When the teen server tore off a piece of bread and handed it to me, she looked at me and paused.
I waited for the words — “This is the Bread of Life.” Or, “the Body of Christ broken for you.” Which would she say?
She hesitated and then her face broke out into a big smile. “Hi,” she said. She had forgotten what she was supposed to say and simply greeted me.
I laughed and took the bread to dip into the challis.
The little girl beside her lifted the cup to me and said, in a tiny voice, “The cup of blessing.”
I dipped my bread and went back to my seat, still smiling.
Sometimes, in the somberness of the occasion, we forget that it was like a family meal in that upper room so long ago. I’m sure there was a clatter of dishes and hubbub of voices while everyone dined, reclining at the table.
Comings, goings, actions, conversations — all in the course of one meal.
Quiet introspection played no part.
Listening to Jesus did.
Sometimes, in the ceremony and formality of communion at church, we miss the human connection — and that’s what Jesus did on earth, connect with us in a very human way.
Communion amazes me every time.