The question is understandable. After all, we realise our sinfulness most acutely when we approach the holy God. So the question is getting at something profoundly true.

But I suggest that in the end it’s the wrong question. For in the end none of us is ever worthy to come to Jesus for anything – whether bread and wine, forgiveness (who could ever be worthy of forgiveness?), life, breath or anything else. We don’t come to Jesus because we are worthy, but because we are needy.

Listen to John Calvin:

How could we, needy and bare of all good, befouled with sins, half-dead, eat the Lord’s body worthily? Rather, we shall think that we, as being poor, come to a kindly giver; as sick, to a physician; as sinners, to the Author of righteousness; finally, as dead, to him who gives us life. We shall think that the worthiness, which is commanded by God, consists chiefly in faith, which reposes all things in Christ, but nothing in ourselves; secondly, in love – and that very love which, though imperfect, is enough to offer to God, that he may increase it to something better. (Calvin, Institutes, IV.xvii.42)

Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity! It is like the precious oil on the head, running down on the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down on the collar of his robes! It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the mountains of Zion! For there the LORD has commanded the blessing, life forevermore. (Ps 133:1-3)

Abram said to Lot, “Let there be no strife between you and me, and between your herdsmen and my herdsmen, for we are kinsmen.” (Gen 13:8)

Then [Joseph] sent his brothers away, and as they departed, he said to them, “Do not quarrel on the way.” (Genesis 45:24)

I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word,  that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. (John 17:20-21)

I appeal to you, brothers, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment. (1 Corinthians 1:10)

Aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. (2 Corinthians 13:11)

I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit – just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call – one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. (Ephesians 4:1-6)

Put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. (Colossians 3:14)

Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. (1 Peter 3:8)

The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread. (1 Corinthians 10:16-17)

Perhaps we might say that a sacrament is a symbol in something like the way that a wedding ring is a symbol. The ring is related to the reality of the marital devotion it symbolises. You couldn’t thrown away your wedding ring without upsetting your spouse, because the ring and the love are intimately connected. Of course it’s possible, in theory, to give or receive a wedding ring without loving your spouse, but that’s not how we define its significance. The ring symbolises love because your spouse uses the ring to communicate love. Through the gift of a ring your spouse says, “I love you.”

Of course, we derive no benefit from God’s grace without faith, and so as Calvin says the sacraments “avail and profit nothing unless received by faith” (Institutes, IV.xiv.17). Yet faith is itself a gift of God, which is strengthened through (among other things) the sacraments themselves. As Calvin puts it, “sacraments … sustain, nourish, confirm, and increase our faith” (Institutes, IV.xiv.7). Even the faith that God requires is itself his gift to us.

Jesus was sent out of the city; we draw near to God.

Jesus was lifted up on a tree; we sit down around a table.

Jesus was thirsty; we eat and drink.

Jesus was cursed; we are blessed.

Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.

Consider the infinite grace and kindness of Christ, that he joins his people at such humble meetings. Not only where thousands celebrate, but where two or three are gathered – there the Lord is found.

Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.

Jesus’ body was broken so that his Body, the church, could be made whole.

John 19:34

One of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water.

Jesus’ blood was poured out in death so that by faith we could drink this wine and be strengthened in life.

And Judah and Israel lived in safety, from Dan even to Beersheba, every man under his vine and under his fig tree, all the days of Solomon.

The vine and the fig tree here speak of the security and peace enjoyed by Judah and Israel during the reign of Solomon. Such produce of the land fulfilled the expectations of e.g. Deuteronomy 8:8 (cf. also 1 Kings 4:20), besides testifying in a very practical way to the fact that they had rest from war. After all, cultivating vines is pretty labour-intensive, and the plants tend to suffer if you’re always dashing off to deal with invading armies.

Thus wine speaks of safety, security, peace.

So Jesus said to them, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.’

Over the centuries, many Christians have got quite confused about what it means to ‘feed’ on Jesus’ flesh and ‘drink’ his blood.

Some have wrongly imagined that, if we are to ‘feed’ on Jesus, he must be somehow physically located in the bread. This is wrong – Jesus is physically located in heaven, not on earth.

Others, perhaps reacting against the first misunderstanding, have rejected the idea that we really feed on Jesus at all. The Lord’s Supper is just a helpful memory aid, they say, nothing more. But this hardly does justice to Jesus’ words in John 6.

Here’s what actually happens. Jesus is physically located in heaven. He’s not physically ‘in’ the bread. So we’re not in any way ‘eating’ Jesus physically.

But this doesn’t mean that Jesus is absent. Jesus is present with us now, because we are present with him in heaven, by faith. When we ‘lift up our hearts’ at the start of our service, we ascent to heaven by faith, to be seated with Jesus.

By faith, therefore, we feed on Jesus life-giving body in heaven, at the same time that we feed by sight on this bread now on earth. The two acts of eating are ‘parallel’: our physical feeding-by-sight on this bread on earth is the divinely-appointed means by which we feed-by-faith on the body of Christ in heaven.

