Write Now!
This blog started as a 'Lenten Writing Project', where we wrote each day in Lent. Now that Summer is here, let's keep up the discipline of writing with a weekly writing challenge! A prompt will be posted each week and anyone is welcome to join in and post their writing here or participate just by reading it.
Every writer has their own special light to add to this blog and all of your writing offerings are appreciated, whether poetry, prose, essay, thoughts, lists or comments and encouragement.
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ReplyDeleteThe Eyes of Christ!
ReplyDeleteAs my hand reached for the bread, my Pastor repeated Christ’s words, “given for you”. I dipped the bread in the wine as I heard, “…shed for you and for all people…” I chewed, I swallowed, I made the sign of the cross, and then I reached for the chalice of wine.
It was my first time to assist with serving Holy Communion. It was also a special occasion celebrating All Saints Day with four other congregations.
Standing together at the front of the church with my pastor, I remembered the words of my catechism instruction: “In, with, and under the consecrated bread and wine, Christ himself is truly and really present.”
Turning to face the congregation, I saw the long line of people begin coming forward. Suddenly I felt awestruck and overwhelmed by the sacredness of what we were about to do.
One by one, people appeared before me with outstretched hands holding consecrated bread. As each one dipped bread into the chalice, I spoke, “The Blood of Christ, shed for you.” Eyes met mine as I heard a quiet “Amen.” Over and over again, hands reached, eyes met, and a quiet “Amen” was breathed.
My eyes met the eyes of others: blue eyes, brown eyes, young and innocent eyes, watery old eyes. One by one, one after another, I continued to repeat the words, “The Blood of Christ, shed for you.” As each one reached, chewed, swallowed, I saw them one by one, by the dozens, by the hundreds, as my lips continued to repeat the words “… shed for you.”
I caught my breath, as I began to sense a miraculous transformation – it was if Christ was looking back at me through the eyes of each one.
I was filled with amazed awe at what God was doing, how God was present. It was as if time stopped, over and over. The intense moment was filled with the mystery of God coming to us, giving Christ’s self for each one of us, and making us all one. Each pair of eyes reflected God’s glory; God’s presence was a living reality in the sharing of the sacrament.
The wondrous words of Christ will never sound the same again. “Take and eat; this is my body, given for you.” … “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, shed for you and for all people for the forgiveness of sin.”
Communion:
ReplyDeleteGiving one’s body
Giving one’s blood
I have done this
In nursing my children
Sweet lips eager for nourishment
Or demanding cries
Basic need fulfilled
I gladly give forth milk from my body
A miracle!
Though my tummy-filling sustenance
Is not the
Spirit-filling
Prophesy-fulfilling
soul-filling
meal
that Jesus gave to us
but there are eager lips
demanding cries
basic needs
fulfilled
Basically - very nice!
DeleteTh-amen
ReplyDeleteI attended a Baptist church occasionally as a child and had Welch’s grape juice there. (I could tell it was Welch’s.) And when I visited her, my great-aunt occasionally took me to her huge, formal (she’d wear a blouse) Lutheran church on Chicago’s Northwest side, but I never had communion with her. The pastor spoke from what looked like a small floating tower of carved wood, stage left of the congregants and, um, in the air. I sometimes looked up and imagined him throwing wafers Frisbee style from his post. But that didn’t happen.
The first time I went to a Lutheran church service with Mark was about 12 years later, and I was 20 years old. By that time, I thought religion was a total crock, only something to be studied for hermeneutical and anthropological purposes. It was Northwestern’s campus ministry and I assumed that, because I was an adult and all, I would just go up and have communion with him. (He was trying to introduce me to Lutheranism.) But he said, no, that communion was only for those who had been baptized in the church and that I would have to stay in the pew. And I thought, ‘Oh, really? You’re doing a great job of selling this to me, Bud. So now I’m not good enough? What is this?’ I turned my head and actually had tears in my eyes because I felt that I was invited and then cast aside. But then my thought shifted.Communion became a barrier to entry. And like most of the cutthroat, competitive students at that school, I thought I’d have to figure out how to make my way in.
Two years, an Adult Communion Prep Class, and some softening later, I was baptized at a community church in Evanston, and had communion for the first time. It was a chunk of dark, homemade bread—not the bland wafer—and it crumbled in the wine, little pieces floating away in the goblet. There’s God’s body, breaking up and sinking. Maybe I did it wrong. Does Joan Brandt, the crotchety altar assistant who was married in this church in ’52, thereabouts, and—you just knew—the pastor thought was a pain in the ass drink the body/bread sludge after everyone’s piece fell apart like mine? I think I’d gag. I knew I shouldn’t think about the practical matters of this ritual, but think about the meaning of Christ’s journey. Later, I was married in that church, in ’95.
