A Meal for Our Eyes (1 Corinthians 11.17-34)
In 2016, a woman named Wanda Dench texted an invitation to her family’s thanksgiving dinner to a wrong number. Instead of sending it to a friend, she accidentally sent it to 16-year-old Jamal Hinton, whom she had never met. This is how the text chain went:
I remember hearing about this story when it first happened, ten years ago. I’ve been following it ever since.
Jamal was joking when he asked for a plate, but when Wanda actually invited him to her house for Thanksgiving, he came. He posted their texts online with the photo of them together at Thanksgiving, and it went viral. The two became very close. With the exception of a single Thanksgivings when they couldn’t be together, they have celebrated Thanksgiving together every year since; they’re like family.
The relationship between Wanda and Jamal went viral because it feels good to see one human being look at someone she doesn’t know, and see not an inconvenience or a funny story to tell, but another human being. It feels good to see someone who may not seem to have anything in common with someone else, but who is able to discern that they have more in common than they may think.
I have no idea if Wanda Dench is a Christian. But what she did for Jamal displayed something that the Corinthians didn’t seem to understand.
What Paul says in this passage can seem like a bit of a departure from what we saw last week, but it’s really not. If you remember, in last week’s text, Paul accented the differences between members in the church (namely, the differences between men and women) and insisted on the importance of highlighting these differences, for the glory of God.
In this week’s text, he’s going to focus on the other side of that subject. He’s going to accent the unity of the church, in the midst of our differences. And here, the difference isn’t between men and women, but between rich and poor.
This passage has a weight that many others do not, because Paul so explicitly brings Christ’s sacrifice into play. And we can see that he has been building toward this subject for several chapters now. He began this letter by talking about divisions in the church (1.10-17); about the jealousy and rivalry in the church that displayed the Corinthians’ immaturity (3.1-9); about believers pursuing worldly justice against one another (6.1-8); about the dangers of freedom without love (ch. 8-10)…
And now, Paul arrives at the most visible contradiction in the Corinthian church. Not necessarily the most dramatic, not necessarily the sin with the most painful consequences—but the most clearly and blatantly visible.
I. Coming Together for the Worse (v. 17–22)
17 But in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse.
That is a devastating statement. Imagine a church service so distorted that Paul says: You would have been spiritually better off staying home.
The question is why: what was happening in the Corinthian church gatherings that was so bad Paul could say something like that? V. 18:
18 For, in the first place, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you. And I believe it in part, 19 for there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized. 20 When you come together, it is not the Lord’s supper that you eat. 21 For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal. One goes hungry, another gets drunk. 22 What! Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I commend you in this? No, I will not.
A bit of context would probably be helpful here. If you’ve been coming here for a while, you know that after every service, we set out tables and we have lunch together. Imagine if, instead of waiting until after service to eat, we set out tables at the beginning, and we had our entire service—songs, sermon, Communion, everything—during the meal.
That’s a great idea, and that’s essentially what the early church did. We see a glimpse of it at the end of Acts chapter 2:
42 And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. 43 And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. 44 And all who believed were together and had all things in common. 45 And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. 46 And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, 47 praising God and having favor with all the people.
That’s a picture of what the early church was like: everyone would come together to eat and drink, they would listen to the teaching of the apostles, they would share their belongings with one another so that no one was in need.
But that’s not what was happening in the church in Corinth. In Corinth, everyone did what we do here at Connexion: they’d bring a lunch. What happens if, while we’re eating lunch together, one of us has a lot of food, and the person sitting next to us doesn’t have anything? We quite naturally say, “Do you want some?”
Instead, the rich Corinthians—who had lots to eat—would start eating early, and eat quickly, so they wouldn’t have to share with the poor Christians who didn’t have anything to eat. One goes hungry while another gets drunk, Paul says.
Now the problem, as Paul will say a little later on, isn’t the fact that some Christians are rich and others are poor. That happens—that’s part of life, and it’s not a bad thing that some have more material wealth than others. The problem was that the church gathering in Corinth had become a visible reenactment of the sort of social hierarchy that existed outside of the church.
You see, the problem wasn’t just excess; the problem was contempt. V. 22: “Do you despise the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing?”
The church belongs to God. To humiliate believers is to despise what God himself purchased. And instead of honoring those whom God had saved, the Corinthians had imported the values of Corinth into the church.
