Luke's figure of speech for the Lord's Supper, "the breaking of the bread" ( Lk 24:35; Acts 2:42, 46), seems to have resonated in the early church. Perhaps church leaders like Ignatius of Antioch (c. 35-108) were most influenced by Luke's Gospel, either because they loved its elegant story or they had greater access to the third gospel than the other three. In any case, Ignatius encouraged the Ephesian Christians to "break the bread" as though it were quite clear what he was referring to. Indeed, if the Ephesians had been working only from the epistle which Paul addressed to them, we might wonder how they would have known either of the sacrament or Luke's name for it; "the breaking of the bread."

 

Eucharistic practice seems to have been established very early in the ancient church in contradiction of the modern view of the apostolic and post-apostolic church as a disordered and charismatically-organized community. We think of the early Christians as worshipping seated on bean bag chairs, arms swaying, singing meaningfully "Kumbayah," and sharing communal meals. Yet here in the writings of Ignatius of Antioch we are confronted by a number of elements that are characteristic of a highly organized ecclesial community, with obedience to leaders enjoined, a unified confession of faith, and a high sacramental theology, including describing the Lord's Supper as a medicine of immortality and an antidote to death. So much for bean bag chairs and "Kumbayah"!

 

What a wonderful figure of speech "the medicine of immortality and the antidote to death" is! It speaks of a power in the Lord's gifts; a power given to those who receive the bread broken for them. How different this view is from our modern mauling of the divine Word, which converts a divine gift into a human work. Christ gives His body to us under the bread. We turn around and offer God our obedience in taking it. "See what a great good work I am doing for you, O Lord, in following Your ordinance by taking the Supper!" There is no need to turn this gracious gift into your work in God's presence, indeed such an approach returns to the law that which is the purest gospel gift. What if you had been bitten by some deadly serpent and a quick thinking doctor administered the antidote to you, would you then crow about how you had saved yourself from death? If some researcher found the "immortality pill" and began to dispense it to people who wanted it, who among those who took it would consider it a good work on their part to receive it? Would they not focus on the value of the medicine in giving an unspeakably great gift? Of course! This shows our monstrous perversity, that we turn God's gift into what we offer to God.