Communion and Community:

The crosses hanging are an invitation to serve communion. If they are both gone, the roles have been filled.

It seemed nobody was up for serving communion the day after Alex was killed.  

I saw both Salvadoran painted crosses as I entered the sanctuary—not technically late, but certainly running close.  I wondered who would volunteer, and why were they both still hanging?  Could I be the one to do it?   

I slid a cross off the hook and Tom thanked me.  He was maybe not up for ushering either, but as a rock of the congregation, there he was.  

I snuck into the middle of the row between my old friends, also bearing steaming to-go cups of coffee, and a new member that I barely know.    

To those who received the bread from me: thank you.  I needed the contact and connection.  Normally I’m all about halting the spread of germs.  I sanitize before serving.  I try to let only the bread touch your hand as I look you in the eye and repeat “this is the body of Christ, given for you.”  Maybe you say Amen.   But today, I found myself touching your hand as I shared the body.  I wanted to close your fingers over it, to linger in your presence.  I felt the tingling in my eyes.  Salt touched my cheeks.   

I didn’t even realize what I was doing until halfway through the meal.  By then, I'm sure that I shared many germs.  I’m sorry.  and Thank you again.