At the opposite side of the table, to the left of Danjel, sat the people from neighboring farms, two men and two women. Inga-Lena had her place at the lower end of the table. There were ten guests in all at the devotional supper about to begin.
Danjel asked his wife to close the kitchen door, then he knelt beside his chair and prayed a silent prayer. All sat immobile, still and waiting. Outside, the snowstorm increased, and some loose boards at the corner of the house slapped as the gusts of wind pulled and shook them.
Danjel arose and said that Jesus had now arrived.
“Well meet our Saviour with the hymn about Gethsemane: ‘The Sacrifice Is Near. Bleed, My Heart!’”
The farmer of Kärragärde picked up his psalmodikon; he tuned the instrument and began to hum the hymn while he listened to the howling snowstorm outside as if he were trying to imitate the sound of the blizzard in the tune of the psalm. Then he drew the wooden bow across the strings, he played and sang:
“Wake, O Christian, while thy Saviour
Bids thee share His cup of woe!
Leave the haunts of sin forever—
He alone can peace bestow.
‘Watch and pray,’ He pleadeth ever,
‘Darkness seeks thy overthrow.’”
All joined in the singing, each according to his ability, and the hymn rose strong and powerful under the low ceiling with its cracked and sooty beams. The Åkians sang while the wind whirled round the cottage and filtered through cracks in walls and windows, causing the candle flames to flicker in the draft. The tallow candles lit up only part of the room, a small circle around the table, leaving the rest in semidarkness.
The people gathered here tonight had come to tarry with their Saviour, not to deny Him, like Peter, not to betray Him, like Judas. All those sitting here around Danjel’s table, waiting for him to give them the bread and wine, had experienced redemption through their own faith, the faith that Christ had suffered and died on the cross for their sins. In embracing this belief they felt that the body of Christ had taken possession of their own bodies, that they had sloughed off their old, sinful ones. Thus they were reborn, untainted, righteous, cleansed of all sins. The Lord’s new apostle, sitting here at table with them, had said to them: “Your sins are tied up in the linen napkin which was about Christ’s head when He was buried, and which He left in His grave.” And they all believed this.
Tonight again Christ bade them eat His body and drink His blood. This was the covenant between the Saviour and the saved, which must be resealed. It was simple for everyone to understand. Christ’s body was inside their bodies, while theirs were inside His, as His own words in Danjel’s Bible on the table verified: “He that eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, dwelleth in Me, and I in him.”
They were sundered from the church, no longer received at its altar ring. But the Lord was omnipresent and they could find Him everywhere, in all places under the roof of the heavens. Jesus had allowed Himself to be born in a stable, He could place His Communion table wherever He pleased, be it a byre, a woodshed, or a barn. He was with them wherever they sought Him, the Lord’s table stood wherever He was present.
And tonight He was with them again; they were sitting around His altar table. The ceiling of sooty beams above their heads was the vaulted ceiling of the Lord’s shining temple. This was a holy place.
“The hours pass, keep praying, sinners,
Follow Christ in happy mood.”
The hymn rang out to its close. Danjel moved his Bible close to the tallow candle, so that its light fell on the leaves, and he began to read in a clear and even voice the sacred words of the institution of the Lord’s Supper: “Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the night when He was betrayed, took the bread, gave thanks and brake it and gave unto His disciples, and said: ‘This is My body, which is given for you’. .”
The males had precedence in receiving the sacrament. With slow movements Danjel took from the plate a rye biscuit, broke it, and held a small piece to the mouth of soldier Pihl. “Jesus Christ, Whose body you receive, keep you in eternal life.”
The old soldier sat with his hands folded and his eyes closed. He bent forward while his lips received the crust of the rye cookie from the peasant’s hand. Severius Pihl was toothless; slowly his gums ground the bread to pieces. From the earthen jug Danjel now poured wine into a tin mug, and when the old man had swallowed his bread, Danjel held the mug to his mouth. The soldier drank the wine eagerly in one swallow, then gave thanks to the Saviour in a deep sigh.
“Jesus Christ, Whose blood you receive. .”
The other Communion guests had folded their hands and, deeply aware of Christ’s presence, made not a single motion. A gust of wind shook the loose boards, which squeaked and banged. The candle flames flickered in a sudden draft from the window, the shadows moved quickly back and forth over the white tablecloth. The blizzard raged without, but the people locked in here were in a peaceful room, sanctified to the God Who had redeemed them, Who had gathered all their sins in His bloody napkin cloth.
Danjel Andreasson had administered bread and wine to the men; he continued with the women, and was about to give the bread to Ulrika of Västergöhl when a new sound from outside was heard above the storm: a man spoke with a coarse voice. The little peasant’s hand, holding Christ’s body, stopped in mid-air as for a moment he listened. Then he went on with the Communion as if nothing had been heard. He gave Ulrika a piece of the broken bread, and was about to hand her the wine when he was interrupted by another noise: someone knocked, then banged on the outside door.
All turned their heads and listened. Danjel put down the mug with Christ’s blood on the table. The blows on the door came in even intervals. But Danjel said nothing and his expression did not change.
Apprehension came over the others; they began to whisper.
Inga-Lena said: “Please, Danjel, do not open!”
His neighbors looked at Danjel, fear in their eyes, but he reassured them: they need not be afraid, they must remain fearless, sitting quietly on their chairs. The Lord Jesus was with them in this room tonight, no one need fear harm. Whosoever stood outside and tried to break in had no power against the will of the Almighty. This they must know.
The master of Kärragärde went with sure steps out into the entrance hall. Before touching the door lock he asked gently: “Who is disturbing the stillness of our house this night?”
“Sheriff Lönnegren! Open!”
“Whom do you search for at this late hour, Mr. Sheriff?”
“You, Danjel Andreasson! I order you in the name of the law, open your door!”
Other voices were heard, several men were on the porch.
“I do not obey the laws of man.”
“My official duty compels me to break down the door if you don’t open!”
“Then I must help you, Mr. Sheriff. I cannot allow you to commit a great outrage and increase your sins against God.”
Danjel opened the door. He saw horses and sleighs outside in the yard, but the horses had no bells, the visitors had driven without sleigh-bells so as not to announce their arrival.