I would have loved to have heard the conversation the boy had with his parents when he got home last night.
His sister probably laughed out loud, a laugh that matched the highly amused grin that filled her face when she saw that her brother had snatched the bread, dipped it in the cup and received the sacrament. His brothers probably shook their heads and rolled their eyes. Yet, I wonder if they thought to themselves, "What was it like?"
We celebrated our Maundy Thursday service last night. As part of the service, we celebrated the Lord's Supper, commemorating that last meal Jesus had with his disciples in the Upper Room. As part of that celebration, I had baked loaves of bread and cut them into pieces. Two large cups were filled with grape juice--not wine anymore, I'm afraid.
When it came to share the elements, we asked the people to come forward and receive the sacrament. Intinction is the phrase we use for this method. I like this practice because it gets the people physically involved, there is something about getting up and going to receive rather than sitting in a pew and waiting for the trays of thimble-full glasses and the little pieces of Wonderbread to make the rounds. A pastor colleague of mine has called the practice of intinction, "rip and dip." It's a pretty accurate description, but I don't think I'm going to use that one in church any time soon.
Anyhow, the line moves through fairly quickly. I am holding the cup. "The blood of Christ for you," I repeat over and over, making eye contact with all who go through the line. Then comes this boy of 12 or 13 up to the front with his family. In our church, children don't receive the sacrament until they've publicly professed their faith, but they were invited to come forward to receive the blessing, "Jesus died for you." The boy must have been watching closely what was going on in front of him, because he knew what to do. Only when the bread touched his tongue and his sister grabbed his shoulders did he have any realization that he was breaking any rules.
The "rules" part of me thought to say, "No," but my desire to see a faith nourished kept me silent. I didn't want the pastor to add to any embarrassment. I grinned, and we moved on without a pause. Soon followed a woman who eagerly grasped the bread and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes then darted to the cup and then to her empty fingers. Her eyes widened and I saw a little flicker of panic as she processed what had happened. Her hand darted to the basket again and another piece of bread in hand, she dipped it into the cup. She wasn't going to be denied either. A double portion of the body of Christ wouldn't be too much.
These little events that happen in ministry are memorable. I think they speak to some of the greater truths of scripture. There is something to coming to the table hungry for grace. I'm glad the boy participated. I'm glad the woman came back for the second piece of bread. I have faith that the sacrament wasn't wasted on either of them. I think the "means of grace" that Calvinists associate with the sacraments were in full effect last night.
Take. Eat. Drink. Remember. Believe.