It’s the same mindset Paul has been confronting since the beginning of this letter:
• pride,
• status,
• self-assertion,
• “my rights,”
• worldly definitions of greatness.
Churches still do this today. Churches still bring worldly systems of value into the people of God.
Some believers are welcomed while others are left alone. Some believers are neglected while others occupy a lot of space. Some believers come to church like it’s a place for networking. Some believers will gravitate toward people who seem “easy,” and away from people who seem needy. Churches will still, even unintentionally, nourish loneliness within the body of Christ, rather than seeking to make sure every member is cared for. Churches still, far too often, give the impression that church is for “good people”—those who struggle need not apply.
A church can preach grace to all, while actually extending grace to only a few.
And that is the polar opposite of the gospel that we claim to believe.
II. Coming Together the Right Way (v. 23–26)
Here is the gospel we believe, summed up in a sacrament. V. 23:
23 For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, 24 and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 25 In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
If you’ve been to Connexion before, you’ve heard these verses; we recite it every Sunday before we take Communion. And there’s a reason.
Obviously, this act that Christ commands is a sort of visual representation and participation in the gospel. The bread represents Christ’s body, the cup represents his blood. When we take the elements we remember that the Son of God took on flesh, took on a body and blood, and that he lived a sinless life in our place, took our sin on himself, allowed his body to be broken and his blood to be shed on the cross, so that we might live. We take these elements, and we remember what he did.
If that’s all we say about this moment, it almost immediately becomes a personal moment—a moment between me and God. Because of course I’m remembering; you can’t remember something for me.
But the context of this passage is crucial, because it makes it incredibly obvious that this isn’t just a personal moment between me and God; it can’t be, because we take it together, and Paul reminds us of Jesus’s words, why? Because the Corinthians are forgetting what it means to come together.
We see it very clearly in v. 26: For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
When we take Communion, we always say that this is an act for believers. Paul says that when we eat the bread and drink the cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death. To whom are we proclaiming it? We’re not proclaiming it to unbelievers, because this happens during the church gathering. We’re proclaiming Christ’s death to one another. We’re reminding one another that yes, Christ died for me…but he also died for you. He died for us. “This is my body, broken for you”, plural.
It should be a shame-inducing comparison for the Corinthians. Christ sacrifices himself for those who couldn’t save themselves; he establishes a new covenant with them, which will never expire; he gives them unmerited grace. The Corinthians are selfish; they feed divisions; they pride themselves on status; and they humiliate one another.
They are giving visual evidence of their division, by having some people stuffed senseless with food, while they sit next to people in the church who are going hungry. But the Lord’s Supper is a visual representation of the fact the old divisions between us have been destroyed. Christ died for us, we are united to him, which means that necessarily, we are united to each other.
The kingdom of self is over.
And as we see next, living out of step with that reality is a serious matter.
III. How to Take Communion (vv.27–32)
V. 27:
Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord.
This is a terrifying verse to a lot of people, because our eyes instantly go to the word “unworthy.”
When I see that word, my immediate reflex is to feel unworthy—because I am. I’m unworthy to be united to Christ. I’m unworthy to be saved and forgiven by his sacrifice. I am unworthy.
This is particularly difficult when you’ve had a bad week. Say you’ve struggled with a recurring sin in a particularly violent way this week, and you failed. Or you lost your temper with your kids this morning before coming here, and you’re still feeling the weight of that conversation. Or you’re just feeling really low, seeing everything about yourself that isn’t right, that isn’t good, that still needs work.
When you come to church like that, you feelunworthy. Taking Communion can feel like a condemnation, because it puts you directly in front of what your sin cost Jesus Christ.
But we need to pay close attention to what Paul says. He does not say, “Whoever is unworthy to eat the bread and drink the cup.” He doesn’t say that because all of us are unworthy; even Paul himself is unworthy. No—he says, “Who ever eats and drinks in an unworthy manner.” That’s very different.
So what does it mean? He tells us in v. 29:
29 For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself.
That’s the first thing we need to see: when we come together to take Communion, the first thing we must do is discern the body. Taking Communion in an unworthy manner means taking Communion without discerning the body.
But what does that mean? What body are we supposed to discern? It would be easy to go straight to “the body of Christ,” because that’s what Jesus said to his disciples: “This is my body, which is for you.”
But that’s not the only “body” Paul has in mind here. We know this in two main ways.
