At the Table

I helped serve communion at church this morning. Polity nuts would scoff at this since I'm not ordained, but at New Covenant it isn't uncommon for Pastor Lee to invite random people to serve. I believe I was called up to serve the 1st or 2nd time I attended worship there, and I recall feeling very uncomfortable. I couldn't remember what to say and I had a hard time looking people in the eyes.

This morning was different. This time I was serving my family. People I've gotten to know through delivering food to people experiencing homelessness and enjoying a cup of coffee and rehearsing for the Easter play.

I was serving the bread, telling each person "This is the body of Christ, broken for you." Those 5 minutes of serving seemed like 5 seconds and 5 years all at once. I'm not sure how it is possible for time to both slow down and speed up at the same time, but it did this morning. I got lost in the act. I know there was music playing during communion, because several people remarked at how beautiful the song was. I didn't hear it at all. I was so consumed in this act of sharing in the meal at the table. This time I didn't just look each person in the eyes, I intensely gazed into them. Nothing else existed in that moment except for that meal. That beautiful, difficult meal.

After we finished with the Supper, I sat back down and came back to reality. I looked down the row and saw a few teenagers wearing bracelets that say "I love boobies." I have no idea what that fad is all about. But I love the fact that at the Table, all are welcome and have an equal share in the meal. Whether they are wearing silly bracelets or have a criminal record or have a 4.0 GPA.

That is what I love about my faith tradition.