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Recovering Communion in a Violent World
The act of breaking and eating a body in Holy Communion forms us over time. What if that's not such a good thing? Recovering Communion in a Violent World provides an unblinking examination of the ritualized reenactment of the violence done to Jesus in Holy Communion, using insights from the fields of ritual studies and trauma theory. Then, drawing upon recent research in Christian origins, the book raises possibilities for sacramental meal practices that don't ignore the death of Jesus but respond to it differently. Rather than colluding with systems of violence, these alternative practices respond to violence in our world by continuing to collaborate with the persistence and resilience of God, as well as with the realm of God still coming near. The result is a groundbreaking exploration that is both unflinching in its critique and passionate in its argument for the place of renewed Christian meal practices. In an era when world religions have come under greater scrutiny as sources of violence, this book asks readers to look squarely at the reenactment of violence that has come to narrowly define Holy Communion for so long and to imagine that more radical, resistant sacramental meal practices are possible.
208 pages, Hardcover
Published November 15, 2019
7 people are currently reading
19 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
November 5, 2020
I have often been uncomfortable with the blood language and violent undertones present in our worship resources - hymns, liturgy, sacrament. Reading this book was like taking a deep, cleansing breath of fresh air. I would recommend it for any church leader, may member, or spiritual seeker who is yearning to see our most sacred practices through a new, life-giving lens.
Disclaimer: I received the book as a free gift from the author, but this review is my own, and it was well earned.
Disclaimer: I received the book as a free gift from the author, but this review is my own, and it was well earned.
November 24, 2020
"And that is the point. The goal is to change the economy of Holy Communion from one in which the sacred food is a scarce commodity controlled and doled out by a religious elite (clergy, elders, or both) to one in which all participate in sharing so that we all might experience abundance." p. 146
Before I begin, I should share that Christopher Grundy is a friend of mine, I consider him part of my extended family, I love his music, and that I am more proud of my alma mater, Eden Theological Seminary, knowing Professor Grundy teaches there.
Grundy’s book will be an important contribution to the ongoing discussion about the meaning and practice of Holy Communion. I think the one weakness of the book is that it makes references to a broad critique of current Christian practice and meaning while actually developing a more specific point of departure for a critique of current Christian practice and meaning around objectification and sexual violence.
If Grundy’s text did indeed try to speak more broadly about the myth of redemptive violence, I think he would need to engage Walter Wink’s writing and, even more so, Dom Helder Camara’s "Spiral of Violence."
What he has done has torn the tablecloth off the table of what patriarchy considers a silent, private meal to acknowledge the horrific hierarchies and objectification that should have trigger warnings at every turn.
In doing so, Grundy gives us permission to imagine and risk something more egalitarian, just, loving, and communally public which should be in keeping with a meal tradition that sought to intentionally unseat and disrupt a violent status quo.
My hope is that Grundy or someone else will pick up his text and engage the broader public discourse. That engagement will be critical as State violence enjoins peaceful protest on the street and, at times, seeks to provoke or use vandalism or property damage to justify violence against human bodies. What does a sacrament like Holy Communion teach us as we see or move in protest, State action, and media delivery? How do we imagine that sacrament being practiced on the streets in a way that is faithful? What can we learn from public liturgies which have already been practiced?
As a more specific text, however, Grundy has offered an alternative meal practice that is long overdue. We recognize that void when we are on a youth mission trip, only have saltines and water, and find that the meaning of that communion seems deeper and more meaningful than what we experience on Sunday morning. In my last settled pastorate, I found it powerful when we did not have our regular communion stewards in place. An intergenerational mix came forward with mentoring and grace evident in distribution. I found that mix seeded with much more joy and meaning—disrupting the hierarchy Grundy strongly critiques.
In particular, Grundy wants to unhook Holy Communion from what Christians would traditionally call “The Last Supper.” The words given to Jesus in The Last Supper are fraught with an acknowledgment of violence or predicted violence. Grundy is especially critical of language that moves “Jesus’s body and blood” from a subject to an object, controlled, managed, and done violence to that body and blood by others. He points to other meal stories/traditions that are profoundly more countercultural—manna and water, feeding of the multitude, eschatological promise, footwashing, breakfast on the beach, and Emmaus. He makes the invitation for others to imagine with him.