The first way, we see in the previous chapter. In chapter 10.16-17, Paul says this:
16 The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? 17 Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.
We saw this a few weeks ago. When we take Communion together, we show that we are participating in what Christ did, in the sense that we are receiving it. The bread is a participation in the body of Christ. And since we all take the bread together, we all participate in the same body of Christ together. Which means that we are united, not only to Christ, but to one another. All of us who participate in his salvation are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.
Now take that idea and go back over everything he’s been saying in this passage.
He’s telling the Corinthians, “You are united to one another by faith in Christ, and when you take Communion together, you’re displaying that unity. Or rather, that’s what you should be doing. Instead, your actions around Communion show the exact opposite. They show division and hostility and selfishness.
So in the context of this passage, eating and drinking without discerning the body means eating the bread and drinking the cup without discerning the body of Christ—the church! If you are claiming union to Christ by eating the bread that represents his body, then you must necessarily recognize that the other people sharing this Communion with you are also united to him!
And the Corinthians weren’t recognizing that.
Imagine if a family came together for a meal, but the father consistently took food out of his kids’ plate and put it on his own. When the kids ask why, the dad says, “Well you didn’t work for this food. You didn’t earn it. It’s my food.” If a father acted this way, especially if it was consistent and not a joke, it would be child abuse; it would be punishable by law. It’s a big deal.
There is no law against rich Christians looking down on poor Christians and not sharing with them. But God has standards of holiness that a human court does not, and he will sometimes exercise discipline on his people to help them understand the gravity of what they’re doing.
That’s what Paul says is happening to the Corinthians—something they may not have realized until now. He says (v. 30),
That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died.
I know there was a lot of questioning in home groups this week about this part of the text, which is understandable. The idea that God might allow someone to get ill because of sin in their life is scary. But we need to pay close attention to the intention. V. 32:
But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.
So God’s goal in allowing this sickness to come on the Corinthians isn’t punishment; it’s correction. Even those who have died—in Greek the word Paul uses is “fallen asleep”, which is the consistent way the New Testament speaks of the death of believers who go to be with Christ. So he’s not talking about condemnation. He’s allowing this situation for their good, to wake them up. That’s the second thing we see: When we take Communion, we are to accept the correction of the Lord.
This is hard to accept, but it is an inarguable truth of the Bible. Hebrews 12 tells us the same thing. God does not punish his children in a definitive way, but he does discipline us—and thank goodness for that. His goal is not our comfort, but our good. His goal is not to keep us happy and relaxed, but to make us holy.
The reason why it’s so important to see this component is because many of us won’t even put two and two together. We’ll be going through a hard time—something in our life is going wrong and we’re just miserable—and we’ll ask God why he could possibly be allowing this. And it won’t ever occur to us to wonder whether God might be using this situation to lift our eyes to him. Not in a way that says, “You see? If you hadn’t lied to your landlord about the rent, you wouldn’t be sick right now,” but in a way that shows you that you can’t save yourself.
God uses painful situations in our lives to help us see that we are all in need. We all come to the table hungry. We all come empty-handed. We all need him to fill us up.
So how incoherent is it to come to the table as if I were more deserving to be here than anyone else? as if I were less needy than anyone else?
So we need to be really careful when we interpret our circumstances. If we are Christians, we should not be asking, “Is this situation a punishment?” The answer to that question is always no—we are guilty, but we are not punished, because Christ was punished for us, in our place. He may be disciplining us, so that we may not be condemned along with the world, but it’s not a punishment.
But the question we should be asking is, “What is God trying to teach me through this situation? What need am I ignoring that only he can fill?”
That’s a really hard question to answer, which is why Paul tells the Corinthians that it’s going to require a real effort. We see the third thing in v. 28: when we take Communion, Paul wants us to honestly examine ourselves and to see what is out of line with the gospel.
Often what happens when we do this is…well, what we described earlier. We examine ourselves, we see our sin, and we feel unworthy. And so naturally, what do we do? We let the bread and the cup pass us by; we think, “I’ll take it next time, when I’ve got my life more together.”
But that’s not the goal, and Paul never tells us to do that. What does he say in v. 28?
Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup.
I don’t know if you heard it, but this is mind-blowing. An honest self-examination will show me everything I’m doing wrong, every reason why I don’t deserve to take the bread and the cup. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup.
