It is said that Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, who himself died a martyrs death, always devoted his last moments with Christian disciples about to be martyred to the celebration of the Lord's Supper. At the conclusion of the sacred rite he regularly dismissed his doomed friends with this valedictory: "Now you are strengthened for torture. Depart in the name of God. This food will sustain you so completely that you can endure all martyrdom and suffering for Jesus' sake with patience and rejoicing."
If only for the brunt of battle against the flesh and for victory over temptation young people would find reserve courage and heavenly power in this purifying Sacrament! We lament the neglect of our acres of diamonds, those close, intimate opportunities of life, which are heedlessly sacrificed in the pursuit of some distant will-o'-the-wisp; but Christian short-sightedness never appears more glaring than in the disregard of the sacramental blessings. We read of shipwrecked passengers who drown though life-belts are attached to their bodies; of airplane pilots who crash to terrifying destruction with the ripcord of their unopened parachutes clutched in fear-frozen grip; of derelicts who die of thirst and starvation only a few feet from stores of nourishment and water. Yet all these pictures of defeat with victory at close reach are not as tragic as the frequent surrender to besetting forces of impurity while the sustaining Sacrament, as close to us as our altars, remains ignored or neglected.
In the first Church, when men were almost nineteen centuries closer to the impress of our Savior, the Lord's Supper was more thoroughly esteemed in its essential benediction upon Christian life than it is today. We remember the record that the three thousand souls, the harvest of the first Pentecost, "continued steadfastly in the apostles' doctrine and fellowship and in breaking of bread" (Acts 2:42); and to emphasize their reverent regard for the sacred Supper, Luke records that they continued "daily with one accord in the Temple, ... breaking bread from house to house" (v. 46). In the face of divergent interpretation these passages seem to imply that the faith of the first converts found daily strength in the grace and power conveyed by the Sacrament.
From documents of the first and second Christian centuries we learn that the Lord's Supper was commemorated every Sunday. As we read these ancient records, we are impressed with the joy and simplicity that marked the Eucharist in those cradle days of Christianity. Those early Christians were eager to receive the seal of the forgiveness of their sins every time they heard the preaching of the Gospel.
This emphasis on the sacramental grace helps to explain the astonishing loyalty, the thrilling fortitude, the exemplary purity, that marked the conquests of the first Church. Their faith deepened by Word and Sacrament, their lives hallowed, after baptism, by Scripture and reinforced by the Lord's Supper, the members of those first congregations, in spite of evident weaknesses, often attained to a spiritual life that challenges the best and noblest of our age. If we seek an explanation for our dwarfed Christian zeal, the readiness to compromise with the reigning spirit of carnal indifference, must we not discover an element of this decline in the disregard of the Lord's Supper, in the neglect of sacramental grace, or the unworthy eating and drinking of the body and blood of Christ?
The profound holiness of the Sacrament serves to emphasize the far-reaching hazards of its neglect and abuse; for Holy Communion is a sacred rite instituted by Christ Himself. On the night of the Passover festival, commemorating the exodus from Egyptian bondage, the slaying of the paschal lamb in every Israelite home and the sprinkling of its blood on the lintel of every Israelite door, Jesus instituted this Sacrament of the New Testament, which was to offer deliverance incomparably greater than that release from Egypt by the hand of the avenging angel of death. In an upper room at Jerusalem, that unmarked sanctuary which will forever be enshrined in the reverent memory of His followers, our Savior gathered His disciples for the Last Supper and their first Communion, the sacred meal to be perpetuated through long and aging centuries. Dark presagings agitated His soul. On that last, fateful night of His earthly life, while His intimates and followers were wrangling for future honors, Jesus, anticipating the crushing nature of His Passion, the God-forsakenness of His crucifixion, and the black agony of His death, prepared His legacy to the Church. In this hush of foreboding death He takes the bread on the table before Him, pronounces a benediction, breaks it, and passes it to His disciples with the startling announcement: "Take, eat; this is My body.” A moment later He lifts a goblet filled with wine, offers a prayer, and passes it from one disciple to the other as He speaks these solemn words: "Drink ye all of it; this is My blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins."