In that imagining, I see the Syro-Phoenician/Canaanite woman as a questioning interloper in the liturgy, not unlike children during Passover, asking why she and her daughter are not included at the table. With that healthy questioning, the table is transformed and expanded to continue asking, “Who is here or not here for whom the table should be transformed and expanded?”
That imagining would go hand in hand with Grundy’s explanation of the apostle Paul’s Holy Communion practice where nobody goes away from the table hungry and some of those at table are actually economically poor. In those socially radical practices, Holy Communion is not Holy Communion unless those in need are present and actually fed. I believe what Grundy is asking for is a table which is integrated with justice-doing and peace-making in our community. If rituals and a sacrament are going to imprint powerful meaning, should they not somehow disrupt tables too often communicating class and caste?
As with the healthy spiritual practice of Biblical study then, I would ask whether maybe all Holy Communion should begin with an acknowledgment of our social location. Rather than the too often empty Prayers of Confession we make inside and outside our Holy Community liturgy, social location acknowledgment would be a way of saying where we are and where we want to be.
Not only with Paul, but Grundy lays out elements in other Biblical communion stories that have elements which require socially radical practices. If we practiced what we read in the Emmaus communion story, we might need to receive food from a stranger or provide hospitality to a stranger, share in prayer, have a meal that is an epiphany, a citation, or a performative reiteration of a meal that helps the Beloved Community to come near, and an acknowledgement and recognition by the disciples of that Beloved Community.
In spelling out these Scriptural stories that have socially radical practices, Grundy is encouraging his readers to integrate meal practices in Holy Communion that have too often been separate—feeding the poor, community potlucks, and the small bread and grape juice of Holy Communion. In practicing violent objectification, sparse economies, and hierarchical distribution, we are practicing a theology of Jesus that should honor body and blood as subjects, multiplying abundance economies of solidarity, and just distribution. His text offers us a possibility and dialog of transformational intention.
What we have been doing in Holy Communion should come loaded with trigger warnings for those who have experience or are experiencing ongoing sexual violence. Grundy’s text calls out our ongoing assumptions to show what damage we are doing to the Body of Christ in a tradition that romanticizes the trauma, torture, and death of Jesus. He makes it clear that we have ample resources within the tradition to make healthier choices.
As with all work within a major faith narrative, his text also shows the constant struggle we have to critique the Christian tradition while recognizing how we must also engage power. Early in the text, Grundy shares that he will use the Beloved Community (I love this) rather than Kin-dom or some other translation of the early Jewish movement that Jesus referenced as the Kingdom/Empire of God. Beloved Community, as a term coined in the Civil Rights Movement, can open us to speaking openly about the alternative Domination System. I assume that Jesus’s use of Empire/Kingdom of God is intentionally satirical and provocative as a proverbial phrase that opens us to something radically different than the Roman Empire/Kingdom of Caesar. Beloved Community will always need to be moored over and against racism, materialism, and militarism. Or, better yet, the American imperial project.
I pray that liturgical theologians will use Grundy’s good text as a point of departure for language and imagery that has long needed changing. I am grateful that he has given us all permission to open a wider treasure of meal stories for liturgical use in Holy Communion.
Before I begin, I should share that Christopher Grundy is a friend of mine, I consider him part of my extended family, I love his music, and that I am more proud of my alma mater, Eden Theological Seminary, knowing Professor Grundy teaches there.
Grundy’s book will be an important contribution to the ongoing discussion about the meaning and practice of Holy Communion. I think the one weakness of the book is that it makes references to a broad critique of current Christian practice and meaning while actually developing a more specific point of departure for a critique of current Christian practice and meaning around objectification and sexual violence.
If Grundy’s text did indeed try to speak more broadly about the myth of redemptive violence, I think he would need to engage Walter Wink’s writing and, even more so, Dom Helder Camara’s "Spiral of Violence."