Our feeding on Christ is not visible, but it is nonetheless real. Feeding on Christ by faith means reckoning this to be true.

And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with sinners and tax collectors, said to his disciples, ‘Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?’ And when Jesus heard it, he said to them, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.’

Once upon a time there was a great King, who lived in a magnificent palace surrounded by a beautiful garden. And the king had a gardener. The king gave the gardener everything he needed and more besides, but the gardener was lazy and wicked. He didn’t care for the King’s garden, but stole its produce and mocked the King behind his back.

The King knew about all this, of course, and one day confronted the gardener with a long list of his offences. Horrified and ashamed at his own wickedness, the gardener turned to leave, but the King called him back.

Instead of suing the gardener to regain his stolen property, the King forgave him. More than that, the King invited him to take up residence with him in the palace, and to join him at his own table.

The gardener was overwhelmed at the King’s generosity. Occasionally he looked back at his former sins, and felt guilty for what he’d done. He sometimes didn’t feel that he belonged in the King’s house at all – he certainly didn’t deserve a place at his table!

But the gardener knew that the King wouldn’t want him to think in this way. After all, the King had decided to forgive him! However intensely the gardener felt his unworthiness, he knew that the King loved him more. ‘These wonderful meals are a celebration of my King’s abundant kindness,’ he said to himself, ‘not an opportunity for me to feel sorry for myself!’

So the King and the gardener rejoiced as they ate and drank together.

There is one body and one Spirit – just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call – one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

The oneness of Christ’s body, the church, is represented here by the oneness of the bread (1 Cor 10:17). Similarly, just as Christ’s body was broken, so also this bread is broken.

Christ’s body was broken; the bread is broken; the church is united.

This is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the LORD … I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.

The forgiveness of sins is surely one of the greatest blessings of the New Covenant. Jesus said, ‘This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood’ (Luke 22:20). As you drink, remember and rejoice that your sins have been forgiven through Christ.

All the prosperous of the earth eat and worship.

It’s possible that ‘eating’ and ‘worshipping’ here are conceived as two separate acts. But it’s surely not impossible that they are identified: they worship by eating; they worship as they eat.

We worship God when we receive his created goodness with thanksgiving, honouring him in our hearts as the Provider.

Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. Let us therefore celebrate the festival, not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.

Like the blood of the lambs at the first Passover, Christ’s blood shelters us from the wrath of God. And like the first Passover, the Lord’s Supper is a meal on the road to freedom.

[The rebellious Israelites in the desert] tested God in their heart by demanding the food they craved. They spoke against God, saying, ‘Can God spread a table in the wilderness?’

Yes he can. Indeed, yes he has. Just as he set before the wandering Israelites the food they needed, so also he sets before us this feast, nourishing us as we feed on Christ by faith on our journey to the Promised Land.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

The Lord does not lead us through the valley of the shadow of death merely in order to get us out the other side, but to take us somewhere better. He does not set before us an open plain, but a table, a bounteous banquet, an overflowing cup.

Just so, the Lord does not lead us through hard times merely in order to get us back where we started. He always takes us somewhere better. Refined through suffering, his people are being transformed through hardship more into the likeness of the Son.

My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips, when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.

As our mouths are satisfied with food, so our souls are satisfied with God himself.

And by ’soul’, understand not the ‘disembodied self’, but the (very much embodied) whole being.

The vision of God’s glorious and committed love provides the thirsting psalmist with life-sustaining satisfaction. Again, it is not some disembodied spiritual part of the psalmist that is being fed but his whole animated being – the self-aware nepes, which includes mind and body together. (Gerald H. Wilson, Psalms vol. 1, NIVAC, p. 891)

How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.

Feasting on the LORD’s abundant blessings; taking refuge in the shadow of the LORD’s wings. Both are gifts of the steadfast love of the LORD.

As you eat and drink, look up by faith and see the wings of the LORD – hovering, protecting, sheltering, providing.

On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined. And he will swallow up on this mountain the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations.

A glorious banquet – a picture of the feast in the Kingdom of God.

While we swallow the rich food and aged wine of the Kingdom, the LORD will swallow up the ‘covering’ of death itself – the funeral shroud that covers all peoples.

And David said to [Mephibosheth] ‘Do not fear, for I will show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan, and I will restore to you all the land of Saul your father, and you shall eat at my table always.’

Mephibosheth would have been a pitiful figure. The grandson of Saul, he was crippled in both feet, having been dropped by his nurse while still an infant (2 Sam 4:4). He would doubtless have been looked on with disdain – hopeless as a soldier, unable to look after himself or even to stand with dignity.

Yet King David invited this outcast to share the highest privilege – to eat at the King’s table. As the courtiers and visiting dignitaries stode purposefully into the great hall to take their seats at the banquet, Mephibosheth would have hobbled – or perhaps even been carried – to his seat. And their he sat, enjoying all the blessings of life in the Messiah’s Kingdom, a trophy of the King’s grace.