“Can we get some Jesus bread, Daddy?” My little buddy
skipped down the church hallway holding his daddy’s hand. His dad looks at me,
smiles and explains, “That’s what he calls the communion bread.” Britton adds,
“I like it! It’s good!” I love seeing my “graduates” from the two year old room
excited to be at church and experience God’s presence in beautiful, child-like
ways. My own kids like it, too. Jacob calls it “holy bread.” Several weeks ago
we had a conversation about how holy
it is: that when it is blessed and consecrated, we treat it with special care;
we ensure that it is consumed and not disposed of. This past Sunday Jacob asked
if we could have the bread to take home so after church we were given a baggie
of broken pita bread.
Lunch that day? Yep. We actually happened to have grape
juice, too.
We’re dippers, not sippers. Intinction is the method of
choice.
Which reminded me of the time my daughter was about six. When we got home from church she pulls out
tortillas and pours some grape juice, sets it on the table and calls us all into
the kitchen. The table had been made ready. Now, there was no consecration of
the elements, no liturgy. Don’t even remember if we prayed. But I tell you as
we gathered around that table and dipped our Mamacita Flour Tortillas into some
off-brand Welch’s in a glass tumbler, God’s presence was palpable.
There’s such mystery wrapped up in the sacrament of Holy
Communion. So many different perspectives on what it actually means, what it
does, why we do it. And yet one thing cannot escape us: His presence.
One of my favorite roles as a servant is when I get to
participate as a communion steward with my husband. As the congregation comes
forward, he hands them the bread, I hold the cup (for dipping, not sipping. I
only had one sipping attempt last week. It’s always a challenge to respectfully
wrestle it out of their hands and hurry and get them another piece of bread.
And there was that one time when that lady started to take her piece of bread out of her mouth so she could dip it. I’m
pretty sure I put my hand over the cup).
Because of the diverse background of our congregation and the number of
first time visitors we have on any given week, there’s always a bit of uncertainly
for them as they try to figure out what they’re supposed to do. I, myself, don’t
really know what the “proper” response is to someone who offers you the
elements of communion. I grew up kneeling at an altar with those little cups
and pellet wafers so no one ever handed them to me. However, I’ve come to
accept the body and blood of Christ with an affirming “Amen” – a yes! So shall
it be! But I would say most of the folks that hear my words “The blood of
Christ shed for you” respond with “Thank you.” After all these
years, I heard that “thank you” with different ears this time. I’m holding Jesus out to
them, I’m sharing Him and offering them an opportunity to know Him in a new and
deeper way. Holding that cup as a vessel of His grace and presence.
Later that night I opened the pantry and saw that baggie of
Holy Bread. I took out a piece, felt that awed sense of reverence and whispered
“Thank You.” Thank You, Jesus, for Your blood and sacrifice. Thank You for Your
presence. Thank You for every person that has ever offered me the opportunity
to know You more. Let me be a vessel. Let me offer You to others in everything that I do and everywhere that I
go. Amen.
