There was something so wrong about it.
I was not going to celebrate Holy Communion with my
congregation from a computer screen. To do this, miles apart from one another,
without the community gathered, seemed to miss an important dimension of the
sacrament. I wasn’t going to do it. We could wait until we were together again so
that our reunion would become all the more important to us—eating and drinking
together after a time of fasting.
No Sacrament until we could once again gather around the
table. It was a theologically sound position, and I was settled on it.
Until early this morning, when I scrolled through my Twitter
feed. The words of Diana Butler Bass convicted me as she described longing “for the Eucharist to escape the boundaries of rules, and rush into the
world with the healing wildness of Christ’s true presence.”
She wrote, “I’m just old enough to remember how arguments
for good order, tradition, and patience weren’t being employed about virtual
Eucharist, but to keep women and gay people from being ordained.” Followed by, “I’m
not quite old enough to remember how the same were used by white churches
against civil rights for black Americans, but, hey, I know history.”
That’s when I realized that I had become a gatekeeper for
the grace God.
I, who boldly proclaim when we gather on Sunday mornings,
“We invite all who long to receive the presence of Christ through the bread and
wine of Holy Communion to join us at the Lord’s Table. It’s Jesus himself who invites us, and Jesus
never, ever, turns anyone away.”
It had been six weeks since I worshiped with my Ascension
family and spoke those words. And now I realized that I couldn’t let another week go by without
offering the gift of Holy Communion to my people. After all, it’s not really my
gift to offer. Jesus has already done that. What I can do, is get out of the
way.
And so, this morning I got out of the way. During our
post-worship Coffee Hour on Zoom, I invited people to find whatever they had in
their house that comes as close to bread and wine as possible. They found a variety
of breads, crackers, coffee cake. And for wine, every drink you could imagine,
including bourbon, fruit juice, water and Coke.
Would Jesus object? It’s
Jesus himself who invites us, and Jesus turns no one away.
I prayed a simple prayer, and then we all held what we
used for bread up, it was consecrated, and together, we ate. Then, as the wine
was consecrated, we raised our glasses to the screen and drank together.
I concluded with a traditional post-communion prayer that
I have prayed so many times before: “We give you thanks, almighty God, that you
have refreshed us through the healing power of this gift of life. In your
mercy, strengthen us through this gift, in faith toward you and in fervent love
toward one another; for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” I struggled to get the words out as the tears spilled from my eyes.
There was something so right about it.
That is a demonstration of God's power if ever there was one, Nancy. Sending love and prayers from Awendaw.
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