The cup that we bless …

Being one of the few full time ministers among the country churches in our presbytery has meant that I’ve often had the task of helping serve many of our smaller country churches when they are without a pastor.  This has meant getting lost on many rambling county roads, preaching to congregations of 2-4 people at times and moderating some pretty interesting session*  meetings.  It has also meant serving communion when congregations were without an ordained minister for extended periods of time.

On one such occasion I met with a little country church as soon as I could hurry in from my own service.  Their worship was already in progress, one of the elders had spoken and I came in to administer the sacrament.  The communion table was set, the people were reverent.  I was out of breath but managed to read the words of institution.  As I removed the covering from the bread I noticed the standard white pieces of unleavened bread so many churches use — nothing unusual.  I took the cover off of the tray of individual cups, the color of the juice looked a little light … but oh well.  As I said the prayer of consecration I was concerned about how old the juice must be but figured it wouldn’t hurt me.  Then I ate the cracker and drank … Grapico !

No one had thought to bring the Welches so one of the elders ran up to the nearest gas station (no store for 20 miles was going to be open on a Sunday) and got two cans of grape soda out of the Coke machine.

Now I make it a habit of carrying my own elements when I’m asked to serve communion.

(*the governing board of the local congregation)

Image: country road by John Beagle  

3 thoughts on “The cup that we bless …

  1. Cheers Scott, that story brought a smile and a few childhood memories of having to run round to the local corner shop for fruit juice when the turnout was more than expected. Does your tradition have any particular rules about what kind of wine should be used? Any prohibition of alchohol, anything like that? Over here some churches don’t use alchoholic wine out of temperance principles, others to prevent any recovering alchoholics in the congregation from getting the taste, although many still use proper wine or port, causing many a minister to regret that Reformed theology doesn’t insist upon the preacher finishing every drop left over!

    By the way, I love what Herbert had to say in your last post. It’s a real tricky one, and something that those of you called to preach must especially feel, trying to reconcile our humanity in all it’s flawed guises with the call to serve. In my tradition the minister often starts communion with words of invitation which tie in quite neatly with what Herbert is saying:
    “Come, not because you are strong, but because you are weak. Come, not because any goodness of your own gives you a right to come, but because you need mercy and help. Come, because you love the Lord a little, and would like to love him more.”
    In other words, every reason you can find for not communing is precisely the reason why you should.

  2. Pretty much all of the major protestant churches in the South at least use grape juice. It’s a hold over from the temperance movement. (We also have ‘dry’ counties that don’t sell alcohol. Most places I have lived, even if they are ‘wet’ still have blue laws forbidding the sale of alcohol on Sundays.)
    It should at least be 100% grape juice though.

    I love the invitation, I’ll use that next time. Interestingly there is a tendency for our invitations to focus on denominations. Since we have so many different groups we usually remind people that all, regardless of what church they belong to, are invited to the table.

  3. That’s interesting, I didn’t realise the temperance movement was (still) so strong in the South. It might seem an anachronistic practice, but I quite admire communities willing to protect their dry status, even in this age.

    Yes, the invitation is quite special. It was written (I think) by Willie Barclay, late Prof of Biblical Studies at Glasgow Uni. As you’ll know from your studies, my tradition has quite an unfortunate history in over-zealously guarding the Communion table – these words of invitation offer a refreshing balance.

    Look forward to reading your next post.

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