communing

In our office we have little, thimble sized cups of grape juice with peel back lids.  They go with the postage stamp size, individually wrapped crackers also on the shelf.  If a patient requests the sacrament of communion we can hygienically, conveniently and painlessly respond.  It's a bit of a stretch as symbols go.  From 12 sweaty, hungry disciples cramming together into the last available upper room to break bread and gulp wine and celebrate the Exodus to this plastic cup?   I can find nothing hygienic, convenient, painless or tiny about our beaten and bleeding Jesus hanging on a cross all day.  BUT... it is a treasured symbol.  And I have anticipated the day when a patient on my floor, or during my shift will call for it and I can lead them in communion.


I love communion.  I've participated in communion in a barn, on a beach, at sunrise on the top of a mountain, in my living room with my small group, and in another country on a mission trip.  I've led communion in high schools and nursing homes and many many times at my church.  There is just something about standing with people you know and love, real people with real struggles, and holding up His body and His blood to remember together.  


It's been 56 weeks since my last communion.  There has been a lot of "water under the bridge" since then.  Many times I have longed for that experience and wondered when it would happen again.  Would there be a time when I would at church?  Should I lead it on a Friday night with my family?   When would a patient request it and I could do it then?


This week we began talking about Lent and Ash Wednesday.  These are new concepts for me since I didn't grow up celebrating either.  As chaplains we were to provide an Ash Wednesday opportunity for the patients and staff of the hospital.  I learned that this is a day of repentance and it marks the beginning of Lent. Ashes were used in ancient times, according to the Bible, to express mourning. Dusting oneself with ashes was the penitent's way of expressing sorrow for sins and faults.   I loved the biblical significance of this and looked forward to offering this experience.


Wednesday morning we found thoughtful liturgies on our desks to help us lead in the imposition of ashes and with communion.  We met in our little chapel to go over the short program.  When I saw the pottery chalice and napkin wrapped loaf of bread I thought again of how I missed communion and wondered when I would get to be a part of it.


Then our supervisor, Robin, called for a moment of silence, and then began a run through of the program.  We read together beautiful words of repentance from Psalms 51 


Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.  Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.  Let me hear joy and gladness;  Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. 


The sign of the cross was drawn with ashes on our foreheads, a mark of humility.  Then Robin began to read familiar words from the Gospels. 


While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, "Take and eat; this is my body." 


All of a sudden I realized that we were really doing this.  It wasn't just a run through "in case someone wanted it".  This was the real deal.  Robin broke the bread and handed me the plate saying "this is His body, broken for you, Erin."  I took a piece and handed the plate to Vicki.  "This is His body, broken for you, Vicki."  And she handed it to Nathan.  We dipped our pieces of bread in the chalice of grape juice, and there in the little hospital chapel we had communion. 


And when He had given thanks, he broke it and said, "This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me."  1 Corinthians 11:24