The New Testament contains four accounts of the institution of the Eucharist. All of them agree in the essential details, familiar to anyone with more than a passing familiarity with our worship. Tonight we heard the first of the four stories to be written (1 Cor 11:23-26), the one not from a Gospel, but from Paul’s 1st Letter to the Corinthians. For Paul the Lord’s Supper is a matter of Tradition—with a Capital “T”.

In common usage, “tradition” tends to mean “the way we have done things in the past.” People often talk about their traditions, usually meaning a set of practices or customs. How we know what these traditions are is a matter of process, which is the other, and I believe, more important sense of the word. “Big-T Tradition” is the process by which a community hands on what is important to it to the next generation.

It’s easy and even commonplace to confuse “small-t tradition” and “Big-T Tradition,” identifying the practices of one generation with the big truths they were intended to convey. The Tradition process is oriented to the future, while our traditions (small-t) tend to look to the past.

The composer Gustav Mahler, something of a musical ground-breaker, is said to have said, “Tradition is the handing on of fire, and not the worship of ashes.” In an earthier but similar vein, another artistic revolutionary of the early 20th century, Pablo Picasso, said “Tradition is not wearing your grandfather’s hat; tradition is begetting a baby.”

In the Church, “Big-T Tradition” is the process of passing on the central truths of the faith—telling the good news to our young and to newcomers to the faith, instructing them in the church’s doctrines and practices, leading people into a fuller knowledge of Christ.

In the church or any other group, an over-emphasis on “small-t tradition”—what we might call traditionalism—tends to ossify the group, not enhancing growth but preventing it. Small-t tradition should not be dismissed or ignored, because we need a sense of continuity, of things being reasonably recognizable. But it is not the main thing.

For Paul, the handing on of the story is the main thing, because Jesus is the church’s central reality. We “do this” as he commanded us, to proclaim his death, to celebrate his continuing presence in our midst, and to await his coming again. The people’s acclamations in Eucharistic Prayers 1 and 3 remind us of this truth—the “mystery of faith.”

Paul received this holy meal and the story behind it, and handed it on to his new converts. Continuing that holy process, the church handed it on to succeeding generations, teaching our children to revere and respect this central act of worship. Different streams of Christianity have interpreted and practiced the Lord’s Supper in many and various ways, but with only a few exceptions, all acknowledge the importance of the sacrament of the table.

As we recall Jesus’ institution of the sacrament, we also recall the act of service that Jesus did for his disciples. Let us not treat this rite as a peculiar once-a-year add-on, but a reminder that the Eucharist is food for the journey—provisions for the mission ahead of us, the proclamation of the Good News in Christ by word and example. The Israelites ate the first Passover to prepare themselves for the coming exodus. We eat this bread and drink this cup—our Passover meal—so that we may go forth renewed and refreshed to be God’s people in a darkened world—people of Big-T Tradition, charged with handing on the fire of God’s love.

May it burn afresh in our hearts this night and always.