A few weeks ago, many of us gathered to celebrate World Communion Sunday, in large cathedrals and small country congregations, in storefront missions and suburban churches, in ornate Gothic chapels and outdoors under tents. We were offered a piece of bread—cornbread, matzo, pita, injera, challah, Wonder Bread—and a sip of juice or wine. In the small ordinary actions of eating and drinking, we were invited “to taste and see that the Lord is good” or, in the words of the old hymn, “I see thee face to face; here would I touch and handle things unseen” (UMH, no. 623).
A sacrament is a visible sign of an invisible grace. It helps us see that which lies beyond seeing: the extent of God’s love. When we eat the bread and drink the cup, those seemingly insignificant tastes open us to the eternal goodness of God.
But what does it mean to taste and see this way? Surely there is more to it than the flavor of yeast and grape on one’s tongue. To taste and see that God is good implies a relationship with God, an experience of God’s goodness, taking that in and being nourished by it. From the beginning of time, God has looked on creation and seen that it was good. This tasting and seeing invites us to respond in kind: to look on God and see God’s goodness.
We may take that goodness for granted when the sun is shining and all is well or perhaps even attribute our good fortune to our own efforts. But when we experience the body’s ability to heal, love’s power to comfort, a child’s smile, or an elder’s blessing, then we are fed by the goodness of God; we taste and truly see.