We know that God created food in order to nourish us. But is this all God does with food? Not at all—look at how much of the world was created in order to be tasted. In the course of a single day, we may experience and taste tangerines, mayonnaise, bacon, plums, salmon, steak, salt, salads, bread, beer, and chocolate. The list that could be made is simply enormous, to the appearance of being practically infinite.
The same God who created the world in this way also set this table. So why do we have just two elements here, bread and wine? Where is the variation? Where are all the sauces and tastes? We know that this Supper cannot be boring, because that would dishonor God, but why does it sometimes seem boring to us?
A sacrament is never presented to us raw. As Augustine taught so clearly, Word and sacrament accompany one another, and without the Word, there is no sacrament. Now it is the Word which gives the sacrament its taste, its savor. Of course, the Lord’s Supper can objectively nourish us whether it tastes like anything or not. But God does not want us to live like this. He could have made our earthly food nourishing—and boring. We could have been born into a world with nothing to eat but tasteless nutrition bars. But God did not do this.
Neither does He do it here. Everything that the Word of God contains goes with this meal—contrition, joy, grief, gladness, thanksgiving, dominion, glory, pleasure, kindness, love, severity, justice, music, pain, and through it all, worship. To separate the Word from the sacrament, whether in practice, or in the attitude of the heart, is to eat in such a way as to insult the overflowing benevolence of God. Do not settle for this. Come, taste and see.