The Grace We Can Taste: A Reflection on the Eucharist

Naming the Meal

The Eucharist. The Lord's Supper. Communion. Whatever your tradition calls it, this meal sits at the very heart of Christian practice. And perhaps, because of that centrality, it has sparked centuries of debate. Are we consuming the literal flesh and blood of Christ when we eat and drink? Or are we engaging a profound symbol that simply points back to an event two thousand years ago?

Between Literal and Symbolic

Is there space, maybe, to imagine something in between? A sacred middle where Jesus is truly present, even as we handle ordinary elements like bread and grape? Might that blend of the mundane and the divine be the most profound part of it all?

Because if this is where illusions are stripped away—if this is where we meet Jesus directly, without pretense—then the evocative language starts to make sense. "This is my body, broken for you. This is my blood, poured out." Something very real is happening here.

History and Mystery

Throughout church history, interpretations have varied widely. Our Catholic siblings speak of transubstantiation—the idea that the bread and wine become, in an undetectable but real way, the actual body and blood of Christ. Our Baptist friends might lean toward symbolism, viewing the table as a signpost pointing back to Jesus.

Both have their place, and honestly? That's okay. I'm not interested in policing the boundaries of this sacred meal. The table existed long before our debates about it—and maybe it should stay that way.

A Middle Way: Real Presence

At Commons, we find ourselves in that sacred middle, often referred to as real presence. In our tradition, we call the table a means of grace. What that means, simply, is that Christ is somehow, mysteriously, actually present every time we gather to eat.

Now, if the word mystery feels like a theological copout, I get that. Sometimes mystery is a stand-in for "I don't know." But in this case, I think it really is the best language we have. Because last week, as we stood in line to receive—some trusting, some just wanting to trust in resurrection—I believe Christ was there with us.

Taste and See

I believe you can actually taste the spirit of Jesus when you eat at his table. That is not just ritual. It's not just memory. And it is certainly not the same as sitting in your bedroom with crackers and grape juice alone. That may be sincere, but it is not the full gift of God.

The good gift is all of us, gathered. Our illusions undone. Our failures forgiven. Sitting or standing beside those who don't believe the same things we do—and yet are welcomed just the same.

Resurrection has been set loose in the world.

That is grace. And we can taste it.