"Lost" and the Sacraments

NOTE: If you have not watched the television series Lost in its entirety, I strongly advise against reading this post. It spoils the ending of the series (a series I cannot recommend enough), and most of my discussion of the show won’t make much sense unless you have watched it through to the end.

I have been meaning to write this post since May 23, 2010, when the series finale of Lost aired, and it has been brewing in my mind ever since. Although we are more than a year removed from Lost, I believe the series has stood and will stand the test of time. But let's get to the point I want to make: the final episode of Lost was a beautiful, near-perfect metaphor for the sacraments and why sacramental worship is such an essential part of my relationship with God.

PART ONE: LOST

Remember the final episode of Lost? Everyone was waiting to see how the show’s creators would tie up all of the show’s mysteries and dangling plot threads, but instead the creators focused almost entirely on providing an emotional reunion and conclusion to the show’s characters and relationships. Some viewers were (justifiably) angry at what they saw as a cheap, lazy way to avoid the nearly impossible task of answering the show’s countless questions. But others, like me, were willing to accept that the show had always been at its strongest when it focused on the journeys of each of its fascinating, dynamic characters; for us, the mysteries weren’t really as important as saying goodbye to our Lost friends was.

Over the course of the final season leading up to that finale, the show simultaneously covered plots occurring in two different universes. One universe continued the story that had been covered by the first five seasons; some people were trapped on the island, some had gotten off the island, quite a few had died. The other universe provided an alternate reality; the plane never crashed on the island, which essentially erased all of the developments of the first five seasons, and we watched all of the characters interact with each other in a completely different setting. The big reveal in the finale—for both the audience and the characters—was that this second “alternate” universe was actually some kind of afterlife that all of the characters created together, some kind of purgatory that allowed them to see each other one last time after they died and before they all passed together into the final afterlife. As Christian Shepherd explains to Jack:

“This is a place that you all made together so you could find one another. The most important time of your life was when you were with these people. That's why you are all here.”

OK, so this has all been set-up for where I really want to go. The show had an absolutely brilliant method of awakening each character in the alternate universe to the knowledge that he or she had already died and was in an afterlife. Until that finale, most of the characters in the alternate universe assumed it was simply life; they were completely ignorant to everything that had already happened in their lives (that is, everything that happened over the course of the show) and were comfortable in what they assumed was normal life.

What it took to wake them up was a reliving of the most significant moments of their lives from the other universe, the original universe. Take Kate, for example. In this alternate universe, Kate eventually arrived at a situation in which she needed to deliver pregnant Claire’s baby. As she coached Claire through the delivery, suddenly she had a flashback: Wait, I’ve done this before! I already delivered Claire’s baby, on the island! And when she remembered that event, she suddenly remembered everything else that happened in the original universe: her life before the island, her experiences on the island, her relationships on the island, and everything that happened in between the island and her death (which we did not see on the show). And that knowledge informed her of a future reality: she would be reunited with the other castaways in the church. She became enlightened and reclaimed her identity, and after that, she walked around with an infectious peace; she knew she was in an afterlife, and she had no reason to be worried or afraid any longer. All that remained was to meet with the other castaways, whom she now remembered.

And so it was with every other character who made it to this purgatory: essential moments from their lives were relived, and that experience was powerful enough to wake them up to the reality of everything that had transpired and everything that would transpire. Desmond saw Charlie swimming outside of his window; Jin and Sun performed a sonogram with Juliet as their doctor; Sawyer and Juliet touched hands; Charlie saw Claire with a baby; and one by one, all of the characters had flashbacks that woke them up to remember who they were, to understand where they were, and to anticipate what was going to happen. When the characters had those moments of enlightenment, they became completely serene and blissful; they realized they had arrived at a happy ending and would soon be reunited with those they loved.

It is important to note here that what the characters needed to wake them up was a complete re-experiencing of the original events; to simply tell them, “You’re in the afterlife,” would not have been enough. They needed to see, to taste, to smell, to feel those moments that were so foundational in their lives again to remember them.

PART TWO: THE SACRAMENTS

In the faith tradition in which I participate, the Churches of Christ, we practice two primary sacraments: baptism and the Lord’s Supper. (This is the case with most Protestant traditions.) It has always been very difficult to explain why the sacraments are so incredibly essential to the life of the Church and the life of individual believers—or at least it was until the finale of Lost aired. Why do they matter? What do they represent? Why do we spend so much time talking about how to do them correctly? The sacraments are essential because they are much more than just wine and bread or water; they simultaneously encapsulate multiple realities, multiple moments in time that are foundational to the story of God’s involvement in human history.

When I participate in the Lord’s Supper, three things happen simultaneously: first, in the present, I eat bread and wine with other believers, and I recognize my place in the Body of Christ through the reconciling work of his sacrifice (I Corinthians 11:17-34). Jesus is there with us in a very real way. Second, as I eat the bread and the wine, the visceral sensation of that taste flashes me back to the original Lord’s Supper, and suddenly I remember that Jesus walked the earth, that he invited people to table fellowship throughout his life, and that he broke bread with his disciples (Luke 22:19-20). Like Kate delivering Claire’s baby, my present activity reminds me of something foundational in my past, and I remember that Jesus ate the Supper. Third, that sudden enlightenment allows me to see what is going to happen in the future: we will be reunited in perfect worship at the wedding feast of the Lamb (Revelation 19:1-9). We know the ending of the story, and that ending is a good ending.

When I participate in baptism—and here I’m describing believer’s baptism through immersion, which is the tradition in the Churches of Christ—three things happen simultaneously: first, in the present, I am washed in water, and I am being saved from death in that moment (Acts 2:37-9). Second, as I am physically lowered and raised, that visceral sensation of being entombed in the water and then rescued from it flashes me back to the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus, and suddenly I remember that Jesus was killed on a cross, was buried for three days, and came back from the dead, and that through his sacrifice I was saved (Luke 23:44-24:12). Third, that sudden enlightenment allows me to see what is going to happen in the future: we will be saved, being raised from the dead and brought to new life (I Corinthians 15). Once again: we know the ending of the story, and that ending is a good ending.

As it was with the castaways, the knowledge of everything that is happening and has happened and will happen restores my sense of identity. The Supper reminds me that Jesus invited me to his table, that I have an important place in the Body of Christ, and that I have a standing invitation to the eschatological wedding feast. Baptism reminds me that Jesus saved me through his actions around Easter, that I am being saved as I invite him into my life, and that I will be saved when the dead are raised. I no longer have to wonder where I stand with God or what he is going to do with me; my place is clear. And simply speaking about these truths is not enough; we need to physically relive them, to taste and feel the reality of what occurs.

And, as it was with the castaways, that knowledge is a source of overwhelming peace and joy. No longer are we slaves to the imprisonment of sin and death; we have been set free to live lives of worship and authenticity. We know how this is all going to turn out. This is why the sacraments are so important to me; I need a constant reminder of what God is doing in my life, what God has done in the past, and what God will do. I fall asleep from time to time and need to be reawakened to reality.

Because there are times when I can empathize with Locke from season two:

LOCKE: If it's not real, then what are you doing here, Jack? Why did you come back? Why do you find it so hard to believe?
JACK: Why do you find it so easy?
LOCKE: It’s never been easy!