THE GIFT AND THE GIVER

 “Preparing for communion” was one of our local church's ministries where my husband and I once served. It meant several hours of teamwork—usually with someone else—to fill the little “communion cups” in the slotted trays, then spreading plates with tiny crackers. All was refrigerated until needed the next day. Then before each service, the “communion table” was serviced with fresh juice and crackers.

This time-honored way of sharing what the Bible describes as “Christ's body and blood” was a sobering duty for me. Regularly it reminded me of the cost of having a restored relationship with God. The cross wasn't a pretty decoration. It was a place to die.

We've noticed a change in the “elements” used for communion services, driven probably by the pandemic-influenced need to minimize “germy” human touch. Now there are prepackaged “juice and crackers” opened by peeling off the foil top.

Earlier in my life I worshiped in a tradition that had a “common cup” that the pastor passed through the line of people at the altar rail. He wiped the cup after each “sip” with a cloth! Hello, my neighbor's cold! Yet, despite the concerns for germs, I think that “common cup” was the more Biblical symbol of what Christ actually did through the last Passover supper He ate with His disciples:

Take and eat; this is my body....Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. (Luke 25:26-28)

It's right there: the gift, and the Giver. As the hectic Christmas shopping season comes upon us (however that may turn out with all the coronavirus restrictions), this is the message that gets smothered. Christmas isn't about gifts and parties and concerts. And maybe the squashing of so much of the “festive” part of the season this year will have a purpose. Maybe it will take us back to the altar rail, or to the passed communion tray (even with its sanitary “cup” and wafer) to remember that a crudely constructed wooden animal feeder would ultimately lead to the crude and splintered executioner's cross.

There's a contemporary Christmas song that supposes to ask Mary if she knew in holding her firstborn child that she was looking into the face of God. For some reason, that grips me, and I keep thinking about it long after the song has progressed to the end. In the same vein, as the plate or basket is passed during communion, I ask myself, Do I sense God in this moment? Do I realize my impoverishment before a holy God? Do I express enough gratitude for the magnitude of what this symbolizes?

One day, Jesus told a parable to open the eyes of some religious leaders who thought they had their acts together. He told of a Pharisee and tax collector who went to the temple to pray. The Pharisee stood up and listed all the virtuous things he did. But a tax collector couldn't even come near the holiest part of the temple. He beat his chest and declared, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (Luke 18:14). He, not the Pharisee, was forgiven.

Thanksgiving is less than a week away. Many people use their celebration turkey dinner to pause and go around the table listing their blessings. Family and home are usually mentioned. But could the greatest blessing be symbolized in a prepackaged cup and wafer?