common elements

In my Methodist tradition, churches usually celebrate communion the first Sunday of the month.  This past holiday weekend was no exception for First UMC in Casper.  Also within this tradition the Bishop must give permission to a person before he or she can administer and bless the Communion bread and juice. (Welch’s grape juice is standard since Mr. Welch was a Methodist.) This reality is new in my life because as of July 1, I have the permission to administer the sacraments including communion and baptism.

Over the years from youth gatherings in the Rocky Mountains to high church in an Anglican congregation in England to the chapel grounds of my university, I have pondered communion and in a sense come up with a personal theology about it. I have yet to fully dive into the Methodist doctrine behind my particular tradition’s understanding, but history and my own experience have illuminated the gifts of this sacrament and its unique ability to unite Christians of all places and beliefs. 

Part of my theology is grounded in the common elements. I believe Jesus used flat bread and wine because that was typical of a Passover meal. Had he lived in America, he may have offered rolls and apple cider or El Salvador, tortillas and Fanta. Thus, I am not too particular about the elements. Bring in white cake and punch for an extra sweet celebration. They’re common and meant to evoke memory and thanksgiving at future meals with the common elements. 

So today when a patient asked for communion and wasn’t particular about whether a priest had blessed the Eucharist or not, I humbly offered that gift. P and I arranged to have worship together at noon when I would come and accompany her to the hospital’s prayer garden. It’s a beautiful, small patch of nature and rest, yes with bird poop stained benches and just enough shade to save us from the intense heat.  We talked a bit about her life and struggles and little about my own. I sang Amazing Grace while she hummed along, not wanting her raspy voice to infringe on the sound. John 14 came next as we pondered deeply the words of Jesus comforting his disciples, encouraging them to believe and know him, reminding them again and again that they need not fear.  P asked how I understood that passage, but quickly answered for herself that “we are to have faith no matter what.” A sacred pause prompted a new courage to ask, “What would you say to a person who couldn’t believe? Who wanted to but didn’t know if it was enough? Who prayed but felt like she was on the back burner of God’s priorities?”

“That you are beloved and enough. I would say that the best prayer can be ‘God, help me in my unbelief.’ I would suggest that you ask God for the desire of your heart. He hears and knows his beloved.”

And with that belovedness in mind and nothing but deep affection for God and this tender patient, I pulled out a Styrofoam cup of grapes and slice of bread. “These are the common elements for communion today. Jesus used common things, too.” She laughed, saying that God was certainly amused by the grapes and bread. I served her, savoring a thick bite of bread and juicy grape before offering her another piece. Who could say no to more Jesus? We chuckled and finished the elements, taking a renewed spirit and Jesus’ love into the world. A prayer concluded our feast of thanksgiving and questioning, fearing and trusting.

For the rest of the day I thought about the common elements I used. What a miraculous thing to find grapes in the refrigerator from a Friday meal with the patient’s name on it and a slice of bread! But then epiphany arose as I realized we were the miracle of common elements. Two strangers. Two ordinary people. Two ladies in Colorado. Two people who loved God. Two souls thirsty for a touch and sign from God. We are they, the common elements, for we come broken and kneaded, pressed and dry to be held in God’s loving hands as blessed offerings for the world.  We are both the sacred vessels for his presence and love and also the holy, set apart pieces he needs to share.  We were the common elements ordained for this time.

Our garden picnic and sacred sharing of the common in the midst of fully being common created the space and memory that seems to be what Jesus had hoped for when he raised the bread and cup before his disciples. The new covenant flowed abundantly upon us common people out of the uncommon gift of our God.