World Communion Sunday is—on many levels—a great idea. Those who created it had very good intentions. It came about in 1934, and the Nazis were beginning to flex their muscles in Europe and the church was experiencing some chaos, and so Christians (particularly Protestants) were trying to hold the world together. World Wide Communion symbolized the effort to hold things together, in a spiritual sense. It emphasized the idea that we are one in Jesus Christ. Since then, especially lately, things have—in my opinion—gone downhill in at least three ways.
First, observing something called “World Communion Sunday” one day of the year send the message that the idea that the Eucharist is special. But if Holy Communion really is the Church’s signature rite (along with Baptism), if it is indeed that which makes the Church what it is, then “special” is exactly what it is not. We don’t think of the air we breathe as “special,” the meals/snacks we eat as “special.” These things are gifts, of course—breath and food—but it’s in their givenness, their ordinariness that they’re the means for life and health. I often make the point that we buy the elements at Publix and that there is nothing inherently “special” about them..
Second, observing something called “World Communion Sunday” one day of the year suggests that the Eucharist is our achievement; that is, human achievement. To the contrary: Ordinary food—bread and juice—become the extraordinary gifts of God (for the people of God) through a power not our own. Our only task is to receive these gifts and share them. I have no power to “bless” them—make them holy—only God can do that. I only preside at the table, but it’s not my table: I am not the host, Jesus is. When we gather, we learn what it means to be a people for whom the whole of our life together is one colossal unearned gift, which is to say, grace.
Third, observing something called “World Communion Sunday” one day of the year ignores, quite unintentionally, the world—the world, quite specifically, of injustice and oppression, of domination and exploitation. Pope John Paul II once said that the Eucharist is always celebrated “on the altar of the world.” Jesus’ suffering is our link to a suffering world. All of creation is caught up in the moment of Eucharist, which means thanksgiving. Understanding this, our task then is to love this world—this suffering world—not any other world. The world as it is, not as we wish it will be.
We can look forward to the renewal of all creation, certainly. We should. It’s our ultimate hope, the merging of heaven and earth, God dwelling with his people. Until them, we have work to do. We have a responsibility to those who suffer to care for them; to break our hearts for what breaks God’s. World Communion Sunday is a reminder of our oneness with Christ and our communion with those He called “the least of these.”