“………Eat, drink, be happy.
Accept the miracle.
Accept, too, each spoken word,
spoken with love.”
~from Mary Oliver’s ‘Logos’

This past Sunday we celebrated the sacrament of communion at worship. The entire service was a unique, combining the different and distinct worship styles that are available every Sunday morning. The service was welcome for some, and I’m sure, challenging for others. Given the way in which both Christmas and New Year’s fell on Saturday, it seemed the best use of  everyone’s energy and time and provided for a larger number of people in one service rather than a small number in each. All in all, I felt both Sundays reflected the snapshot of a faith community that is diverse and yet flexible enough to be open to having things not follow the eternal mantra of the church: ” But we’ve always done it this way.”

During the service we shared music from the various styles beloved by each community. We were careful to balance the service with what seems to be the most important parts of liturgy for each. Prayers were said, the peace of Christ was passed, an offering was received. And finally it was time for communion.

I have to admit that I had been centered on some other details of the service and had forgotten to look carefully as to where I was to stand as I served the communion bread. After the Eucharistic prayer and the Lord’s Prayer was spoken, all those who were to serve the gathered community came forward and we took the bread and cup from the table. I took the bread and headed to the nearest place only to realize I was not where I should be. But then I saw one of our young ones looking at me with knowing eyes. I followed his lead to the other side of the sanctuary and we took up our places as people walked forward to receive the elements. The moment we began, I knew I was in for a holier than usual moment.

This young boy, standing tall and confident with the communion cup in his hands followed my quiet offer of bread to the first person with the words: “The cup of hope. For you.” His spoke these words as he looked the receiver straight in the eyes. He did not mumbles these words or wait for my lead in any way. He just stood there offering both word and cup boldly over and over. I found myself rising to the occasion. I spoke my words: ” The bread of new life offered for you.” with greater presence and intensity than I normally do. Slowly,as people came toward us, I had the sense that they were anticipating what they were about to receive. There was nothing rote or ‘I’ve done this a hundred times’ feel to it. What was happening was real, for this moment in time, for each person.

Later I thought about all the clergy I know and have experienced who offer this meal with that same old, same old sound in their voices. I have, no doubt, at times been one of them. We might be able to talk endlessly about the theology of sacraments, about what communion is or isn’t, what it means and doesn’t.  There are plenty of clergy and other adults who don’t give it much thought because they are unsure what they really believe about this central act of our worship. Still others would say that someone so young as my co-server has no understanding of the depth of this important act.

All I know is that on Sunday I had the privilege…..and the blessing…..to stand by a young one who spoke with the voice of a prophet. Clearly, boldly, loudly, he proclaimed what he knew and what he had to offer: ” This is the cup of hope. For you.”  For those who were nourished by his presence and his words, I would bet they will not soon forget what it was like to celebrate this sacrament…….this outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.

I am certain that I will remember it for a very, very long time.