the taking
for you, and even me
No questions will be asked here
no test will be applied
The only thing you need is
a need to satisfy