What he has done has torn the tablecloth off the table of what patriarchy considers a silent, private meal to acknowledge the horrific hierarchies and objectification that should have trigger warnings at every turn.
In doing so, Grundy gives us permission to imagine and risk something more egalitarian, just, loving, and communally public which should be in keeping with a meal tradition that sought to intentionally unseat and disrupt a violent status quo.
My hope is that Grundy or someone else will pick up his text and engage the broader public discourse. That engagement will be critical as State violence enjoins peaceful protest on the street and, at times, seeks to provoke or use vandalism or property damage to justify violence against human bodies. What does a sacrament like Holy Communion teach us as we see or move in protest, State action, and media delivery? How do we imagine that sacrament being practiced on the streets in a way that is faithful? What can we learn from public liturgies which have already been practiced?
As a more specific text, however, Grundy has offered an alternative meal practice that is long overdue. We recognize that void when we are on a youth mission trip, only have saltines and water, and find that the meaning of that communion seems deeper and more meaningful than what we experience on Sunday morning. In my last settled pastorate, I found it powerful when we did not have our regular communion stewards in place. An intergenerational mix came forward with mentoring and grace evident in distribution. I found that mix seeded with much more joy and meaning—disrupting the hierarchy Grundy strongly critiques.
In particular, Grundy wants to unhook Holy Communion from what Christians would traditionally call “The Last Supper.” The words given to Jesus in The Last Supper are fraught with an acknowledgment of violence or predicted violence. Grundy is especially critical of language that moves “Jesus’s body and blood” from a subject to an object, controlled, managed, and done violence to that body and blood by others. He points to other meal stories/traditions that are profoundly more countercultural—manna and water, feeding of the multitude, eschatological promise, footwashing, breakfast on the beach, and Emmaus. He makes the invitation for others to imagine with him.
In that imagining, I see the Syro-Phoenician/Canaanite woman as a questioning interloper in the liturgy, not unlike children during Passover, asking why she and her daughter are not included at the table. With that healthy questioning, the table is transformed and expanded to continue asking, “Who is here or not here for whom the table should be transformed and expanded?”
That imagining would go hand in hand with Grundy’s explanation of the apostle Paul’s Holy Communion practice where nobody goes away from the table hungry and some of those at table are actually economically poor. In those socially radical practices, Holy Communion is not Holy Communion unless those in need are present and actually fed. I believe what Grundy is asking for is a table which is integrated with justice-doing and peace-making in our community. If rituals and a sacrament are going to imprint powerful meaning, should they not somehow disrupt tables too often communicating class and caste?
As with the healthy spiritual practice of Biblical study then, I would ask whether maybe all Holy Communion should begin with an acknowledgment of our social location. Rather than the too often empty Prayers of Confession we make inside and outside our Holy Community liturgy, social location acknowledgment would be a way of saying where we are and where we want to be.
Not only with Paul, but Grundy lays out elements in other Biblical communion stories that have elements which require socially radical practices. If we practiced what we read in the Emmaus communion story, we might need to receive food from a stranger or provide hospitality to a stranger, share in prayer, have a meal that is an epiphany, a citation, or a performative reiteration of a meal that helps the Beloved Community to come near, and an acknowledgement and recognition by the disciples of that Beloved Community.
In spelling out these Scriptural stories that have socially radical practices, Grundy is encouraging his readers to integrate meal practices in Holy Communion that have too often been separate—feeding the poor, community potlucks, and the small bread and grape juice of Holy Communion. In practicing violent objectification, sparse economies, and hierarchical distribution, we are practicing a theology of Jesus that should honor body and blood as subjects, multiplying abundance economies of solidarity, and just distribution. His text offers us a possibility and dialog of transformational intention.
What we have been doing in Holy Communion should come loaded with trigger warnings for those who have experience or are experiencing ongoing sexual violence. Grundy’s text calls out our ongoing assumptions to show what damage we are doing to the Body of Christ in a tradition that romanticizes the trauma, torture, and death of Jesus. He makes it clear that we have ample resources within the tradition to make healthier choices.
