“Tradition Tradition dai dai dai dai dai sang Tevye, “Without our traditions our lives would be as shaky as a …Fiddler on the Roof.” Tevye, the main character starts the famous play, The Fiddler on the Roof with this lively song. Like him, many households across the world hold tradition as the glue that keeps the family together. What would Thanksgiving be without the family gathered around the table eating turkey, or a Christmas without a decorated evergreen tree?
In the home I grew up in, I would say we were not very traditional, but as a young child, we were avid church goers. Every Sunday morning and night we were there, and also for Wednesday night services. In the church we worshiped in, I learned very early that communion was a church tradition highly upheld.
As a little girl, I knew I was big when I could partake in Holy Communion with my parents and my two older brothers. During the hymn, “Just as I Am” the communion plate would be passed, and carefully under a watchful eye, I took the little cup of purple grape juice and the tiny square wafer of bread. Somehow this reminded us of Jesus, and it was very serious, I had gathered from the other adults and older children around me. One must not laugh or even speak, but one must quiet themselves before taking the bread and juice.
As I grew older we went through a season of unbelief as a family. During my junior high years, we stepped away from the church, and away from communion. I didn’t think it mattered much. I was able to benefit from a stress-free Sunday, full of extra sleep and comfortable clothes. Put away and outgrown were the floral print dresses and patent leather shoes. My bible had been put on a shelf in my closet somewhere, replaced by “Seventeen” magazine. Instead of memorizing the 10 commandments, I was memorizing the top 10 ways to get a boyfriend. Life was becoming shaky like a “Fiddler on the Roof.”
In all my freedom, I became depressed. Something was missing in my life. During these adolescent years, I hopped from one social group to another. I started developing gifts and talents like singing and acting. But even in moments of success something tugged at my heart. In the let downs, I turned inwardly spiteful. Insecurity grew as I compared myself to the other girls around me. The climate of our home was dark with arguments and rebellion. I started to long for that old tradition, Church.
When my mother and I decided to attend Cedar Valley Community Church, we were invited to join the Easter Production mass choir. For two months we met with the choir. But it was in the last few rehearsals that I was touched by the old tradition of communion. As a cast of two hundred people, we would gather in the gym for a meal and devotion from Jesus (the actor who played him). In full costume, he would share a story from the gospels, and I was fascinated. It was like encountering Immanuel (God with us). One night we took communion together.
The Actor Jesus read, “For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me. In the same way, also he took the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” I Corinthians 11:23-26.
In that moment, the phrase, “on the night he was betrayed…” hung in the air. Jesus knowing full well what Judas would do, celebrated with His friends through bread and wine, the hope of a new covenant. A covenant that would cost Him His life. That would ask of Him His all. As I held the little cup of purple grape juice and the tiny square wafer of bread, tears began to flow. I realized for 3 years I had betrayed my Lord. I had tried to live my own way, with my own rules.
On that night, surrounded by a great crowd of actors and actresses dressed like first century Jews and Roman guards, I recommitted my life to Jesus. “Lord,” I cried in my heart, “I am so sorry for my betrayal, but I thank you that there is still hope for me.” In that moment, a tremendous love surrounded me as I released the burden of my own way and surrendered to God’s way for my life.
Over twenty years later, I still follow the monthly tradition of celebrating communion with my church family. Each time I remember how God reconciled me to himself. How he made a new way for me, that day I surrendered my life to him in the small carpeted gym, fully costumed as a Jewish maiden. He has helped me to lay down the bitterness that so easily creeps in through broken relationships.
“The Lord Jesus on the night he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, ‘This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’”
Even this morning, in a personal battle with hurt feelings I surrendered my bitterness to the Lord. I confessed, “Oh Lord, I am not able to forgive without your help, I am not able to love without your help, I am not able to move on without your help. Would you give me the gift of supernatural I Corinthians 13 love?”
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth, it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.” I Corinthians 13:4-7
In that moment, a tremendous peace surrounded me as I released the burden of my struggle and surrendered to God again. “I forgive as You have forgiven me,” I began to whisper as tears came down. It was a faith statement, feelings may or may not follow right away or ever. But this is a new pattern for my life.
As I take communion, I too want to be willing to partake even when I feel betrayed, abandoned, and hurt. I want to live for the New Covenant Jesus paid for with his blood. I want to proclaim every time I eat this bread and drink this cup, the Lord’s death until he comes. This is a tradition that has changed my life. With Tevye I agree, “Without our traditions, our lives would be as shaky as a …Fiddler on the Roof,”
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