Rockin' Communion

Growing up, communion was not a big deal to me. It was so formal and . . . dainty. A tiny glass cup of Welch's grape juice, about a teaspoonful. A cube of bread exactly one-half inch in height, width and depth (how did they DO that?). Shiny gold trays, everyone was quiet, the organ played. On a good day, I felt communion with Jesus. But there wasn't much feeling of communion with anyone else in the pews, let alone believers around the world. It felt private, like a ritual for insiders.

Compare that with rockin' communion in the lounge car of an Amtrak train near Jackson, Mississippi. We've come a long way, baby.

Eight of us were headed by train on a justice trip to New Orleans in June. It was Sunday morning at 10 am and we knew our friends at First United were gathered in worship at the very same time. So we sat around the metal tables between the vending machines and the handicapped restroom. Each of us had brought bread from home, to share on this strange spiritual journey. I had a little plastic bottle of Welch's, and I asked Armando behind the cash register if we could have eight cups for communion. He looked at me kinda strange, but handed them over (no charge).

We read scripture texts from the Old and New Testaments about justice. That's what brought us to this Amtrak car. That's what was leading us to Constance Nelson and her beaten up house in the Upper Ninth Ward. We opened the Word. We talked about Jesus. We prayed. We passed the bread. We shared the cup. And we rode the rails. It was just about the best communion I've ever had. And I was wearing shorts and a T shirt.

Last Sunday, when I was back at First United I got to serve the elements to folks in the nursery. A toddler named Caroline, about 3 years old, walked right up to me when I brought in a hunk of homemade bread and a chalice of juice. She knew just what to do -- broke off a piece, dunked it in the juice, and ate it with a smile. Jesus said, "Enter the kingdom, become a child. Become a child, enter the kingdom." Caroline came back two more times, because she was hungry for God's love.

That girl didn't have to wait 40 years to have a rockin' communion. Neither do you.