The world is a sacramental place. By this I do not mean to say that you should be hearing some kind of spooky music everywhere you go, but rather that God has built into the world the inescapability of what might be called “rites of allegiance.” This in fact is where our word sacrament comes from—sacramentum was a Latin word that referred to the oath of allegiance that a soldier would take.
When we come to this table, we are not only declaring our allegiance to Christ, but He is weaving us into a tighter, organic bond with Him, where the allegiance becomes more and more profound. The point of the process is for you to grow to a point where the allegiance you feel toward other parts of the body here is comparable to the allegiance your right hand has to your left hand.
But there is not a special Christian magic in this supper that makes this happen. It is creational—built into the very order of things. St. Paul tells us that pagans pursuing their idolatrous rites experience exactly the same thing. When a man and a woman come together, they become one flesh, whether or not they are Christians. This is a creational reality.
In the same way, when a man sits down at a table with his god, and eats there, he is being woven into a tight, organic allegiance to that god. The table might be a real table—a gaming table, or a fund-raising dinner for abortion rights—or it might be a metaphorical table. A bed might be the table, for example, or perhaps a television set.
The fact that this just happens because of the way God made the world is why the apostle tells us not to try to eat from two tables—the table of the Lord and the table of demons. It can be physically done, for a time, but the rivalry between the competing allegiances will destroy a man.
This is because, as the Lord put it, no man can serve two masters.