On Friday, September 27, Hurricane Helene roared through Asheville bringing damaging winds and torrential rain that caused widespread flooding throughout western North Carolina. In our own small neighborhood, two houses took direct hits from massive trees. Another two large trees fell on power lines resulting in significant damage. While we had previously met many of our neighbors, surviving the aftermath of Helene has forged new relationships between all of us.
In the days following the storm, varied groups of neighbors met daily for meals. Those of us with gas stoves opened our kitchens. Stores were closed; streets largely impassable, so we all shared our food supply. While these meals and ensuing conversations didn’t contain overtly religious content, I’ve come to see them as “eucharistic meals” — a time where anyone available and in need was able connect, pool resources, and share available news. Children hollered and ran around the house. We laughed, cried, occasionally cursed, and bemoaned our aching muscles and tired bodies. The meals were a respite from long, difficult days.
As a pastor and theologian, I have spent my life practicing and reflecting on the role of the sacraments in sustaining and nurturing Christian faith. While I have long held an interest in connecting the sacraments to daily life, my experience during the aftermath of Helene is pushing me to forge new insights and chart new directions in connecting faith and daily life.
While I have long held an interest in connecting the sacraments to daily life, my experience during the aftermath of Helene is pushing me to forge new insights and chart new directions in connecting faith and daily life.
I find that I have no interest in a theology that continues to insist on the church as the sole dispenser of sacraments as occasions of grace. In my recent book Word and Sacrament: Tracing the Theological Movements of Reformed Worship, I argue that theological beliefs have historically guided the development and practice of the sacraments. Considering this precedence, I conclude that the church should focus on its biblical and theological commitment to care for the earth and care for the poor as the basis for congregational and sacramental renewal. When I finished writing this manuscript a few months ago, I had no idea how my thesis would be tested by Hurricane Helene.
If there is a gift from Helene in my life, it comes in the form of the new relationships forged around my dining room table and through our friends’ and neighbors’ shared experiences of hauling water and surviving. I see the world around me less through ecclesial lenses and more through the needs of our common humanity.
The sacraments remain sacred to me. However, they have been refracted and refocused through the lens of Helene.
The sacraments remain sacred to me. However, they have been refracted and refocused through the lens of Helene. Out of the ashes and loss, something new is emerging. I hope the green bud I see is a sacramental way of life drawing from the insights of the early church where the primary signs of following Jesus took shape around a bath and a common table. This community comes without pretense or proclamation. It occurs outside of institutional channels and without permission. It is messy, exhausting, and life-giving. It often happens without prompting — a neighbor with a large pot of chili sending a text to ask if she could bring it over. The making of a salad and baking of cornbread. The ten people gathered around a table to share a meal.
Many churches in western North Carolina continue to care for those most affected by the hurricane, partnering with other agencies and social service groups as we begin the process of rebuilding. Amid this enormous effort, how will we prioritize practices that We know that climate change creates the conditions that make these storms increasingly dangerous? We simply cannot obliviously continue the level of consumption and pollution that has created this crisis. Our daily habits must change now. Similarly, we must acknowledge the effects on those who live on the margins and suffer the most direct consequences of climate change. I hope that Christian congregations will be at the forefront of these changes and will rediscover a sacramental life that draws from the gift of the earth to share with all who are in need. In the meantime, you can find me hauling water and waiting for the next eucharistic meal with my neighbors.
eucharist after the storm
there were no words of institution
nor any remembrance of a sacrifice long ago
simply a shared meal in a time of turbulence
we were neither decent nor orderly
we laughed and we cried
we cursed the storm that had taken so much
we lacked permission from any authority
yet I will insist that it was eucharist
in light of the thanksgiving that burned deeply in my hear