A Snack

I went to church this morning and to my frustration I found out it was Communion Sunday, not only that, but it was World Communion Sunday. Argh. Usually I avoid Communion...especially in the 10:45 service since there are so many people there and it always makes church go long. And now, it was World Communion Sunday which means that this Communion day would be especially Communiony. But, I was already trapped in the pew and surrounded by old ladies with sagging pantyhose by the time I realized the day, so I couldn't just leave. I decided to sit it out. I decided to have an open mind. Of course, I kept wondering if I would partake in the body and blood of our Savior and how I could politely let the sagging-hose ladies past me without having to do the crazy aisle dance just so I wouldn't have to visit the altar where the smiling men would be holding up the aforementioned meal. Oh well. We would see when it came time.

So, as the service progressed, I noticed new and different things about my church. We have a Korean Congreagation that meets in another part of the building, but this Sunday they were a part of our service and their pastor was participating along side the regular pastor. He taught us how to say, "Peace" in Korean so that during the passing of the peace we all were shaking hands and trying not to look foolish saying, "Pung-wa...Pung-wa." Then he read the second gospel reading from his Korean Bible. The choir sang a traditional Native American song as they slowly entered the sanctuary to the beat of a single drum. The children's church talk was about the Scottish traditions of Communion and how World Communion Sunday was all about inviting all people to God's table.

Then, something funny happened. Mike, the pastor, started to prepare the sacrement, and when he pulled the napkin off the bread there was a pile of rolls: rye rolls and challah bread and flat bread, each a traditional bread of a different nation. Of course, he went through the whole litany and whatnot, but instead of just intoning the old "Let us proclaim the mysteries of faith..." thing himself, it had been written out for us all to say together. Then we sang the Lord's Prayer, not just said it, but sang it. And just when Pastor Mike was about to break the bread he said (and I am sure I am getting this wrong here), "Everyone is invited. Soundrels, thieves, liars! Everyone is invited at this table!" And people started to come down the aisle. Not in an orderly fashion, but just bounding down the aisle. Some were holding hands with children or the elderly. Some were quiet. Some people took their bread standing and some knelt at the altar. I didn't worry about the saggy-hosed ladies. I just went up and ripped off a hunk of bread and nibbled as I walked back to my seat.

Do you want to know why I went up to Communion? Because it seemed to me just like it should have been. People smiling and sharing. It wasn't a somber time to reflect on how this little flimsy waffer soked in juice would save us from eternal damnation. It was a time for people to celebrate life, the harvest, and eachother. I looked around and was reminded of Robert Fulghum's essay All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. It was as if the whole world was having a snack together and then we would find our mat and our blanket and settle down for a nap.