Fifteen years ago or so, I had the joy of visiting Norway with the choir of Embry Hills UMC.  While there I was invited to assist in a Lutheran communion service for which our choir sang a magnificent mass.  It was a remarkable service featuring our Atlanta Choir, an English musical director, an organist from Paris, a Lutheran Norwegian congregation, a Thai bishop as preacher, and a United Methodist pastor assisting with communion.  For a moment, the church was truly universal, and together we celebrated our oneness in Christ.

That is not to say, however, that there were not practical concerns for the aforementioned United Methodist assisting in the aforementioned Lutheran Norwegian church.

During the pre-service meeting, the pastor asked the Thai bishop and me to serve the wine, while the pastor and lay assistant distributed the bread.  "I can do that," I said.

Then I learned that they serve the wine differently from us.  First of all, it's wine, not grape juice, and, secondly, it is not pre-poured into small cups or shared through a common cup by intinction.  Instead, every person receiving communion is given a small silver chalice.  At the chancel rail they kneel, and the pastor pours the wine from a larger chalice into each of the smaller ones.

Uh oh.

With me doing the pouring, the "sloshing threat" was in the "extremely high" category.  After all, I'm dangerous enough with a tea pitcher or milk jug.  I sat during the service, eyeing the large and beautiful silver chalice from which I would pour, and I worried.  Since the bishop preached his sermon in Thai, which was then translated into Norwegian, I didn't listen twice, meaning I had plenty of time to ponder the possibilities of errant pouring and stained clothing, not to mention strained ecumenical relations.  Someday, I feared, they would point to a large purplish red spot on the carpet and say, "That's why Methodists don't help with communion anymore."

But when the time came, it went amazingly well.  There was no major spillage, only a slight problem judging how much to pour.  Apparently, the Thai bishop and I both served the wine more liberally than the local pastor. We emptied our chalices several times, and Jan, the lay assistant, had to return twice to the sacristy for more.  I didn't get any complaints from the parishioners, but Jan did turn to me once and tell me to "pour smaller."

I thought about saying something like, "Jan, we Methodists simply cannot 'pour small' when it comes to the grace of God," but I decided the time was not right for a Lutheran-Methodist dialogue.  I did the best I could, enjoyed the moment, and left thankful for the graciousness of the Lutherans and the miracle of Holy Communion.