When Family Sneaks into Familiar
Sue Robbins' View from a Pew
Like many Protestant churches, we designate one Sunday a month for communion. (Communion in the Christian church is the solemn bread-and-wine sacrament commemorating Jesus’ Last Supper.)
The service itself is familiar to us all and doesn’t vary much from month to month. At the appointed time during the worship hour, the minister approaches the communion table, he invites his helper to join him, he says the words, and he announces that all is ready and invites the congregation to come forward to be served. As the people begin to silently line up in the aisle, our pianist plays “Let us Break Bread Together on Our Knees.” Usually, the only sounds you hear – besides the music – are some foot-shuffling and the murmured words of comfort from the minister as he administers the elements.
We’ve been doing this at our church once a month exactly the same way for as long as any of us can remember. The power in human ritual is in simplicity and repetition. This is a powerful ritual for us.
Except last week, our normal, familiar communion was…different. It all started out the same: the minister approached the table, the helper came up, the words were spoken, the invitation was made, and the people got up and started forward. And then I think one of the older ladies saw a friend and moved to warmly (and, may I say, rather loudly) greet her. About that time, a couple of our kids ran in from class, and they kind of jostled themselves into position in the aisle. The adult acolyte leader leaned over and said something funny to the guy next to him, and that guy laughed out loud. And just like that we went from Solemn Sacrament to Family Dinner. Within five seconds, everybody was chatting up a storm in the middle of the church, waving, reaching back, shaking hands, like we were all in the cafeteria line at Niko’s. The minister had to raise his “murmur” voice to be heard, and even the helper holding the bread basket ended up making small talk with the folks who were waiting. It was…bizarre.
Happily, lightening did not strike upon our moments of irreverence. The sacrament proceeded, the final prayers were said, and the elements were covered and set aside. It’s possible that nobody besides me even noticed.
Communion is The Family Table in a church. As we come up to Holy Week and remember Jesus’ final week, we know that his last meal was probably much more like a potluck dinner than the ritualized sacrament we practice in worship. They were all friends who showed up hungry, who were used to greeting each other warmly (and loudly), whose children would push and jostle, and, who, I’m sure, weren’t averse to telling a joke or two while waiting for the food. At that point, they didn’t call it “church” – but it was.
Communion in our church is the last Sunday of every month, which means the next one will be the Sunday after Easter. Depending on the previous week’s intake of chocolate bunnies and “Peeps,” we’ll see how it goes…
"Our Church", as described by the author, is The Union Church of Balboa, where you will always be welcome and sure to extend your family of friends.
