Here at First UMC of West Newton, the time-honored way of celebrating Communion is by kneeling at the altar rail to receive the bread and cup. We celebrate with small cubes of homemade bread and the "shot glass" distribution of the juice.
When I first arrived here, I was struck by the extreme passivity of the parishioners in this sacrament. They would not do anything unless directed by the pastor. They stand at the altar and stare at me or their shoelaces, waiting for the imperative to "kneel as you are able." Then they receive the bread and cup, but will not eat or drink until the pastor gives some verbal cue to do so. The first time I presided over Communion here was a bit awkward, as I had not prepared to give such directives. I did not expect pastoral ministry would require me to boss people around in the celebration of a sacrament. I'm not the type of person who particularly enjoys telling other people what to do - especially in something as simple as eating a cube of bread and drinking a shot of grape juice. Who are these people, anyway? These are adults; they shouldn't need me to hold their hand and walk them through every step of Communion. Perhaps this is what the Bishop meant when he commissioned me to "Order."
But now, I'm beginning to understand. These people don't need someone to give them verbal cues. They're not waiting for permission. What's really going on here is a deep understanding of why we call it Holy Communion. These people know this isn't a frivolous monthly practice. While we ought not take Communion too seriously, we should approach it with some sense of reverence. After all, this is Jesus Christ, broken for us, poured out for us, present with us in the giving of the bread and cup. Maybe we ought not to rush into the eating and drinking, lest we suffer from spiritual indigestion. Maybe we should take our time and allow someone to tell us what we are really doing at the table, so we have time to process the magnitude of our actions.
And, this congregation also understands why it is Holy Communion. With each group of 15-20 that approaches the altar, they wait to kneel so all may kneel together. They wait to eat so all may eat together. They wait to drink so all may drink together. In this, the celebrant is not the "boss" but the conductor. I am not ordering them what to do and when. No, I'm helping them eat together, to commune. Perhaps this is the role of a pastor - to help the assembled kneel together, eat together, drink together, and pray together, so that Christ may come alive in our midst. May it be so on the first Sunday of every month, and all the days in between.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
5 Things Never to Say to a Young Pastor
5. So, who's the senior pastor?
Me. Contrary to popular belief, sometimes young adults can be trusted in a single pastor appointment. In fact, until recently, these appointments were quite common.
4. Oh, our kids/grandkids are your age!
The observation itself is not usually annoying, but you can see that the speakers are imagining their kids/grandkids as a pastor. This often leads to them realizing that their kids would not be a good pastor because they see them as: a)irresponsible, b)not into religion or its traditions, c)still kids even though they're adults, or d)all of the above. They then associate you with all of these things, and start doubting whether or not someone their kids or grandkids' age has any wisdom to share.
3. I'm sure you're great with the youth!
Age has less to do with being gifted in youth ministry than one might think. Some young adults, many of my friends included, are great at youth ministry. Others, myself included, are not. In fact, my father is more gifted in youth ministry than I am. I love the youth, I enjoy hanging out with them, teaching them, and learning from them, but I'm not gifted in youth ministry. Not all young adults are.
2. Oh, so you're going to do contemporary worship/get rid of our traditions/kick out the old people?!
Nope. Just because you think younger people hate everything you love and love everything you hate doesn't always mean they do.
1. You're too young to be a pastor.
Thanks. In one sentence, you have completely invalidated my choice of vocation. How is this any less offensive than telling a 60 year old, "You're too old to be an administrative assistant"?
Me. Contrary to popular belief, sometimes young adults can be trusted in a single pastor appointment. In fact, until recently, these appointments were quite common.
4. Oh, our kids/grandkids are your age!
The observation itself is not usually annoying, but you can see that the speakers are imagining their kids/grandkids as a pastor. This often leads to them realizing that their kids would not be a good pastor because they see them as: a)irresponsible, b)not into religion or its traditions, c)still kids even though they're adults, or d)all of the above. They then associate you with all of these things, and start doubting whether or not someone their kids or grandkids' age has any wisdom to share.
3. I'm sure you're great with the youth!
Age has less to do with being gifted in youth ministry than one might think. Some young adults, many of my friends included, are great at youth ministry. Others, myself included, are not. In fact, my father is more gifted in youth ministry than I am. I love the youth, I enjoy hanging out with them, teaching them, and learning from them, but I'm not gifted in youth ministry. Not all young adults are.
2. Oh, so you're going to do contemporary worship/get rid of our traditions/kick out the old people?!
Nope. Just because you think younger people hate everything you love and love everything you hate doesn't always mean they do.
1. You're too young to be a pastor.
Thanks. In one sentence, you have completely invalidated my choice of vocation. How is this any less offensive than telling a 60 year old, "You're too old to be an administrative assistant"?
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