As with all work within a major faith narrative, his text also shows the constant struggle we have to critique the Christian tradition while recognizing how we must also engage power. Early in the text, Grundy shares that he will use the Beloved Community (I love this) rather than Kin-dom or some other translation of the early Jewish movement that Jesus referenced as the Kingdom/Empire of God. Beloved Community, as a term coined in the Civil Rights Movement, can open us to speaking openly about the alternative Domination System. I assume that Jesus’s use of Empire/Kingdom of God is intentionally satirical and provocative as a proverbial phrase that opens us to something radically different than the Roman Empire/Kingdom of Caesar. Beloved Community will always need to be moored over and against racism, materialism, and militarism. Or, better yet, the American imperial project.
I pray that liturgical theologians will use Grundy’s good text as a point of departure for language and imagery that has long needed changing. I am grateful that he has given us all permission to open a wider treasure of meal stories for liturgical use in Holy Communion.
February 4, 2021
As a pastor who presides at the communion table, I was looking forward to reading this book. I have often felt that communion could be so much more meaningful. It is a ritual that feels somewhat stale and rote, and I knew that my discomfort with it had something to do with atonement theology, yet I didn't have any idea how to go about transforming the liturgy or the congregation's experience at the table.
Grundy has a way forward! He begins by stating what probably should be obvious, but isn't. The communion liturgy objectifies Jesus and re-enacts re-enacts violence done to him. “This is my body, broken for you.” Over and over again, we make Jesus an object and we break apart his body. To me, it has felt uncomfortable. To victims of rape, torture, and abuse, however, the liturgy can be traumatizing.
Once we are aware of the dangers inherent in the words we're saying, we can then imagine ways that not only can we not inflict more pain but that the communion experience can be life-giving, empowering us to be an alternative beloved community that resists violence and exclusion.
The second half of the book is more practical. Grundy re-reads meal stories from the New Testament and asks us to consider how all of those stories can inform our understanding of communion. I am eagerly anticipating experimenting with new words and practices at the table. I'm grateful for this book and highly recommend it.
Grundy has a way forward! He begins by stating what probably should be obvious, but isn't. The communion liturgy objectifies Jesus and re-enacts re-enacts violence done to him. “This is my body, broken for you.” Over and over again, we make Jesus an object and we break apart his body. To me, it has felt uncomfortable. To victims of rape, torture, and abuse, however, the liturgy can be traumatizing.
Once we are aware of the dangers inherent in the words we're saying, we can then imagine ways that not only can we not inflict more pain but that the communion experience can be life-giving, empowering us to be an alternative beloved community that resists violence and exclusion.
The second half of the book is more practical. Grundy re-reads meal stories from the New Testament and asks us to consider how all of those stories can inform our understanding of communion. I am eagerly anticipating experimenting with new words and practices at the table. I'm grateful for this book and highly recommend it.
November 24, 2020
I was given a free copy of Dr. Christopher Grundy’s latest book, Recovering Communion in a Violent World in return for an honest opinion. I was challenged by the experience. Dr. Grundy’s primary claim is a proactive one. Our current practices of Communion have a tendency to off-putting to those who have experienced trauma and abuse and also don’t do enough to empower us to work against violence in our world. Therefore, we should explore other ways to faithfully perform the Sacrament of Holy Communion that will better help us bring forth the Kin-dom of God. Why should we care how Communion affects a small (though not nearly as small as we might wish) portion of our congregations if it has worked good for so many through the millennia? Because we are unified in one Body as the Church. And eventually, “the problems experienced by others should prod us to ask whether there are deeper, structural issues that shape us all.” (pg. 29) Beginning with this premise, Dr. Grundy explores ways that our current Sacrament might be improved. He then goes on to examine what other meal-sharing traditions, Communion traditions, are found in our Gospels and New Testament. In using these scared texts, Dr. Grundy gives us a method by which we might, if so desire, adapt other forms of Communion while still being faithful to our Savior and the traditions that have sustained the Church for 2000 years.
