Like many people, I attended church while growing up. As a result, my understanding of the whole concept of communion was limited to what my religious teachers taught me in Sunday school and what I observed as a parishioner during church services.
In my little boy’s mind, communion was nothing other than an overly formal ritual in which consecrated bread and wine were consumed to symbolize the body and blood of Christ and to memorialize his sacrifice for us on the Cross. To their credit, my Sunday school teachers also taught me that the Eucharist was a symbol of the eternal spiritual union between Christ and his devotees.
However, for me, something about the whole practice felt intuitively hollow and incomplete. I remember quietly asking the following questions to myself whenever I stood in line, with my right hand crossed over my left, to receive communion from the priest:
- Why did everyone in the room seem so serious during communion, and deem it necessary to dress to the nines to receive a symbolic offering in honour of a prophet who condemned the superficial appearances of the world?
- Why did this ritual feel utterly lifeless and devoid of anything even slightly resembling the essence of living spirit?
- Why did I come away from church services feeling more anxious, coerced (at one point I was forced to be an altar boy) and disconnected from religion? This was the most pressing question of all.
Disconnection and hedonism
By the time I entered middle school, my parents (to mine and my sisters’ overwhelming relief and gratitude) left the decision to attend church up to us. Like many children with wild spirits still intact, the two of us elected to spend our Sunday afternoons joyously jumping rope outside or racing our bikes around the neighbourhood instead of attending what we felt were essentially lifeless services that had little relevance to our ever-expanding minds.
This lack of overall connection to the living spirit that I felt in Church so disenchanted me that for the next 18 years of my life, I didn’t want anything to do with religion. On into my teenage years and throughout the entirety of my twenties, I took a strong interest in social activism. I also began drinking, partly as a way to cope with the lack of connection I felt to myself, the world and not least of all, to Creation.
Not surprisingly, this lack of connection led me to fully embrace a hedonistic lifestyle. In addition to developing a bad drinking problem, I found myself in multiple tumultuous romantic relationships with women and had a few dramatic brushes with the law. At one point in my early twenties, my inner suffering felt so great that I even seriously considered taking my own life.
Oftentimes, I would lie awake in my bed after a long night of heavy drinking with friends, and cast blame on the church for my seeming lack of connection to the world. Sometimes, as I lambasted my own religious experiences (or lack thereof) in my mind, I’d recall a comical but fitting story my mother told me: When I was six years old, I kicked a priest in the groin just as I was being served communion.
You can imagine the state of shock among all the parishioners that day! Clearly, my resentment for the church and its version of communion ran deep!
Everyday communion in each moment
Looking back now with the humbling perspective that my own awakening has begun to afford me, I can clearly see that what really frustrated me about the church was that it didn’t allow for a more expansive and direct experience of genuine communion through formal worship services.
It’s always funny for me to recall that my favourite part about church was the coffee hour that followed our formal service. There, all the parishioners would gather over tables of scrumptious Greek pastries (it was a Greek Orthodox church, after all, and we Greeks absolutely love our sweets!), spanakopita (a delicious Greek dish) and cheese and crackers. During those coffee hours, I can still fondly recall how alive the whole congregation became and the genuine feelings of openness and heartfelt unity that permeated the room.
Not only did congregants happily greet one another and engage in friendly banter, but the roaring sounds of laughter were always heard. As a child, all the smiles and laughter (and the sweet Greek pastries, of course!) were the best part. As absurd as it may sound, I always felt far closer to the living spirit of Christ during those post-service coffee hours than I ever did during the actual service itself. On more than one occasion, I even thought to myself how the priest should just save himself all the trouble, cancel the services and skip right ahead to the coffee hour!
I’ve come to conclude that what made that informal weekly event so special was that it was an example of genuine communion. Very fortunately, these instances are always there for all of us to share in and enjoy. In the words of the late and great spiritual teacher, Baba Ram Dass, the opportunity is always there for us to experience “the sacred in the everyday.” After all, what is communion other than our soulful participation in and celebration of that which is sacred in the everyday?
Very fortunately, the moment-by-moment happenings of our own lives always present us with opportunities to rejoice in everyday communion. What a gift and a blessing! We don’t have to step foot in a formal house of worship to sip from the divine cup. Nor do we have to go before any religious authority to connect with the highest, for the spirit of communion is truly found here in this moment. All we ever must do is centre our awareness on that unspeakable eternal presence that is always communicating with each of us.
An experience of perfect communion
Allow me to share a very personal story about an unforgettable experience of perfect communion I had with this unspeakable eternal presence. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that this experience happened while I was in the natural world. After all, Mother Nature is the most powerful conduit for everyday communion.
It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the sun was shining brightly, and a cool autumn breeze swept across the countryside. I was hiking with my dear friend Jamie back down forest service road 316(the biblical significance of this number isn’t lost on me), a gorgeous trail in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains. We’d walked about six miles and were 20 minutes from my car when the Divine fully presented itself. We’d stopped to smoke a bit of herb and to reflect on our inspiring journey.
To commemorate the moment, I expressed to Jamie that I wished to recite a few prayers I’d compiled over the past week. The collection included sacred Buddhist, Sioux Native American, Hindu, Sufi and Christian invocations to the Absolute. I opened my journal and began to read the first lines from the Buddhist-Loving Kindness selection:
May all beings be free from danger
May all beings be free from mental suffering…
At the exact moment I recited these lines, a pack of wolves began howling in unison with the prayer. The tone of their soulful expressions was both haunting and awesome. The hairs on our necks stood at full attention. It felt as though the wolves were inside my soul as they played their heart-stringed instruments.
Because it was nearing sunset, I immediately placed my beloved companion, Abbie, on a leash and finished reciting the Buddhist prayer. I then listened… mesmerized. After a minute or two, the primal sounds of howling stopped. Jamie and I glanced at one another in silent recognition of this sublime moment. Chills went down our spines, as it became evident to us that the Infinite was speaking through the wolves. What were these loyal beings trying to convey? Oneness. Unity. Stillness. Sacred Earth Connection.
As we continued our walk back down to the car, the energy of the forest felt particularly heightened. Soon, the glorious sun began to set over majestic blue mountains and I knew deep within that my home was heaven on Earth.
Union with the Infinite
As this story conveys, our experiences of everyday communion can literally take place anywhere and seemingly arise out of nowhere. Of course, in truth, these experiences don’t really arise out of nowhere. They’re divinely inspired moments of perfection. In fact, they’re so perfect that if we could take a step back and observe the deepest seeds of manifestation in the Cosmos, we’d immediately see that these moments are intended to bring us into union with the One.
These precious moments we enjoy aren’t just limited to nature. They can also be found through daily prayer and meditation, through the sacredness of community, through creative modes of expression like music, poetry or art, and especially through loving service to others.
In the end, all we ever need to experience the pure bliss of everyday communion is to be fully present in the moment. If we can do that, the sacred in the everyday will naturally arise for our sublime fulfillment.
If you’d like to share your own stories of everyday communion, feel free to reach out to me at forrestrivers4@gmail.com or leave a message on my Facebook page (Forrest Rivers Author Page). Namaste.
images: Depositphotos