Today, I still think about goofy things like that when I have communion, largely because I am goofy. The wafers at Holy Spirit have alleviated the crumb anxiety, but for years here, I think to myself, What do you say when you receive the wafer? ‘Thanks?’ I mean, you say thanks when you get your change at the Starbucks drivethru. Seems a bit transactional. ‘Amen?’ I still feel like a church outsider—ahem, “seeker”—and amen seems like I’m declaring or alluding to something unclear that requires by social contract a response of Amen, even though the person on the receiving end may not know what Amen specifically refers to. So I sometimes just say thank you. Or mumble ‘Th-amen.’
To make you more comfortable about reading a story about communion than what I have written so far, I will mention that the part with the most meaning for me is when I walk up to whomever is handing out the wafer and I hold out my hand. I think that moment is most symbolic of where I’m at and feel closest to God.
~ Rosemarie Buchanan
Thank you Rosemarie!
DeleteThe communion experience for me is like a major political mystery. I grew up ELCA Lutheran, my parents are "known" among PNW Lutherans, I'm in seminary - I "know" what communion is supposed to be and mean and how to articulate the theological shroud around it that so many get deterred by or over-spiritualize it. But here's what I think: we don't know what communion really is, we only know that Jesus asked us to remember him when we eat and drink with one another. Comprehension of whether the wafer and cheap wine are changed by Trans or Con - substantiation, to me in the moment, is irrelevant. Because I will never fully understand. Therefore, I allow my children - yes, even my 6 month old son, to actually ingest communion at HSLC. I get strange looks when I mama-bird wafer and wine to the baby, and sometimes I want to put my hand up and stop the minister from blessing my kids, as if that blessing is intended to mean "they're not ready for the real stuff" though I know a blessing isn't necessarily a condolence prize for sitting in church without communion. But I let them because how could I ever say there is an appropriate age at which they will "get" the meal like I "get" it, because I don't!! Neither do any of the theologians who write about it, if you read their stuff, you'll see their thoughts are centered on the mystery of the meal, too. The words of institutions came from Jesus at a big final meal with all of his friends. He asks us to remember him when we wine and dine with OUR friends and family. Communion isn't (always) a stale, quiet, reverent, polite crumb-less wafer dipped delicately in wine. Communion is when we have friends over for a potluck and pray before we eat. Communion happens in the gathering of people to be together over the blessings of food - be it our kids PB&J's, nachos at the ballgame, or a child-free double date. I pray for the day when we can dismiss the classes that teach our kids how to be polite when they eat a cracker in front of the pastor, and embrace the silly face my daughter makes when she dips her wafer in the wine and not juice, and the smacking of her lips down the aisle afterwards saying, "that was good. can I go back for another one?" THAT is community/communion/holy meal/feast to me.
ReplyDeleteI love your post. When I realized that Jesus never said, "now when your kids get into 3rd grade, they can do this too", it was very freeing : ) I also love the idea of every meal being an oportunity for the same thing.
Deleteby Pat Mason
ReplyDeleteThere's a couple of experiences that come to mind.
1) I had gone to Holden Village with the youth group for their weekend trip. If you don't know about Holden Village it is a small, self-sufficient village located in a remote location almost at the top end of Lake Chelan. In May they open the village up to high school youth groups from around Washington and surrounding states to come for the weekend. So there you are with 200+ teenagers and some very dedicated group leaders and parent chaperones.
There are numerous church services held during the weekend, each with a different theme. At one service each church is requested to be in charge of and present a different part of the service. For example, one group might do the prayers, another may sing a hymn or other music, and another may be the greeters or ushers.
At this particular service our group was asked to do the Apostles Creed. The kids worked hard in their spare time before the service preparing their part.
They said that we needed to arrive just a few minutes before the service to get some instruction. So we did. I arrived with the kids and one of the villagers gave them their instructions.
Then she looked at me and asked if I would be willing to help out with communion as the group that was assigned to it was short a few people. Of course I said that I would, not knowing exactly what I would be doing, but not expecting to be directly involved as they usually have the kids do as much as they can.
Well, as it turned out, right before communion and as we went forward to take our places, I was handed a smallish loaf of bread which I was to break into small pieces and offer to everyone who came forward. Then they would go down the line to receive the wine.
It sounded easy enough, but I remember the panic I felt when I looked down at this tiny loaf of bread and then looked up and out into this large mob of teenagers, villagers and other adults who would soon be coming forward one-by-one to receive their communion meal.
