“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!