Bitter disputes have been waged over the interpretation of these short words. Contradictory opinions have split the Christian Church into opposing factions, torn Protestantism apart, and divided families. Yet the words of Christ in this hallowed valedictory of His last hours with His disciples are clear and pointed. They tell us that in this hour of leave-taking our Savior gave to His disciples, and through them to His Church, not merely a beautiful ceremony or a memorial ritual, not simply bread and wine as a symbol or reminder of His body and blood; they assure us rather that with earthly elements, bread and wine. He bequeathed His body and His blood "for the remission of sins."
Do unbelieving minds ask, "How can these things be?" Have logical, analytical churchmen risen up to deny the literal force and the effectiveness of this divine legacy? How tragic if the truths of life were conditioned by our limited powers of perception! A thousand miracles that beggar all attempts at explanation surround us on every path of life; yet we regard them as commonplaces. If unbelief challenges, "Explain this Sacrament, and we will accept it," we can counter, "Explain any spiritual mystery of life if you can. Or, descending to physical phenomena, explain the growth of the seed and the flower. Prove our own personal existence. Account intelligibly for the precision of the stars or, as the Savior Himself challenged, for the movement of the winds." If in all these verities of life we are confronted by inexplicable mysteries, should we not even more readily accept the impenetrable truth of God in the spiritual domain? Above the contradictions of short-sighted doubt and unbelief the serene voice of our Savior calls out to soothe a fretful world: "Marvel not; only believe." And the answer of trusting faith echoes, "We believe. Lord, that here in this Sacrament we have Thy body and blood, not in a physical, comprehensible, tangible manner, but in the spiritual mystery of this Sacrament." As four separate and distinct accounts of the Scriptures assure us, every time we approach the altar for this sacred rite, we receive, above all power of penetration, that most sacred bestowal — Christ's own divine body and His holy blood. In the full confidence of faith, how trivial are all the repeated denials of the Real Presence!
Our acceptance of the sacramental gift that brings Christ to us must be complete and fervent; for this spiritual cleansing does what all the chlorides, alkalis, and antiseptics cannot do: it removes the stain of guilt and seals the forgiveness of these sins. The implicit, unreserved trust in the Saviors promise that this Sacrament is "for the remission of sins," takes away the curse of unforgiven iniquities from our lives and permits us to depart from His table strengthened and preserved in our faith, and with a benediction of divine peace.
But the Lord's Supper is not only the seal of removed iniquity, it is also the pledge for a sanctified life. Luther exults: "In the Sacrament forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation are given us ...; for where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation." Whenever Christ is united with us in the mystery of this sacramental union, the divine energy within us, the heavenly incentive to the purer, finer life, is strengthened. Too often the Sacrament is associated with death, though its potency is never stronger than in an active, achieving life. Too often it is reserved for beds of sickness and dying hours, while it should be a constant help in the healthiest and happiest lives.
Those who willfully despise the Sacrament are never noteworthy for their exemplary lives or for the excellency of their character. Yet those who take God at His word and in grateful faith receive the cleansing, strengthening power of this Sacrament, feel the demonstration of its efficacy in their own lives. The truest and purest lives have been fortified by the cleansing Sacrament; and today the Church promises its young people the approach to the God-pleasing higher levels of life through frequent and worshipful partaking of the Sacrament. Pastors tell us that the record of attendance at the Lord's Table is often a barometer of spirituality. Show us the clean, happy young woman who commands the respect of every one in the congregation or the young man whose straightforwardness is outstanding, and we shall be able to show you young people who know and experience the blessing of the Sacrament. But go to the outer fringe of the Church, where the line dividing the congregation and the Christless world fades away uncertainly, and there you will find the majority of those who come to Communion once a year.