How would this little loaf feed this many people? What if I tore off too big of pieces and ran out at the end? What if I dropped it? What if....??
I really was worried.
As it turned out, I needn't have been.
I remember hesitantly taking my place in line and saying a quick prayer.
"Lord, help me!", was all I had time to pray.
Soon people began to come forward and I would break off a piece of bread and hand it to them saying, "This is the body of Christ, given for you". I tried to look each person in the eyes as they came forward and to smile as I handed them the bread. Some people smiled back, some people crossed themselves, some people came forward very somber, obviously deep in thought. Others came forward with family or friends and with much joy.
I soon became so involved in the quiet interactions between myself and those who took communion from and with me that day, that I totally forgot about my worries about the bread. When the communion was over, I actually had bread left over!
You could tell that for many people this was a deeply personal and a very meaningful part of the service. It was an honor for me to have been asked to help. I have assisted other times during communion at our own church since then and have gotten a lot out of it each time.
It's funny how I didn't really appreciate communion until I had seen it from a different perspective.
2) One time when one of our daughters was under the age for taking communion, we were at church and it was time for our row to go forward. I asked her if she would like to come along and receive a blessing. She said, "No thanks, but could you bring some bread back for me anyways?"
Kids...
Communion
ReplyDeleteWhen I receive communion I receive the body and blood of Christ shed for me. I try to savor the moment, tastes, textures, and take in the body and blood of Christ.
JackieD
Given for You
ReplyDeleteHe cupped his hands
and received the body of Christ
from the hands of a holy woman,
“Given for you”.
As he returned to his seat
the twenty three year old
passed by an eighty seven year old friend.
The young man put his hand
on the older man’s back and smiled.
The elder friend, looking down,
quietly nodded.
In that simple moment,
in that common physical act
the generations came together.,
youth merged with age
passion merged with wisdom
and
love became incarnate.
The body of Christ moved from bread and wine
to friendship and grace.
The body of Christ became the hand
of a twenty three year old holy man,
“Given for you”
I wrote this a couple of years ago after seeing this charmed interaction at church. It made my day.
At our church I like to use the grape juice if a young person is holding the chalice and isn't getting many takers. Otherwise I thing they look left out...
The same... Every time
ReplyDeleteA calming ritual
For quiet thoughtfulness
Looking inside
Hoping
Looking at the world
Hoping
And centering me for a time
Such a rarity
Every Sunday Communion is a major commonality between HSLC and the church I grew up with in India. When I first read the HSLC Home page, it mentioned the practices of Communion on the webpage, I was fully drawn to this church. Reading the Bible, saying daily prayers make me strong in faith but when I take the communion I psychologically come to believe that yes—Christ died for me on the cross. His Body and Blood is shared and given to me as I am one among the chosen ones. The sacred fill that Communion brings in oneself is enriching and soul satisfying.
ReplyDeleteAs I started growing, I felt the need to give God my Best for Communion. I started practicing No-Food before church service. This was not told to me my parents or practiced at home, but I started following it. This is a ritual that I follow and will hopefully be able to do so in future too.
Reconciliation
ReplyDeleteby Marlene Obie
In our day, we had to earn it, by learning it,
Luther's meanings, for the Apostles Creed and
The Sacraments, and be confirmed first.
There we were, robed in white, repeating
some of our memorization, nervous standing there
wondering more about how to do it with finess,
not dropping the bread or spilling the wine,
than the holiness of the act, almost laughing
out loud when one boy poured it quickly into his mouth
like a cowboy downing a shot of whiskey.
Then we were bonafide members of the church,
walking up confidently once a month with our
completed communion card which we gave the ushers.
My own children also had to wait, only a year
of confirmation, no memorization, a ritual
I expected of them. A classmate of one fainted.
A warm day in Medford, Oregon, in robes, kneeling
mouth open to have wafer put on tongue, someone
jerked back, not a bolt from the Spirit, but
a carpet-induced static shock from the Minister.
Was it really meaningful to them at that point?
I didn't ask then. Figured God would take care
of that garden as He did mine.
The Church Act of Communion maturing as I was,
registrations cards abandoned, increased frequency,
all were invited, age limit dropping, for me
it became the inner netting, holding me together,
renewed every week as I received and gave out,
"the blood of Christ, shed for our reconciliation."
So quiet, so meaningful, so powerful, this gift
freely given to most, not to children "too young"
to understand. Yes, I had to rebel and pass
to my granddaughter--that visible grace extended.
And I smile to see her offering it now,
holding the cup, saying the words.
Celebrating Christ with
The Ever Movable Feast of Remembrance.
Oooh...movable feast. I love picturing Hemingway at the table..
