The gospel reading this week is yet another in the long speech in which Jesus identifies himself as the bread of life. But paired with the Old Testament lesson for the week, Lady Wisdom's invitation to dinner, Jesus' insistence on eating and drinking his flesh and blood drove me to study anew how the church understands the ultimate dinner invitation: The Lord's Supper.

Charis on a balance beam

So here I sit at Starbucks reading representatives of both traditions I am balancing: The Heidelberg Catechism and Luther's Small Catechism. I started in a non-denominational seminary where the discussion of theology around Communion was quite diverse. In a more “proper” reformed education, I had to learn the intricacies that separated Calvinists from Lutherans from Catholics from Zwinglians and Anabaptists. Today, it's no longer an academic question to compare and contrast Luther and reformed understanding of the sacrament. By Sunday, I have to something to say to God's people. And these people, unlike some seminary professors, are more interested in life than historical debates.

Here is the genesis of where I'm going with this:

1. At the Table, we are invited to forgiveness, real life and Christlikeness.
2. Something real and mysterious happens here. Something beyond reason.
3. These two traditions have a lot more in common with each other than they do with a bubble-gum church where worship is synonymous with singing and emotions drive sermons more than a thirst for wisdom.

When I moved in to my office a couple months ago carrying Calvin’s entire commentary set packed in a box for Huggies diapers, I knew I’d be in for a balancing act. Surprisingly, or maybe not so, I’m discovering so much more that we share in common than should separate us. For 500 years, we’ve looked at each other skeptically, but I think it’s time to look ahead to what we can do together rather than focus on our historical separation.