"Taking" Communion - A Holiday Blooper
When visiting family out of town for the holidays, we engage in the requisite fun activities such as icing cookies, eating cookies, and catching up on a year of family stories from the dramatic to the hilarious. Christmas of 2011 was the year I was added to the family story blooper reel.
Mike and I went to Buffalo, New York for Christmas week and it felt so good to be back home to spend time with family we don't see nearly enough. On Christmas Eve we attended service at our old church, Faith United Presbyterian. At the last minute (seriously, 10 minutes before leaving the house) I was invited to sing in the choir so I hopped in the car with my brother-in-law and off we went for a quick rehearsal.
After some heartfelt re-introductions to choir friends I hadn't seen in 21 years, we rehearsed. I sight-read well, and it's a good thing, because I didn't recognize a single song! Then all eight of us donned the blue choir robes and lined up to worship with a crowd of about 70. It's a small and joyful congregation; and, lucky for me, one that's quick to forgive.
The service was lovely and brought back fond memories. While the congregation was walking up the isle to take communion I was sitting up front with the choir awaiting our turn. I soaked in the moment, taking in all the faces and the quiet, happy chatter shared among friends.
As we lined up to partake in the bread and juice and I was lost in the moment, exchanging smiles with my niece and nephews in the front row. As I approached the minister, holding a round of bread and her helper who held the juice in a pottery cup I suddenly realized that I hadn't paid any attention to communion protocol. I stood in front of Joyce, the minister, and froze. Even as she handed me the bread and said, "the body of Christ," I blanked.
All the possible response options raced through my mind from my Catholic, Protestant, and non-denominational experiences:
"And the same to you"
"Peace be with you"
"The blood of Christ"
"Lord God Almighty"
"Oh my God"
Two words eventually escaped my lips in the form of a question, "Thank you?"
But it wasn't over. There was the juice in the pottery cup. I'm standing there, alone now, holding a piece of bread and feeling the weight of the blue choir robe and the heat on my face as a deep Christmas red. There was no escape. The last one in line and I didn't have a clue how to take communion. All eyes were on me.
As the minister tilted her head as if to say, "yes, go on," I stuffed the bread into my mouth and realized instantly that that was not what I should have done because now her eyes were big as saucers.
The cup, the cup. Doesn't somebody say, "the blood of Christ," or "do this in remembrance of me" or something to clue me in?! Nope.
So I did the only thing I could do. I took the cup out of the young man's hands—he was reluctant to give it up, but ceded kindly to me—and I took a drink of crumb-ridden juice. That's when it dawned on me, you're supposed to dip the bread in the cup while he held it! It took everything within him not to laugh, bless him. But I could hear the snickering behind me where my family took up two rows, and the giggles quickly spread through the whole church.
I returned to the choir section and sat in front facing the whole congregation as they looked upon me with Christmas glee in their eyes. I had to laugh. This woman, a stranger to most of them, whom they've never seen in the choir, much less in church before, crashes the Christmas Eve service in every way possible.
People were very gracious and no one said a word about it to me after church. No one except my family.
"That was so Catholic of you!"
"Oh, I could see it coming, you weren't paying any attention. That was hilarious!"
"Aunt Sam, you messed up communion soooo baaaaad, hahaha!"
"Mom, that was so embarrassing. Not for us; but you were so red. That was awesome!"
"Way to go Sam. There's a girl who knows how to take communion!"
So there it is, my everlasting contribution to the holiday storytelling bloopers. I hope your new year is full of promises, as well as some personal bloopers worth repeating at family gatherings.
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