Our church is blessed to have many young families and lots of small children. Little ones with loud voices, squirmy bodies, and enough energy to send off rocket ships. In my late sixties with step grandchildren in college, I have limited interaction with young children, and I was quite unprepared for what was a precious encounter with a three-year-old at the altar rail.
I have served as a Lay Eucharistic Minister (LEM) for many years. I love this ministry, the joy and intimacy that comes from sharing the chalice. Recently our church adopted a new practice at communion. After receiving the bread, people who choose to intinct their wafer now wait for the LEM to do this for them.
Coming down the altar rail I arrived in front of a little boy, wedged between two older siblings, holding on tight to his wafer. Kneeling, I smiled at him and asked if I could take the wafer, telling him that I would dip it in the wine and give it back to him. Never taking his eyes off me, he placed his wafer in his other hand and reached out to shake my hand. I was overcome with the tenderness of the moment; I felt my breath catch in my throat. I paused, reached for his little hand and we properly shook hands. After our handshake, I asked him again if I could take his wafer and this time, he gave it to me. I dipped it in the wine and returned it to him to consume. His dad reached over the children and took him back to the pew.
I am aware that this interaction held up the line, that the priest and people waited for me. But all I felt at that moment was blessing. The child did what he thought was expected of him, and his actions offered me the opportunity to enter a moment of divine grace. Experiencing such a beautiful encounter with this little boy was like stopping mid-flight.
Reflecting on this experience, I thought of the Eucharistic words attributed to Saint Augustine, ‘Behold who you are. Become what you receive.’ Like this sweet boy, I too can be confused about what is expected of me. Perhaps I will never understand the full power of the Eucharist, but for now I will come to the altar with as much quiet and presence as possible in my heart, and pray that I may see the extravagant love of God in this gift.
I am approaching my third year in this church and during these years we have been in a time of transition. No church has been unaffected by the years of Covid, and the challenges it presented. Change is hard and we often wish for things to return to the way they were pre-pandemic, forgetting that we are part of something much larger—the body of Christ. This brief encounter at the altar rail reminded me yet again that it is the Spirit that blows through the church refreshing, redirecting, and renewing. We are much more than a group of people who gather to worship on Sunday mornings.
This experience also affected my prayer life. I now pray intentionally for parents, for the difficult tasks ahead of them in our world, and for all these little ones who bless our church. Truly the beloved community is here, all of us together, helping each other, reaching out to each other, and asking for grace.
Thanks be to God.
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