communion sunday today, and the first time i've been in church in longer than i'm going to publically admit. sad, but true, and could include my long explanation of struggles with church, finding a church, yearning for something...okay, i'm not going here.
so communion sunday today. my youngest son was in the service with us which means a decision of whether he should take communion or not.
i lean over and whisper, "do you remember what communion means? that by eating the bread and drinking the juice, it's remembering..." and the whole explanation because i'm worried he doesn't get it and feel some huge weight that he should.
"yes, i remember, mom." he's excited, and that worries me. should we be excited about it? sure reverent, holy, silent...but excited?
during the time for reflection and examination of our hearts, he puts his hands firmly together and starts praying with brows furrowed (he's serious about this), and i can't help wonder what words a seven year old is confessing to god almighty. even at his age, he seems to have the clearest, most untainted view of god -- maybe because he nearly died when he was two and has seen a glimpse of life beyond, and maybe that glimpse remains inside him somewhere.
as the gleaming brass tray holding tiny square "breads" comes toward us, i see that gleam reflected in my son's eyes. i know what he's thinking. i know he's so excited to hold the shiny plate, pick up that little square cracker-thing, and be part of this exciting grown-up -- yet somewhat child-like ritual. he's not thinking snack time, but it's still so new to him, all the charm is there, every part. it comes out in kid language that makes me cringe.
"mom, i can hold my own cup."
"do we get to keep the cup?"
he moves his cup over to do "cheers" with mine which receives my "look."
"can we eat the little bread now?"
he looks around, smiling widely at people.
"hmmm, sour!" he says after drinking, smacking his lips.
as a girl, i remember my mom's horrified expression when i said loudly, "hey mom, i really like grape juice now. i never liked it until today."
i've partaken (you need a word like "partaken" when talking about communion) in a great variety of places, different parts of the world, sometimes with wine, mostly with grape juice, sometimes bread that's like bread, other times ripped up tortillas and such.
at times, i've wanted a whole loaf of bread, a huge goblet of wine -- i needed more of god than the mini-sized portions.
whatever means or method, i love communion. it always makes me stop short, gaze inside, review what is always here but not always recognized. i'll still battle my church issues. and i'm not certain my son's pure glee is what we should be like during communion partaking or not. but the act, the remembering, the symbolic becoming physical -- all this i love. guess, it's rather exciting when you think about it.
later, i asked my son what he thought about communion today, "it puts this kind of joy inside." he says so easily, and i marvel at that. then he adds, "i just wish we could keep the little cups."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Reminds me of the first time we took communion in a church where they passed the elements down the pew. Obviously we weren't the only ones there, because as we drank the cup, we heard the old lady behind us whisper loudly, "it's not wine - it's Welch's grape juice!"
How wonderful to observe this through the eyes of your son. I love communion too! blessings.
This is the first time I've attended a church that does a weekly communion. I don't always partake, we're encouraged to do as we feel led, but usually I do. What I'm discovering is that almost weekly moment really focuses my heart on just letting go and giving my life into His hand. When I dip that bread into the wine I have this sincere feeling of "okay, I'm Yours. Do with me as You will."
BTW, I know the anguish of not finding a church that "fits". I know the tears of looking week after week and feeling that none of them are you. I know what it is like to feel lonely and beg God for community. Last October I went through many hard things at once, some of them had been going on for a few years and I was weary. I sought prayer and encouragement from a friend and after we'd dug deep and I had bared my soul to my Lord, she asked me which of the many hard things I wanted most to change. I said, "I want a church." We found it the end of December. After three years of sparodic church attendance (sometimes not attending anywhere for long stretches) and knowing I hadn't yet found "home" I don't know if we've missed a Sunday since that first day in December.
My husband and I read something when we found this new church about how sometimes we have to "detox" from churchianity to let go of our preconceived notions of what church/religion/Christianity is supposed to look like and that after we've detoxed then we can be open to whatever God really wants to do with us.
I don't think we would have been ready for our church if we'd found it at the beginning of those three years of wandering. Sometimes stepping back and just seeking Jesus can be good. Hang in there, Cindy. God is doing something even in this issue.
Blessings,
Paula
dianne and paula,
several years ago, i visited an international church in prague, and we went forward to receive communion, sharing the same goblet of wine and breaking off a piece of bread. i loved the going forward, the closeness with the others there, okay, maybe even that it felt quaint or closer to an age-old tradition than what i usually experience in the evangelical churches here, or maybe just because it was different. but that was one of my most memorable communions(including the one as a girl when i discovered i liked grape juice). somehow though, any form of communion is such a wonderful symbolic action of our faith -- the action makes it feel so much more real, like deciding to serve christ once again. maybe i should find a church where it's offered weekly too.
and thanks paula, for your words about church. appreciated.
Post a Comment