I don’t remember the first time I took communion, though it must have been sometime in 1992 as that’s when I was baptized. I do remember, however, the first time I realized I wasn’t allowed to take communion. I was maybe 6 years old and can still clearly see the plate passing over my head, from adult hand to adult hand. I can also recall my anger at being skipped over. Why did they skip me? Before I could ask, all I noticed a big silver tray was being passed and I made up my mind not to get skipped again. Scuttling onto my knees I waited as the tray came by and was just reaching out to take a little cup when the family friend I was sitting with said, “No, that’s not for you. You have to be baptized first.”
At that moment I was crushed. All I wanted was to be like the grownups and have some of what they were having. The little pieces of bread and tiny cups in the big silver tray looked so special and important. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to have any. Talking with my parents after church I asked them why no one would share the little bread and cups with me, and they explained the basics of communion. They also told me some people believe you have to be baptized before you take communion, but that if I really wanted to participate they would share their bread and juice with me and we could talk about what it means to be baptized.
Over the years my understanding of communion has expanded, and thanks to my time in seminary, I have taken communion in most every way it’s possible to serve it. From my home church’s method of small groups standing around the table and passing the elements to each other with the whispered words, “The Body of Christ,” “The Cup of Christ,” to intinction which makes the bread so soggy it no longer needs to be chewed, to gathering at the rail of the highly liturgical Baptist church I attended in seminary and having my mentor put a wafer on my tongue and offering me the communal cup to drink from, communion continues to be something I long to participate in. I find it mysterious and a time for intense reverence, but also earthy and joyful. As the person now serving communion, few things compare to the enormity and historical connectedness of speaking the Words of Institution. Few things reduce me to tears faster than a parent serving their child for the first time, or having to place the bread and the cup into someone's hands because theirs shake too badly to pick up the elements anymore. I’ve also never had to work as hard to choke back laughter as I did the time one of my youth dads dropped his bread completely into the chalice rather than just dipping it. He looked at me in a panic and I could tell he was thinking, “Do I fish it out? Do I get a new piece of bread and try again? Do I pretend nothing happened and just go back to my pew?!”
We Baptists do communion and ourselves a disservice when we call this cornerstone of our spiritual practice an “ordinance, “ because if anything it is a sacrament – an outward and visible sign of inward grace – it’s communion. Few things connect us so completely and personally to Christ, and it is through our gathering at the table that we’re reminded there’s space for everyone and no one should be passed over.
So why does communion matter to you? Do you remember the first time you took communion? In what ways and settings have you participated in this ancient practice that was impactful? For those of you who are parents, what was it like to see you child take communion for the first time? Come talk to me, I would be honored to share in these memories with you.
Jillian
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