We have only a few children at our church. We don’t have enough for the traditional Sunday school, and truth be told, I don’t like traditional Sunday school, for many reasons, but that is a post for another day.
Yesterday, before worship, a 5-year old girl came and asked if she could help me with Communion. I said she could. A couple of weeks earlier she was her usual active and bubbly self, running in the worship space, scribbling a picture on the church school page and having an awesome time at church. When she sat in the front pew and watched me as we were getting ready for communion, I went and asked her if she wanted to help. She did.
So we washed her hands (we have a hand-washing ritual for everyone who is assisting with communion) and she stood beside me on a stool so she could see what was going on.
We repeated this excercise yesterday and I noticed that she was looking at the missal as I was chanting the Eucharistic prayers and when we sang the Lord’s Prayer, she did too. When it was time for communion she held the pottery bowl that we use for Lent and I placed the wafer in each parishioner’s hand. When we got to her mum and dad, her sister, her aunt and her grandparents she named them for me, so they heard their title, not their name i.e. “Grandma, the body of Christ, broken in love for you”. This little girl is awesome. She can’t articulate theologically what is going on (let’s face it, most adults can’t either) but she understands something profound is happening.
H and I handed out the communion wafers, and J was distributing the wine. H is one of my youngest parishioners, and J is one of my oldest parishioners. It is my custom to receive last, so after everyone had been fed, H took a wafer and carefully placed it in my hand saying “Broken in love for you”. Then J gave me the wine and said “The blood of Christ”. And at that moment my heart was fuller than it’s been in a long time and I felt love all around me.
I gave J a hug and he went back to his seat, then H and I “did the dishes” where the left overs are consumed and the vessels are symbolically washed out. She inspected every vessel to make sure they were empty and then we tidied up.
At the end of the service, while I was pronouncing the blessing H danced and twirled in the sanctuary. It was awesome. Yes, we are in the penitential season of Lent, but there’s nothing says we can’t dance for the Lord wherever we are.
I am one of the most fortunate priests that I have such a diverse congregation in terms of age. Days like that make me feel very blessed and make this “job” seem worthwhile.
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