Communion: The Other Side of the Elements

Today I got to assist with Communion at my home congregation!

Before anyone gets too worried, I checked the Book of Order and it's apparently fine for a non-ordained member to assist with or serve Communion (we're not talking Words of Institution here) as long as they have the approval of Session.  I checked in with our pastor, George Dakin, and he assured me he'd run it by them and make sure everything was official. (Anyone who wants to check my polity please see W-3.3616d)

While today was not the first time I had assisted with Communion, it was the first time for me to do so for my home congregation.  For that matter, it was my first time to do so in a church setting; the other times prior to this were in the Princeton Theological Seminary (PTS) Chapel services (same polity situation as above).  It was really neat to have my supporting congregation/community acknowledge their awareness of where I am at on this journey and express their continuing support in this way.  It was also neat for me to have an opportunity to serve them as well.


Every time I've been asked to assist with Communion has been a meaningful experience for me.  There's something about standing there, watching people come forward, offering them the elements, and declaring that "this is the Body of Christ, broken for you," and "the Blood of Christ, shed for you."  I'm always reminded of the truth and universality of those simple yet so profound words.  Maybe it's something about saying them aloud over and over.  Maybe it's something about uttering that truth to so many unique and diverse individuals.  I can't help but be awed by the expanse and depth of God's love, and reminded of Christ's embracing welcome.

... Having reveled in the divine aspects of the experience, allow me to now let you in on the silly human side of it all.  For all the gravity and meaning I experience on the other side of the elements, I've also found that my mind is also occupied with a cascade of mundane, trivial concerns as well.

For example, at the seminary chapel, we practiced intinction - a fancy word meaning you dunk the bread Jesus into the juice/wine Jesus and eat both parts together.  Most of the time I was helping with the juice/wine Jesus.  As people came forward, as I was thinking my profound thoughts, I was also trying to figure out where to hold the cup for people.  You don't want it too high (not usually a problem for me at my 5'1" hight, but you never know), so people have to stand on their toes to peer in and see the juice.  And you don't want it too low, so people have to lean over to reach it and avoid dripping before they get their bread-juice combo to their mouth.
       And most alarming of all were those people who preferred to sip their liquid Jesus.  We were instructed not to let go of the cup to avoid the awkward and disastrous occasion when the people on both sides think the other one is holding it, and Liquid Jesus gets dropped on the floor and splashed all over everyone.  Not that I think a good splashing of Jesus is bad - I could probably use that more often than not - but during the usual reverence of Communion and with the stain-prone wine or grape juice is probably not ideal.  The other dilemma is how far do you tip the cup?  I mean, I don't want to be stingy with Jesus, but I also don't want to give them a gulp so big that it splashes down their chin as well.
       And then, if you've gotten that far, you're supposed to wipe the edge of the cup (with the provided cloth) and give the cup a quarter turn.  So you have to juggle the big, top-heavy chalice with one hand, swipe the rim with the dainty cloth while avoiding dunking an edge by accident, do the quarter turn, and be ready by the time the next person gets to you.  Not as easy as it sounds!  And then the math major in my always wonders what I'm supposed to do if more than 4 people want to sip!

See what I mean?!  Silly, mundane, human stuff.

Thankfully there were no chalice-juggling, quarter-turning, sip-giving moments today.  This morning I was just in charge of helping the officiant distribute the elements to the elders and deacons who were serving, making sure they didn't run out, collecting the elements back in, and serving the servers.  That should have been easy.  Especially since I've watched it done, oh, just all my life.

Well, it was an "easier said than done" moment.  I got things passed out just fine, and the musicians served.  So far, so good.  But then, as I stationed myself to make sure no one ran out of edible Jesus, I realized that since they were facing the congregation, the servers' backs were to me, effectively blocking my view of their supply.  So I did my best to nonchalantly dance around, maneuvering so I could get glimpses of how each of my four were doing.  I did okay.  Although apparently one last guy was nice enough to be satisfied with a big pinch of crumbs.  Aww man!  No one should have to just get crumbs of Jesus!

So other than that one guy, I had gotten thus far decently, though not expertly.  But then the real confusion began.  Thankfully I don't think anyone except the servers really noticed (although I suppose I'm giving myself away now).  I thought that when a section was finished, the servers returned to the front and waited for the others.  And then after everyone was reassembled, the officiant and I collected the elements from them in the reverse of how we passed them out.  And then after we had collected everything, together we would serve each of them.  Apparently not.  It turns out that as each pair finishes, I'm supposed to collect their empty trays right then and go ahead and serve them, after which they can return to their seats, regardless of where the other servers are in the process.  A good plan, it avoids awkward waiting.  Oh well.

So, after the big-pinch-of-Jesus-crumbs guy had gone, my first finishing pair returned (just as I was about to give her a new, full plate of bread, by the way - I was almost on top of it).  So she handed me the empty tray.  I wasn't quite sure what to do because she didn't need the full one now, but I didn't want her to feel awkward not holding anything while she waited for the others to finish.  So I offered her the full one.  She took a piece of bread.  And not the tray.
       I was confused, and just went with it and but both the empty and full try down.  (To her credit, she knew exactly what she was doing, I was the one being confusing - I wasn't doing things the way they're done here.)  I then collected the juice tray from her partner.  About that time my other pair finished, so I went and collected their trays.  Somehow it was more apparent I was supposed to serve them right then, and that's when I figured out why everyone was confused earlier.  By that time, when I'd caught on and was heading back to serve the first two as I should have, the officiant had taken care of my blunder and was serving them so they could return to their seats.
       After that, I was back on track.  The officiant serves me, we trade hands with the plates, and I serve him.  We put everything down where it belongs and I may return to my seat as he finished things up with a few last words and a prayer.
       All in all, not so bad.

So, see what I mean?  Communion from the other side of the elements is much like Communion from the "normal" side: a mixture of profound, divine reverence, and mundane, silly, human distractions.  Oh well!  I suppose a few little awkward moments are to be expected - a few silly blunders on our part remind us to laugh at ourselves and remember that the Sacraments aren't our acts, but God's.
Thank goodness!  :)