Communion in an Age of Coronavirus

“I read that churches might not be allowed to serve communion before too long.” This information isn’t from some breathless internet rumor, but from my husband, who practices law in the area of employee benefits and health care. He’s been staying on top of the most recent coronavirus news to be able to advise his clients, although the data changes so rapidly that any advice is a moving target. Suffice it to say, though, that the information above is as reliable as anything else these days.

Since this morning is a communion Sunday, I’ve revised our practices already, as I’ll describe below. My motivation isn’t primarily epidemiological, but is born of compassion and theology.

I remember the early days of the AIDS crisis, when a positive diagnosis was a virtual death sentence. Avenues of contagion were still being discussed with some degree of uncertainty. Could you catch it from a public restroom? What about a doorknob? (No and no, of course, but these questions were being asked in those early days.) I noticed that several people in my church stopped taking communion. As I held the communion cup one day, I looked out into the congregation and saw a young man remaining in the pew, with his eyes filled with tears. I spoke to him after the service, and he told me why he remained seated. He had been diagnosed HIV/AIDS, and he didn’t want to risk infecting others. I realized immediately his commonality with the others who weren’t coming forward. 

My heart broke for him. Not only was he facing a terribly uncertain future, but he was staying away from the gift of the sacrament of communion. The fear of contagion prevented him from receiving a wonderful soul gift of Christ.

If anyone reading these words rolls their eyes that anyone would be so ill-informed about the transmission of HIV/AIDS, then be grateful that you never had to know those days. Fear is our default response to the unknown, and an unknown, potentially fatal virus creates its own class of fear. As we are experiencing now.

I never want anyone to not be able to receive Christ’s gift of holy communion as a result of fear. That sacrament is exactly what we need in the face of fear, to strengthen and fill us for the days ahead. And so, in order that the Lord’s Table may be open to all of us with all of our fears and hopes and needs, we will be sharing in communion in this manner today and in coming weeks:

Rather than a common cup, we’ll be using the small individual cups. (I will stop referring to them as “shot glasses,” after one of my communion assistants wondered if we needed to provide salt and lime wedges also.) We had given away our trays that hold those little cups and had to purchase more on Friday. Worth it. 

We will serve bread by having the communion servers observe the Sacrament of Purell. Then they will tear off pieces of the bread and drop them into person’s hand. The dropping of the bread is a new thing. Previously, we would have handed the bread more directly to a person, but we are working to eliminate any touching that might transmit germs. By the way, we had considered going to individual wafers, but people rummage around in the wafers a bit with their fingers because it’s hard to pick one up without touching any other wafers. 

In addition to our usual plate of gluten-free wafers, we will also have a few gluten-full wafers, in case anyone truly wants their own wafer. 

We will do whatever it takes so that no one feels excluded from the Lord’s Table, even in this time of potential pandemic. We aren’t acting this way out of germophobia, but out of deep and abiding love for God’s people, and for the power contained within the sacrament of communion. Now more than ever, we need this gift of Christ, and we need each other.

See you at the Lord’s Table!

Ashes, Interviews, and the UMC

Over my years of ministry, I have learned that Ash Wednesday is one of the holiest and most profound holidays for a pastor. The very act of smudging ashes on a person creates moments of great humanity. There are the practical aspects of the act, such as navigating glasses, hairstyles, and the way a little bit of ash can go a really long way on a human face. These details pale in comparison to the real power of the ashes, which has everything to do with the people themselves.

Speaking the words “remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return” to people whose burdens you know well is hugely affecting. Speaking those same words to persons about whom you haven’t got a clue reminds a pastor that God’s grace isn’t reliant on the pastor at all.

Tell your own child as you smudge ashes on them, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” and you’ll be unable to parent in the same way again. (At least through dinnertime.) Ditto for spouses. You will see the people you love most with new eyes when the ashes on your thumb match the ashprint on their foreheads.

More than once, I have looked into the eyes of a parishioner while saying those words, and both of us have known with certainty that before the year is out I’ll be saying “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” over them in a cemetery. The raw, aching honesty of those moments remains a part of me.

The ashes are only the first stop. Directly behind me and my bowl of ashes is the Lord’s table, where the body and blood of Christ await. After all, Christ himself knew all about ashes and death. The deepest ash heap is nothing compared to the grace and hope found in Christ, and we cannot receive the ashes without receiving the gift of bread and cup and hope.