As I have already suggested, this book is challenging. It is a well written and informed look at what Communion is, has been, and could be. It takes a hard look at some the challenges that may be facing this Sacrament in the 21st-Century, but does so while also showing just how much Dr. Grundy loves it all that same. While I won’t say that I am completely convinced by his premise, I am convicted that this is a topic that bears and indeed needs further discussion and reflection. If nothing else, I am intrigued by the suggestions at the end of different ways to connect Communion to the Biblical story. While I am not ready to totally “decenter” the Last Supper tradition, I am fully ready to bring other stories into the congregation. “The night of betrayal” with its deep connections to the cross and the theme of sacrifice, should not be the only meal story of Jesus that we share. Dr. Grundy’s work in the latter half of the book is especially powerful in helping to bring those other stories to light.
One area of concern I would have for this book is it at times feels a little too scholarly. This is the kind of book I would love to share with an adult education class or even church leadership. But some of the sections might be a bit confusing. My fear would be that they might simply close the book instead of figuring out the meaning. Then again, I might be overthinking this. (I am probably over-thinking this.)
Recovering Communion in a Violent World is a good book about an important topic (at least within the Church). If you work within a congregational setting, or are just interested into a deep liturgical dive on Communion, I recommend it to you.
As I have already suggested, this book is challenging. It is a well written and informed look at what Communion is, has been, and could be. It takes a hard look at some the challenges that may be facing this Sacrament in the 21st-Century, but does so while also showing just how much Dr. Grundy loves it all that same. While I won’t say that I am completely convinced by his premise, I am convicted that this is a topic that bears and indeed needs further discussion and reflection. If nothing else, I am intrigued by the suggestions at the end of different ways to connect Communion to the Biblical story. While I am not ready to totally “decenter” the Last Supper tradition, I am fully ready to bring other stories into the congregation. “The night of betrayal” with its deep connections to the cross and the theme of sacrifice, should not be the only meal story of Jesus that we share. Dr. Grundy’s work in the latter half of the book is especially powerful in helping to bring those other stories to light.
One area of concern I would have for this book is it at times feels a little too scholarly. This is the kind of book I would love to share with an adult education class or even church leadership. But some of the sections might be a bit confusing. My fear would be that they might simply close the book instead of figuring out the meaning. Then again, I might be overthinking this. (I am probably over-thinking this.)
Recovering Communion in a Violent World is a good book about an important topic (at least within the Church). If you work within a congregational setting, or are just interested into a deep liturgical dive on Communion, I recommend it to you.
March 1, 2021
I received a free copy of this book and am happy to provide and honest review.
Having read this book in February of 2021, I found this book provided an important, honest, and pastoral discussion of communion. During the pandemic, the sacramental practice of communion was difficult to continue as churches went virtual and gathering in community in person was discouraged. As churches begin to consider returning to in person gatherings, pastors must take seriously the trauma caused by quarantine living and the fear of catching COVID-19. Pastors must consider how this will impact gathering at the communion table. Though this book was written before the COVID-19 pandemic, it encourages the reader to consider the historical, political, and violent roots of communion practices and liturgical language. This book also offers a trauma informed look at how communion can bring people together again, offering communion in hopeful, non-violent, community building ways.
Rev. Chance Beeler, BCC
Having read this book in February of 2021, I found this book provided an important, honest, and pastoral discussion of communion. During the pandemic, the sacramental practice of communion was difficult to continue as churches went virtual and gathering in community in person was discouraged. As churches begin to consider returning to in person gatherings, pastors must take seriously the trauma caused by quarantine living and the fear of catching COVID-19. Pastors must consider how this will impact gathering at the communion table. Though this book was written before the COVID-19 pandemic, it encourages the reader to consider the historical, political, and violent roots of communion practices and liturgical language. This book also offers a trauma informed look at how communion can bring people together again, offering communion in hopeful, non-violent, community building ways.