Communion is not for perfect people; it is for repentant people. That’s the fourth thing. When we take Communion, it is not an act by which the “good Christians” are pushed forward while the “bad Christians” hang back. When we take Communion, it is a call to repent. There is only one reason why a Christian should not participate in Communion, and that is if they are living with continual, unrepentant sin. Paul calls us to examine ourselves, because such an examination will drive a Christian, not to retreat, but to repentance.
And a repentant sinner is exactly what a Christian is. No one in the history of the church has ever been more than that: a repentant sinner, saved by grace, declared righteous because of the broken body and shed blood of Jesus Christ.
IV. A Community that Displays the gospel (v. 33–34)
Now again, the sin in question in this text is the sin of division. And now those Corinthians who are guilty of this sin will be easy to identify, as he said in v. 19: they’ll be the ones getting full and drunk while their poor brothers and sisters go hungry. They’ll be the ones making efforts to exclude others.
We need to know that no church will ever get this completely right. In every church, there will be some people who sort of remain “on the outside”. There is no foolproof way to make sure no one falls through the cracks, especially as the church gets larger. There will always be things we just won’t be able to see.
The question isn’t, Are we perfect in this regard? but rather, What efforts are we making to not just SPEAK the gospel, but SHOW the gospel in our church community? What can we do when we gather together, to make it clear that we truly are united to one another in Christ?
The way Paul ends this chapter is, for me, very freeing. He doesn’t set up a complex program for roll-keeping or organization that will make sure everyone is included. He gives a very simple, very ordinary instruction.
V. 33:
33 So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for one another— 34 if anyone is hungry, let him eat at home—so that when you come together it will not be for judgment.
We need to see that Paul isn’t just talking about timing here: he’s not telling the rich people, “Wait till the poor folks get there, and then eat all you want and don’t share with them.” The word “wait” in v. 33 can also mean, “welcome” one another, or “receive” one another.
Discern the body, and care for your brothers and sisters, rich or poor, as you would a member of your own body—because you are.
This isn’t hard to do.
If you receive and accept another person, then you can help them out. You can give them some of what they’re lacking, if you have it to give. You can share some of your Thanksgiving meal with them, even if you don’t know them.
And in the context of the body of Christ, this sort of simple act has repercussions far bigger than the act itself, because when you do this with a fellow believer, you aren’t just showing hospitality—you’re displaying the unity you have in Christ, the unity he achieved for you through his life, death and resurrection.
The Meal That Teaches Us to See
So what do we do with this?
Paul’s answer is not complicated: wait for one another. Receive one another. Welcome one another. Discern the body.
And that means we need to ask ourselves some very simple, very uncomfortable questions.
When I come to church, who do I actually see?
Do I see only the people I already know? Only the people I naturally enjoy? Only the people who are easy for me? Only the people who can give something back to me?
Or do I see the body of Christ?
Because the Lord’s Supper does not allow me to come to the table as an isolated individual. It does not allow me to say, “Jesus died for me,” while ignoring the brother or sister beside me for whom Jesus also died.
Christ did not shed his blood to create a club. He shed his blood to create a family.
And families notice when someone is missing. Families notice when someone is hungry. Families notice when someone is alone. Families notice when someone is carrying a weight that is too heavy for them.
Now, none of us will do this perfectly. No church will do this perfectly. There will always be needs we miss, people we overlook, situations we do not understand. But the question is not whether we can become a perfect community. The question is whether the gospel is making us into a more attentive community.
So when you come to church, do not only ask, “What did I receive today?” Ask also, “Whom did I receive today?”
Whom did I welcome? Whom did I notice? Whom did I move toward? Whom did I treat as a brother or sister, not just as another person in the room?
Maybe that means inviting someone to sit with you. Maybe it means staying ten minutes longer after the service to speak with someone who is alone. Or asking a real question and actually listening to the answer. Or sharing a meal. Or apologizing to someone you have avoided or hurt. Or refusing to let social comfort decide who matters to you in the church.
It sounds simple, and it is. But if we believe Paul, it is a responsibility that could not be more serious.
At this table, Christ says to every repentant believer: “You are not here because you are worthy. You are here because I gave myself for you.”
And then, as we look around the room, we are meant to realize: he says the same thing to every other believer here.
So when we come to the table, we come hungry. We come empty-handed. We come unworthy. But we also come together.
And the table sends us back out as a different kind of community: a people who welcome because we have been welcomed, a people who give because Christ gave himself, a people who make room because Christ made room for us.
So receive one another. Examine yourself. Repent of your sin. Receive the grace of Christ.
And then come to the table.