I can't help but look at my last week through the lens of Ash Wednesday. Some of you may be aware that I’ve been endorsed as a candidate for a different position come July.  As part of that process, I was blessed to participate in a wide variety of conversations (okay, well, "interviews") last week with a whole bunch of people who are working diligently for the future of the UMC.

I am deeply appreciative of all of their hard work, because we’ve got to get this crucial moment in the life of our denomination right. But on this Ash Wednesday, I’ll have the responsibility and privilege of speaking to my people about the realities of their souls. When they come forward for the ashes, their main concern in those moments will not be on the future of the UMC. Their focus this night will be inevitably on weightier issues of mortality, faith, and hope. Their gaze will be over my shoulder to the life-giving communion elements awaiting them.

“Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  Once you’ve heard that, nothing else matters more than the words, “The body and blood of Christ, given for you.” For all of us working towards a renewed UMC, my hope and prayer this Ash Wednesday is simply that the body of the UMC may continue to be the body of Christ, broken yet life-giving, for an ash-smudged, hurting world.

Thoughts on the Protocol, Post Pre-GC2020 Meeting

(Here's another UM-centric post. My apologies to my non-UM-interested friends, you might want to check back in the autumn.)

Having spent a few days last week in Nashville at the Pre-General Conference 2020 Briefing, I wanted to share a few thoughts about my sense of the future of the UMC, in particular the Protocol of Reconciliation and Grace through Separation. I’ve written about the gist of the Protocol elsewhere, my intent here is to offer further reflections based on last week’s meeting. The thoughts below are my own, by the way, so feel free to take them with as many grains of salt as you’d like.

The Protocol is a legitimate proposal that most leaders from throughout the theological spectrum agree is likely our best option to move forward well. I have seen respected leaders from the traditionalist, moderate, and progressive branches hold to their agreement to support this plan. Even so, there are folks from both of the ends of the theological spectrum who are not satisfied. From the far right, “We ‘won’ in St. Louis, why do we have to leave?” From the far left, “There is justice for no one until there is justice for everyone, and to continue to allow some who remain the UMC to deny marriage and ordination to LGBT persons is unjust.” Overall, though, the Protocol seems to be holding, for now.

We don’t trust each other, and that lack of trust may be the thing that endangers the passage of the Protocol in May. We saw that lack of trust in the presentations at the pre-General Conference meeting on the various proposals. Presenters would discuss their plan in some detail for the first 19 minutes of their allotted 20-minute time span. At the very end would be the comment, “Oh, and by the way, we fully support the Protocol.” As one of my tablemates said, “It would have made a much bigger statement if they had simply stood up and said, ‘We support the Protocol’ and sat down.” They could have then ceded the rest of their time to a deeper conversation about the Protocol. Since each side doesn’t trust the other (and this lack of trust is legitimate, based on much past experience), each side continues to make contingency plans in case the Protocol sinks. Similar to the duel at the end of “Hamilton,” (spoiler alert, in case you haven’t seen it or dozed through that part of your American History classes), if we can’t trust what the other will do, (figurative) blood might be shed, even if by accident.

More thought needs to be given to what happens post-Protocol. This comment isn’t a critique, simply an observation. The Protocol is freshly created, and the legislation is being written as I write. There hasn’t been time yet to think about what happens in our Annual Conferences and churches the day after the Protocol is adopted. There are mechanics to consider, such as what would be required for an Annual Conference who might be ready to vote to leave as soon as two weeks after the end of General Conference. Will our district superintendents be prepared to respond when their phones ring on May 16 with churches that are ready to vote to leave?  Where will the churches go who make a different choice about leaving or staying than their Annual Conference has made? Will we who remain in the UMC use this opportunity to create a new denomination that works well for our day and age, or will we simply retain our current church structure?

Strong leadership will be more crucial in this next quadrennium than ever before. If we can manage this separation well, we can all emerge stronger and more equipped to live out our mission than before. If our separating is instead marked by bickering and messiness, then our combined witness will continue to diminish in the eyes of a watching world.

I pray that faith, hope, and love will be our choice, now and in the days to come.  Questions and obstacles to the Protocol exist, yet I believe that this agreement provides us our clearest path forward and will allow us to find renewed faith, hope, and love in this critical moment for the UMC.