Rev. Chance Beeler, BCC
August 29, 2022
I come to this book as a fairly new congregational pastor, but also someone who, even during my time as a member in the pews, has long struggled with the focus on the blood atonement language within the communion liturgy.
In this work Grundy addresses the issues of violence that underpin most contemporary communion liturgies, and then presents other scripture that can help move a communion liturgy and practice away from that violence and toward an understanding of communion that draws from the many stories of table and meal present in scripture.
For most of the books that I read, I find it takes time to parse out how the ideas and arguments presented may come to affect my ministry. For this book, it may just be that I was particularly primed for this subject matter, I found that before I was even done, it was changing how I considered the Gospel reading in my sermon preparation.
My one note for those considering reading this book is that the writing is definitely geared towards those serving in ministry. It may not be the most approachable work for those in the pews.
In this work Grundy addresses the issues of violence that underpin most contemporary communion liturgies, and then presents other scripture that can help move a communion liturgy and practice away from that violence and toward an understanding of communion that draws from the many stories of table and meal present in scripture.
For most of the books that I read, I find it takes time to parse out how the ideas and arguments presented may come to affect my ministry. For this book, it may just be that I was particularly primed for this subject matter, I found that before I was even done, it was changing how I considered the Gospel reading in my sermon preparation.
My one note for those considering reading this book is that the writing is definitely geared towards those serving in ministry. It may not be the most approachable work for those in the pews.
January 25, 2024
I disagreed with the general premise of this book—I don’t think the violence of the cross perpetuates or re-enacts violence and trauma overwhelmingly. I believe the cross is the point at which the Divine really enters in our suffering to truly redeem humanity. From what the author has written, I understand that this makes people uncomfortable. And I appreciate gaining this particular perspective from the author. I want to be aware of people’s suffering and if the language we use makes them uncomfortable. But I also think that I approach the cross and communion differently than the author—they are for the redemption of the human race. God stares death and suffering in the face and defeats on the cross. What the author presents is almost a bland, feel-good version of God. How is suffering ultimately defeated? Where’s the actual hope? That’s where the author falls short, I believe. Nevertheless, well written, I didn’t want to put it down, because I found it quite provocative, and would like to continue thinking about the radical community he proposes.
August 25, 2020
I received a free copy of this book with a request for an honest review. Dr. Grundy’s critique of embodied violence practiced in traditional experiences of Holy Communion is both necessary and timely. This book is not simply an academic theological treatise on the Eucharist. Grundy’s treatment of Holy Communion is deeply pastoral and profoundly relevant to the modern church. As a minister, I especially appreciate Dr. Grundy for not only calling out violence as practiced in Holy Communion, but also for offering space to consider alternative Eucharistic liturgies,
(see, www.beloved communion.org). I highly recommend this resource to anyone (both clergy & laity) who is interested in critically examining how we have traditionally engaged the Holy through sacred meals – and also as a space to begin dialogue by sharing and imagining new and inventive ways to practice this sacred meal where all will feel welcomed, wanted, and safe.
(see, www.beloved communion.org). I highly recommend this resource to anyone (both clergy & laity) who is interested in critically examining how we have traditionally engaged the Holy through sacred meals – and also as a space to begin dialogue by sharing and imagining new and inventive ways to practice this sacred meal where all will feel welcomed, wanted, and safe.
February 9, 2020
I have mixed feelings about the book. While I don't believe that there is a prescribed liturgy that we must adhere to, thus, we can have the Lord's Supper without the Words of Institution, I was frustrated by the book. At least to me, he read violence into the text that I don't see. Nevertheless, there is material that might be helpful as we expand our understandings of what occurs in the Supper.
September 3, 2021
A must for the reforming church
Yes. Yes. Yes. A must read for the evolving church. We can always do better in our liturgical practices to reflect more the actual teaching of Jesus. Can’t wait to begin these conversations with my worship teams to begin the process of reconciling communion.
Yes. Yes. Yes. A must read for the evolving church. We can always do better in our liturgical practices to reflect more the actual teaching of Jesus. Can’t wait to begin these conversations with my worship teams to begin the process of reconciling communion.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews