Every pastor could tell a similar story, I suppose. My story has been repeated in a variety of ways over the years, but I had a condensed version of it occur three times in the past few days. Friday morning. A funeral for a talented lady in her early fifties, a producer at NBC Sports with quite a few Emmys to her credit. She was Jewish, her husband was Roman Catholic and I'm trying to figure out how the Lutheran in me fit into the mix. The husband, also a producer at NBC Sports, told me in advance that some close Jewish friends were upset a Rabbi would not be officiating. I began by telling those who had filled a crowded room, "I'd like to use an illustration from the Wide World of sports." I thought that might win over the crowd but of course, "Wide World of Sports" is an ABC staple, and not NBC.

My point was this: those gathered represented a variety of religious traditions. It's like being members of different team. "But," I shared, "we are all in the same league, as we share a common humanity. And now we share a common grief." I like to think that the analogy might have eased the sting for those who wished a Rabbi had been there. If it weren't for the Wide World of Sports introduction, I might have gotten away with it. That was Friday morning.

Friday afternoon came, and I officiated at a wedding inWhite Plains. A wonderful and loving young couple, both Roman Catholic. And I was honored to be there. Jesus never officiated at a wedding; at least the Bible never tells me so. But he was a guest at one at Cana in Galilee. Even turned some water into wine to add joy to the reception. I did not attend the reception on Friday. Some might have thought it was my way of adding joy ... but I hope not.

Saturday afternoon. I officiated at a wedding in Poughkeepsie. This time, fifty percent of the couple to be married was Lutheran and the other fifty percent of the couple to be married, the groom, was Roman Catholic. A nun read one of the lessons, and she and I had a delightful conversation, which presumably eased the disappointment of some that a priest wasn't there.

These past couple of days I've felt like Richard Boone as Palidin in the old TV series, "Have Gun, Will Travel." A gunslinger dressed in black. Palidin, that is. I was merely dressed in black, "Have Bible, will Travel." I would have mentioned that at the funeral, but Palidin was CBS. Gosh: NBC, ABC, CBS - those networks are as competitive as any Christian denomination!

Today is World Communion Sunday. The first Sunday of October always is so designated, although I'm sure it was emphasized a bit more in the middle decades of the last century than it is now. Maybe our world has become so polarized in so many ways, that even Christians can be accused of downplaying the reality that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ ... all having the same status before our God.

The late Donald Nicoll was a Roman Catholic, and a former rector of the Ecumenical Institute at Tantur outside Jerusalem, near Bethlehem. He has written several books on spirituality, and was well known in his native England. His family was Anglican, but he had converted to Roman Catholicism in his teens. In a wonderful book, "The Testing of Hearts," Donald relates the time his father was near death.

An Anglican vicar came to the house to be with the family: Donald's parents, his sister, and himself. The vicar prayed and they all joined in the Lord's Prayer. The vicar wanted to celebrate Holy Communion, but was hesitant. He did not want things to be awkward, knowing that Donald was a Roman Catholic. As Donald recalls the experience, the vicar need not have worried: "My father, lying there on his death bed - though still searching for breath and life - my father had taught me the meaning of Communion more certainly than any of the theologians whose books I have read or whose sermons I have listened to.... Could you conceive of anything more monstrous than the suggestion that on this sacred occasion, my father close to death, I should stand back from the lord's Table, separate myself from my beloved family, and make a division between us at the very moment when our hearts are aching for union, for Communion?"

Some months ago we had a visitor at Grace who was Korean. He received a warm welcome from the members of Grace; nothing out of the ordinary. I had no idea if he were a Christian, but it made no difference to me. He was here to worship at this vineyard of God at Curry and Gomer, and that is all that mattered. And when he came to the altar rail and held out his hand, I served him the bread, no questions asked. A pastor's role is tied up with serving and the communion rail is not the place to negotiate. My understanding of ministry is every pastor is merely a tenant, and is called to have stewardship over the bread the bread and wine of the local vineyard."

As I read our Gospel text this morning, among other things, Jesus is saying that tenant pastors are called to oversee the vineyard but, but, it is not their vineyard. It is God's vineyard. Think of a restaurant. When the waitress brings out the entrée, unless she owns the restaurant, she is only serving you food that belongs to the owner. And in that very same vein, the bread and the wine belong to our God. And Jesus invites, "Eat and drink ... all of you."

World Communion Sunday. And I pray that Christians around the world are being urged to remember that we are linked with brothers and sisters of all nationalities; all colors and languages. There is no better time to remind ourselves of this truth than in these days, when so much of the world is divided into a multitude of warring camps. World Communion Sunday, and to be sure, churches don't do this Communion thing in quite the same way. Some use wafers, some use bread. Some use grape juice, some use wine. Some say the bread and wine only symbolize the body and Blood of Jesus, others are adamant that the elements become the Body and Blood of Jesus. Those can be, and are, dividing issues. But on this day, Christians spanning the globe are declaring (or should be declaring), unity and community, our oneness in Christ despite our denominational labels such as RC, ELCA, LCMS, ABC (American Baptist Convention), NBC (National Baptist Convention). We even borrow the alphabet of the media to differentiate ourselves.

Most of us have experienced the pain of being excluded from God's Table. Not all churches and denominations are as undiscriminating as we as to who can receive the grapes and the grain. No doubt many of you have attended the wedding of a friend at a Roman Catholic Church, or the Baptism of a friend's child at an Orthodox Church, or the funeral of a friend at a congregation of the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. And when it came to the time for the bread and the wine, you have been excluded from Communion, and thus the community. There are good reasons for the exclusion, I suppose. At least that's what we've been told. But I have never heard a reason which would trump the Lord's invitation, "Take and eat, this is my body given for you. Take and drink, all of you. this is the cup of the covenant in my blood."

On this World Communion Sunday, in the midst of a warring world, we receive bread and wine. We eat and drink with brother and sister Christians throughout the world ... even those who might question our Christian credentials in the first place. As I see it, the problem is their's, and not ours.