A Year of No Communion
Audio version here: https://anchor.fm/southern-bon-vivant/episodes/A-Year-of-No-Communion-eu5t0p
I realized recently… it’s been a whole year since I’ve had communion.
Specifically, a year since church communion. Communion is a big deal in the Episcopalian church.
I also realized, the word communion isn’t just applicable to the bread and body of Christ at church- but holding communion can also mean the space in which we are with people. It’s been a year since I’ve been in a gathering of friends. I’ve met with some friends here and there, but always with this trepedation- without this unfettered happiness that I used to have.
Along with that, I’ve also found deeper joys elsewhere. Re-connecting with friends. A meaningful romantic relationship. Perhaps a year with no communion also took away the meaningless interactions, and forced something more genuine. Allowed me to take a chance and be open to rekindling friendships that I had let die for way too long. Allowing me to be open to thinking that this man who I had secretly crushed on for so long… perhaps there actually WAS something there? Perhaps I could reach the deeper joy beyond the meaningless one off terrible dates I’d had for way too many days.
Tomorrow is the end of Lent- the coming of Easter and all of the joy it brings. But just before that joy is a deep sorrow. Jesus was, as Bishop Wright so often has said on his podcast, lynched on the cross. In front of his mother, his friends, in front of the crowd that had just a few days earlier cheered him on that now called for his death. I sat in that as I listened to the weekly podcast- one that y’all will know I listen to with devotion if you’ve kept up with me here. I sat in the image of the same crowd that cheered on Palm Sunday then reviled Jesus on Good Friday, such a quick turn of events.
There’s a lot of comparison to where so many of us are right now with that Lenten season. We’ve been in this holding pattern for way too long. I know, for me, I am on the cusp of everything I have ever wanted in life. A good man, amazing kids, settling down into a steady pattern of life and trust and love that I have never known. Every time it has been promised to me it would vanish, and I was left with plans B C or even D.
So many people have lost love, have lost the lives they thought they were meant to lead over the past year- and even before then. A worldwide pandemic isn’t the only event that can bring about catastrophic change.
Someone recently caused me to wonder if I was living life as I should- this wasn’t mean, or even their intent, but it left me there. I’ve said before so many times here that I am like Doubting Thomas: “I need to place my fingers in the flesh of the risen Christ before I can sing my Alleluias again. I waver between that feeling of great doubt and one of great faith when I see so many around me suffering. Knowing that God is here for me and has raised me above so much and while I never doubt his love for me- I cannot tell someone else they should not. What does that make me?” Being like Doubting Thomas can cast a shadow over other parts of my life at times, and it doesn’t always allow me to be the best person that I can. But one thing that I was raised in was that one can overcome that, the doubt, the questioning, and often times that can make our faith even stronger than it was before. By allowing us to examine what is in front of us and to reach a deeper faith than there would have been otherwise.
Even as we bring Alleluia back into our worship tomorrow, so many of us are still waiting to bring it back into our daily lives. Waiting for the darkness over their souls to recede. We aren’t quite out of the woods yet, whether it’s from COVID or any other thing that plagues you. I rewatched the Easter broadcast from last year at the National Cathedral. Last year, I was so proud of all of the pivots people were making, and I really thought we would be back to normal soon. I was just starting to be afraid, to stock up on various items, but I still had hope that the summer would bring the end of it all. Watching that broadcast again, I burst into tears… the weight of the past year and where we were at this point came upon me.
Tomorrow I won’t have my usual beloved Episcopal music, the church service being held at a time when I wasn’t able to go, but I will be visiting another that I also love- with a preacher who has helped so many of us through it. I’ll be doing so with my guy with us. There is hope on the horizon, and this Easter it carries an even deeper meaning.
Love to all y’all,
Molly
