The food was a bit tricky. I ended up tentatively eating the gf-option offered on a couple of occasions, but in the end it made me so nervous I just brought food from home. One of the servers kept saying she was "pretty sure" things were gluten-free. Um... no. Cue the Lara bars. I was lucky the conference was in town, where I could easily get food.
But I'm not here to dwell on the conference dilemma (though if any of you have additional insights, I'd give you about a million gf-cookies in exchange for some help on how to handle cafeteria-style meals at conferences...). I'm here to express the joy of partaking in communion.
The final day of the conference, we all stood in a circle for communion. I thought ahead and pocketed some gf crackers from home, thinking that--perhaps--there would be nothing for me. When this happens it's no one's fault, really. The church has been eating wheat-y bread for thousands of years, and Celiac disease is a relatively new phenomenon.
However, these were my colleagues, my friends, my mentors, and by golly, I wanted to be a part of things. One of the loneliest feelings in the world is to be someone who loves Jesus watching everyone else eat the bread and drink the cup while I eat and drink nothing at all. It feels very wrong and very sad, even when it's mere oversight and nothing more.
I got the all-clear from the conference head to put my crackers up on the corner of the communion table, and to pour a separate paper cup of the wine (grr.... I hate intinction for the very reason that it eliminates those with particular food allergies from the cup as well as the bread!).
The forty of us stood at the front of a chapel together in a circle. The leader said the words of institution, raised a loaf of beautiful bread, and broke it. The co-leader raised the cup of wine. Then they passed them around the circle so we could serve one another. It was a solemn and quiet moment, and I had a second of panic. What should I do? Leave the circle and serve myself? Wait until everyone was done and sneak over to the table? How could I be a part of the community in a way that was unobtrusive but still worshipful for me?
A friend of mine was in the circle right next to me. He's aware of my gf-status, and noticed the little package of crackers on the side of the communion table, along with a paper cup of wine. Alongside beautiful pottery plates and gorgeous chalices, hidden a little bit by the beautiful greenery of the table, was a plastic package and a paper cup. On his own, without me having to break the holy silence of communion, he noticed.
"Are those yours?" he whispered.
"Yeah," I whispered back. That was all. When the bread began to travel around the circle, he went and picked up the crackers for me.
"The body of Christ, broken for you, Courtney," he said, extending me a piece before his hands ever touched the bread. I kept the cracker in one hand and used the other to pass the loaf of bread to the next person in the circle.
"The body of Christ," I said, holding the bread, "broken for you."
My friend passed me my little paper cup of wine, too. I found myself tearing up a little. He had noticed, he had cared, and he had extended God's grace to me in that little cracker and that silly paper cup.
When the elements had passed around the circle, he was careful to put mine back on the table with the others.
It was just a small thing to him, but to me it was much, much bigger. I felt nearly normal in that circle, partaking with everyone else, being served by another, as was everyone else.
Today I'm thankful for the gluten-free grace of a friend.
Being able to commune with the body is so incredibly powerful. For many (about 9) years I was completely excluded from the communion table because of my GF status. In college someone finally realized that this was a problem and got GF elements for me. When I transitioned to seminary, I helped the seminary learn to provide acceptable GF communion for me (they'd been doing GF communion, but not in an acceptable way). But all along it was everyone else taking communion together and Joy taking communion. I had my own little plate, my own little cup. Sure I'd get served and it was wonderful, but it was still separate. I felt almost like a lesser part of the body.
ReplyDeleteLast week, the professor/pastor (we have an abundance of them here) presiding over the table took that into account. Instead of having the bread and juice/wine for everyone and the separate GF stuff for me, he got rid of the gluten-y bread. Everyone took GF communion. For the first time in my life I was included with everyone in communion. I cried. I was so incredibly overwhelmed by finally feeling like I belonged. I hope they do it again.
This is such a touching story, and what a beautiful illustration of what is means to be a Christian community: accepting, loving, and embracing everyone no matter our Earthly differences.
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