Me and the Eucharist and the Eucharist and Me. No matter where they put the altar it’s meant to be.

When I was a Presbyterian, I never cared that much about Communion.  My Catholic friends got to wear white dresses and veils and got parties and presents when they were in second grade.  I got to “join the church” in ninth grade.  I may have gotten a new dress, but I don’t remember.  Communion was cubes of white Wonder Bread and shot glasses of grape juice and happened maybe once a month.  I may have taken communion about six times.

The Unitarians have a “Flower Communion” and a “Water Communion”.  I can’t go into the details because I refused to participate and would go outside.  I was offended as a Unitarian that the church needed to imitate another religion’s ceremonies.  When I became a Christian again, I was even more offended as a Christian.  (This should have told me something; it takes a lot to offend me.)

When I started attending the Episcopal Church again after a twenty-year break, I was not ready to “go up” at first, although someone very kindly told me that anyone who’d been baptized could take Communion.  It took me several weeks.  And then what I got out of it was more a feeling of participation and being part of the group.

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered that it was important to me.  Our priest was going to be away and a deacon would be doing the service.  We had the option of not having Communion or having it with bread and wine that that already been consecrated.  (Only a priest can consecrate.)  I found that I did not want to miss the Eucharist.  My reaction to my feelings was, “Well, that’s weird.”

But as I’ve found out, a spiritual journey is a weird trip.  Things happen.  We can only accept and be grateful for them.  For instance, I never thought I would care whether the altar is among the people, with the priest facing the congregation or at the front (or is it back?) of the church, with the priest’s back to the congregation.  But I do.  I don’t want to miss the chance to see what the priest is doing or that moment of the blessing of the elements, when God is coming through the priest’s hands into the bread and wine.  I don’t understand it, and that is part of the miracle.   

Not too long ago, I would hear Catholics on religious talk shows speak about the “gift of the Eucharist”  and put this down to “Catholic craziness.”  (Sorry about that, Catholic friends and family.)  Now I am writing about it myself, and if I ever get a chance to go on a religious talk show, I will talk about it.  (Don’t plan on this any time soon, but if any shows are looking for talent, I’m available.)

Gifts, miracles, and mystery!  That’s my kind of crazy!