It Never Fails

I was blessed to be invited to serve communion tonight at our Maundy Thursday/Tenebrae service. It never fails -- every time I do this, I am overwhelmed by it.

First, I realized this evening, as we went through the very familiar ritual, that I was sinking into it. It had the comfort of a story, told over and over, until the words ring with warmth and family love. I anticipated each part, longing to hear the poetry of the words. I was grateful to hear the truth of the ritual.

I walked up front when those who had been asked to assist were invited to do so. I was served the bread and the juice. I ate the bread; I spilled the juice. It never fails -- always, whenever I participate in communion, the juice either drips on my hand, or I spill it. Once again, I served communion with blood on my hand. Perhaps it is meant to remind me of the blood spilt for me; it never fails to do so.

I was asked to serve the bread, which surprised me. I wonder if I have ever served the bread before.

I usually try to say the person's name as I hand him or her the element, "John, the blood of Christ, spilt for you." I am a terrible name person, and usually as I do this, I get nervous -- I worry that I will get someone's name wrong, forget a name, offend someone because I did not use her name. Who knows? This time I released myself from that pressure. As I came to each person, I tore the bread, placed it in his hand, and covered it with my own, holding his hands. I said, "The body of Christ, broken for you." It was personal because of the touch of hand to hand. I was able to relax into it, and not worry.

I was blessed by the privilege of serving communion. I am grateful to have been given the bread to serve, because it allowed that personal touch and contact. It's contact that I never would have known would have been important to me, but it became holy and wonderful -- a blessing unexpected and overwhelming for me.

For me, there is something unexplainable and sacred about serving communion to my friends. For just a moment and in a very small, minuscule way, I am given the grace of being Christ to them -- to offer them the bread or the wine -- to be for them a means of grace. God never fails to make his presence known to me as he uses me to join with his church in communion.

It is a grace immeasurable to be of service to my friends, to my church in this way.

Praise be to God. Amen.

Image: Communion cup from Ichthus last year.