Bread & Wine

The sacred…places and objects set aside by a people of faith to use solely for expressions of that faith. The profane…ordinary or everyday places and objects for everyday, common use.
Bread and wine. Two of my favorite things. Especially after a hard day of writing brilliant prose, and receiving nothing but scathing rejection letters. The life of a writer. But, on Sundays bread and wine take on a completely different meaning. Still comforting and sustaining, they now become blessed, holy and transcendent. Something I cannot go get for myself. I prepare myself, approach the rail, acknowledge God and receive “the gifts” from the priest or deacon.
While I grew up in a very non-liturgical, Evangelical church, which looked down on all things “Catholic.” I found the experience mostly lacking. Most people fell asleep, including my father (who has a doctoral degree in missions and a masters degree in New Testament. I always figured if he couldn’t stay awake, there was no need for me to pay attention, either.)
When I was nineteen, my mother, sister and I started attending a little Episcopal church. We had to stand up and sit down and recite things as a group. The priest said something and we had to respond back. There was no way to fall asleep. We were included. God calls us to participate, not be spectators. How can one participate in faith in daily life if they aren’t even allowed participate on Sunday mornings?
So, back to the bread and the wine…. On Mother’s Day I went to church with my mother, who now attends a different church from me. The minister told a story that struck me. He said he noticed every time the Communion plate was passed, (they sit in the pew and pass Communion in this church) people would rummage around for the smallest piece of bread they could find. Then one week he instructed those preparing for Communion to break all the pieces of bread large and evenly. Everyone was forced to take a large piece of bread. The bread equals the Body of Jesus Christ, which is the embodiment of God’s grace. He then said he wanted to administer the wine with a firehose, but thought he might get in too much trouble for the mess.
So often we go through life taking the smallest piece of everything for ourselves and leaving the larger, more generous portions for others. We serve everyone else wine at dinner and take the last sip for ourselves, insisting it is what we really wanted anyway. We don’t want to make a mess. I say we are fooling no one and that line is a load of crap that needs to be taken out to the trash and left there. We do not really want the smallest bite or sip. We want the whole loaf and whole bottle for ourselves. If we can start living life with the idea that we are just as worthy of grace and abundance as everyone else around us, then how much more will we have to share with those we love?
A whole loaf and a whole bottle. A little mess. A girl cannot give that what she has not received.