The sacredness of the Sacrament must be recognized in the worshipful preparation for its blessing. The free-and-easy attitude toward sacramental religion has often helped to relegate Communion to the commonplaces of life. The guides for Holy Communion which fifty years ago were conscientiously studied before the approach to the Lord's Table and the questions of self-examination which listed the transgressions of the Ten Commandments with the intent of recalling all sins, — these spiritual precommunion examinations are often neglected. Time was when those who would partake of the Sacrament found opportunity for private, spiritual discussion with their pastor; when Saturday night and Sunday morning were set aside as hours of personal preparation; when breakfast was omitted before the Sacrament; when even the dress of the communicants conformed to the solemn occasion. It may be that the sincerity of our young people, even without this external preparation, is just as strong and genuine as it was in the last century; but those who can trace modern trends will devoutly wish for at least a partial reemphasis of these time-honored preparations for the holy Sacrament.
Above all these externals there must be in the heart of every communicant the prime and essential requisite — faith. Only unbelief and impenitence disqualify us from receiving the blessing of the Lord's Supper, and those who take the Sacrament in unbelief blaspheme the holy Christ. St. Paul's words ring out in clear-cut warning: "He that eateth and drinketh unworthily eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord's body" (1 Cor. 11; 29). But he who knows the precious ransom and redemption of his soul, who is conscious of his own sin and unworthiness, repentant of his weakness and shortcomings, but resolved with the help of the Holy Spirit to amend his ways and to live the clean, Christian life, receives in this Sacrament Heaven's strength for earth's conflicts.
The attack that unbelief has directed against the Sacrament should call forth a higher appreciation of its sacred power. Atheists have stooped to satanic depths, forcing animals to partake of the sacramental elements as mock clergymen read the Savior's words of institution. Clerical apostates have advertised Communion services with soda water or have officiated at sacrilegious rites over the radio. Almost three hundred and fifty million worshipers have had the cup of which Jesus said, "Drink ye all of it," removed from them by spiritual tyranny. In large Protestant denominations sacramental blessings are accorded only incidental regard, and then fundamentally misinterpreted, as men have followed human reason rather than divine revelation. In our own circles we behold evidences of that spiritual lukewarmness toward the Lord's Supper which St. Paul reproved among the Corinthians.
In the face of this ridicule the young men and young women of the Church are asked to show the reverence which the holiness of the Sacrament should inspire. When Frederick the Great, royal scoffer and imperial cynic that he was, invited his field-marshal, General von Ziethen, to a diplomatic dinner on Good Friday, this veteran of many campaigns asked for permission to decline the invitation, explaining that it had been his custom to partake of Holy Communion on Good Friday and to spend the day in meditation upon his Savior's suffering. At the next dinner, when von Ziethen appeared at Sans Souci, his monarch's first words sarcastically demanded, "Well, Ziethen, how did you fare with your Communion on Good Friday?" a taunt that provoked the smiles of the royal guests. Imperturbed, the field-marshal shook his gray head, bowed respectfully before Frederick, and then with a firm voice spoke these words: "Your Majesty knows that I have never feared any danger on the battle-field or at any other place where the situation demanded that I risk my life for you and for my country. This resolution guides me even now. But there is One above us who is greater than you and I, stronger than all men. He is the Savior and the Redeemer of the world, who died for you and who has redeemed all of us with His precious blood. I will not permit this Holy One to be violated or ridiculed; for my faith, my comfort, my hope in life and death, rests upon Him." Frederick was visibly moved by this heroic confession. He rose, offered von Ziethen his right hand, put the left on his shoulder, and declared: "Happy Ziethen! Oh, that I could believe as you do! I have every respect for your faith. Hold it fast. This will never happen again."
The ridicule that may surround us will die away, too, if our devotion to Christ and our loyalty to the Sacrament is expressed in open and unreserved acknowledgment. We are not called upon to justify the Sacrament, and we owe no one an apology for our faith in its power. Confidently believing that in this sacred act we are granted a means of purifying grace, how can we more genuinely express our heart's gratitude to our Savior for cleansing than by praying for a larger appreciation of this sacramental grace, frequently accepting its benedictions upon our lives?