Communion

Seconds before getting up to join the communion line, my son coughs and draws in a big stream of phlegm. I immediately think about the fact that I always let my family go before me in the line; therefore, I will momentarily drink from the same cup as my coughing, phlegm-drawing son. However, that one-ness in the cup is the unsettling aspect of communion that draws me back week after week; God’s in the cup and so are you and I. I have always maintained a strong stance of open communion; whosoever will, come and jump in the cup.

The scene is from the film Little Children. Please hear me – this film earned its “R.” The neighborhood swimming pool is full of summertime children and their parents. Kids are splashing around, parents are leisurely keeping an eye out from their pool-side tables, and lifeguards are scanning the surface for any problems. And then he walks in. “He” is a pedophile who has just been released from his prison time. His gaunt frame and shifty eyes make you immediately squirm. He puts on a snorkel and fins and enters the water, as summertime children and their parents enjoy the moment. The camera then assumes the man’s view as he eyes lithe, young bodies swimming innocently in the pool. It is a harrowing scene. As an over-protective father-hen of three, it was almost too much to watch. Suddenly, one of the mothers recognizes him from news reports and begins screaming…and the dominoes begin to fall. Parents rush to the water’s edge with panic in their strides. Children see the fear in parents’ eyes and take it on themselves, not knowing exactly what’s happening, but sensing that something is very wrong. In a matter of seconds, the pool is cleared of children and the man is left standing, alone, in the center of the water. He then screams at the people, saying something like, “I just wanted to go swimming.” You don’t believe him…but then you do…but then you don’t again…but then you do…maybe.

Had I been in that scene in that film, you can bet your sweet chalice that I would’ve been right there, frantically pulling my kids out the water. But the disturbing message of this film is that we’re all little children and we’ve all sinned and fallen short of the glory; sometimes it’s overt stuff that makes headlines, but mostly it’s subtle transgressions of the heart that we keep neatly tucked between side-air bags and praise music. I view that scene now as one of communion. It was open to all, but it quickly became “closed” due to the presence of sin. And I thought about the phlegm in the cup I was about to take. And I also thought about the stuff I would leave in the cup – anger, greed, lust, sloth…and I wondered if the folks on the pew behind me realized just what would be swimming in the cup they’d soon take. And I also thought about the many times each week…shucks, each day, that I deny communion to people around me due to who I think they are or possibly what they’ve done. They just want to go swimming in the cup of God’s grace, but I hightail it out of those waters and leave them, alone, standing in the center of the cup.

The blood of Christ, shed for…you. And that “you” is both the singular and the plural. Jesus, forgive me, forgive us, when we withhold the chalice of communion. It is not our blood in the cup; if that were the case, we would be lost indeed. No, it is your bloodstream into which we bring our phlegm and our wrath and our bitterness and our hate. We, all of us, little children, have sinned and we, all of us, little children just want to go swimming. It is a cup full of serpents and doves and you, O Lord. Your grace frightens me, Jesus…