Tokens

Recently, I was quite delighted to receive a token.  It was an actual token: a metal disk about the size of a poker chip, stamped and enameled with the organization's logo on one side, and motto on the other.  It was given, unexpectedly, as an acknowledgement of service.

Receiving this particular token was a highlight of my week, because of both the recognition (especially because it was completely unexpected!), and because of the nature of the token itself.  It's pretty, it's weighty and feels heavy in my palm, it's marked with words and symbols to evoke the essence of the organization, and it's small enough to keep among my possessions for as long as I am in this world to have such things: practically perfect in every way!

This delightful token got me to thinking about other tokens we receive, and I got to thinking about the ultimate token in Christian faith: the sacrament of Holy Communion.  Christians of different denominations believe different things about what the bread and wine (or grape juice) actually "are" after they have been consecrated during the Eucharist. Here is what Wikipedia has to say:

"While all agree that there is no perceptible change in the elements, some believe that they actually become the body and blood of Christ, others believe the true Body and Blood of Christ are really present in, with, and under the bread and wine (whose reality remains unchanged), others believe in a "real" but merely spiritual presence of Christ in the Eucharist, and still others take the act to be only a symbolic reenactment of the Last Supper." 

That is a wide range of belief, but at heart, Communion serves a similar function as the token I received.  My metal token is a tangible reminder and symbol of the reality of my part in a group, and that I have served.  Even if I were to forget about the organization, my part in it remains as real as the token I received.

And all that is also true of the elements of Communion, wherever you may fall on the range of Christian belief.  You receive real bread and real wine, elements that you can taste, smell, see, and feel.  Those elements are taken into yourself, and become part of you.  The reality of bread and wine doesn't disappear at times when you forget about God or are struggling with faith.  The reality of bread and wine remains a "real" physical thing, a thing that can help draw you back when you wander.  A thing that can strengthen you when you feel weak.  A thing whose taste will remind you of the love of God and the power of Jesus to heal and save.  A physical thing that is food for your intangible soul.  God's unique and mysterious token of eternal life.