Delete-ruth
Communion has always been a great mystery to me. However, I was so happy one day to find out that Communion is really a great mystery to everyone – that we cannot fully understand communion, but we are blessed with being able to participate in it. I remember in 3rd grade, taking THE class and *finally* getting to taste wine and participate in communion – the excitement was in that order (I was a pastor’s daughter after all) we were all sitting in my dad’s office and he taught us what we needed to know. Specifically, I remember Dad telling us that sometimes the wafer might get stuck on the roof of your mouth. All the kids nodded knowingly as I looked around. After that, it became a part of communion experience that I strived for but, even if I tried, the wafer NEVER stuck to the roof of my mouth. Its funny how the most random statements make a disproportionately large impact on impressionable minds. Anyway, it was the Sunday before my *first* communion that my great-grandma Mae (“Old Grandma”, we used to call her) was to drive up for the big ceremony. I was in third grade and finally, almost ready for communion. This Sunday, however, I was with my dad at a nearby Episcopalian church. Dad was friends with the pastor and we sometimes went there. When we were at the railing – the type with the teeny tiny cups and space-age wafers – I said ‘Dad, can I have communion?” and Dad said, “sure!”. I held out my hand and took communion for the first time. THEN MY MOM FOUND OUT. It was as if I had lost my virginity before marriage!! Grandma was going to be DRIVING up to see my FIRST communion that was supposed to be NEXT week! I have no idea the argument that ensued between my parents, but suffice it to say that Dad was not a religious hero in the eyes of the women on both sides of the family. I don’t know what happened after that – I got over it in time for my second-first communion – probably because I was concentrating so much on the wafer-stuck-to-the-roof-of-the-mouth enigma. And then went on my merry way as a bonnafide Communion-taking Christian with a new little cross necklace to prove it. And the whole episode of my life never bothered me again.
ReplyDeleteThen I had kids. I never gave a second-thought about the 3rd grade rule though. I was pretty sure that Jesus covered it at the Last supper…”oh, and by the way – the kids? Make sure they’re in 3rd grade before they do this.” But all the drama way back then must have been floating around in my subconscious somewhere. (To be continued...)
(...continued) I had a friend, and we talked often about theology and religion and we were discussing communion. She said (to greatly paraphrase our long conversations), that since communion is a mystery that we can never fully understand, and since Jesus never said anything about 3rd grade, who are we to be ‘communion gatekeepers’? Who indeed! I had never thought of it that way before. Truthfully, before that moment, I had never understood people letting little tiny kids (or any pre-3rd grader) taking communion. Now, however, even though I still like the idea of a class when a kid is older so that they can at least have a framework of what Lutheran theology says on the subject (I favor calling the class, “don’t get the wafer stuck to the roof of your mouth and other communion tips”) I realized that even if a child is saying ‘me too’ or they think communion is a snack – that’s at least more honest than coming to the table thinking you have all the answers. I decided that if my kid wanted communion, I would give it to them.
ReplyDeleteDisclaimer here: this is my own parenting theology…I in NO WAY judge others who want to wait for 3rd grade. Really, I don’t. Just because I decided this is supercool for me and my family doesn’t mean I think it’s the same supercool for everyone. There is enough judgment in this world without feeling judged for the decisions you make with your own wise heart.
Anyway, wouldn’t you know it, but a few months after our conversation, Clara said, “Mama, can I have communion too?” She was almost 4. It was an incredible moment – like she had said these magic words with tinkling bells. But then I began to panic, wanting to recap what it was with her like a pro-football/communion coach. “OK – um…see, Jesus died for us so we take communion to be more like Jesus and…” My friend, who was sitting nearby heard my panic and helped me out by giving me the perfect words, “Just tell her it’s a celebration”. I relaxed and told her that. There was a tiny part of me that was letting her do this to ease all the pressure I had in third grade not to lose my communion virginity before it was the correct Sunday when my Grandma was driving up to watch. Not that Clara’s “first” communion in third grade won’t be special too, There will still be grandparents, a cross necklace, and probably a ham and some Jell-O afterward (Didn’t they have those at the Last supper? No? Especially not ham? Hmmm…weird how traditions change…) There is nothing wrong with tradition. I love it because it connects me to my family – my own family, my church family, and through communion I feel connected all the way back to Jesus and his disciples. But if the traditions become rigid ill-fitting uniforms, that’s when it’s a good idea to see if we need to let out the seams a bit. Of course now that my 5 year old is taking communion, my 2 year old is going to say, “Me too!” That’s fine because if Jesus’ body and blood was broken and shed for ALL people, we don’t have to wait until they’ve entered the 3rd grade.