All things come from Thee, O Lord

The word "Debts" is typed in black onto a sheet of white paper.
A pencil is eraser, above right has been erasing the word, leaving it visible,
but fading.

“All things come from Thee, O Lord, and of thine own have we given Thee.”

These are the traditional words said by the priest when receiving and giving thanks for the Sunday offering. We do not use them at St. Martin's, but they echo in my head every time the gifts of the assembly come forward.

At worship.together, the children pass small wicker bread baskets for the collection. The stuffed baskets come up to our little altar and every Sunday I experiment with what to say. Inevitably, what I say is a version of “All things come from Thee, O Lord….” because it is the most essential truth, and that is what we share with children and adults.

For me, it is very simple. What do I owe to God? I owe everything to God. There is no me without God. There are no gifts in life without God. There is no opportunity to serve and to offer and join in life-saving, life-giving mission without God. So I owe God everything.

In abundant divine mercy and generosity, God only asks for a tenth of all I have. Imagine being presented with a bill for 100% of your net worth and then having the debt collector scratch out 90% of what you owe, indicating that 10% will cover the whole debt. Imagine the relief and gratitude and joy. Our generous and generative God gives us all we are and all we have and only asks for a tribute of 10% to further God’s work in return.

As much as we might strain to make an alternative algorithm for our response to God’s abundance, the math only works in one way. I might assert that, I deserve, I am owed, I am entitled, I have earned, I have achieved, but when all is gift and all is God’s we stop calculating and start giving back with gratitude and freedom secured by God’s promises.

Now, many who are addressed by God’s grace and love discern a calling to give even more back to God. Some give their whole life. They are the saints, martyrs, missionaries, monks and nuns, and lay-religious who express their dedication to God in total devotion of life to God’s purposes. We need to keep them in mind. Do we imagine our life as one of growth in commitment and dedication in response to God’s generosity?

Stewardship is a moment for self-examination. To whom is our life oriented? Have we grown in grace this past year? Have we de-centered our life-focus from ego to love for God and neighbor? Are we growing in the love that values the good of all others on the same level as our own good and that of our families?

I wish you a rich and rewarding and happy self-examination. May it be inspired by God’s generosity and return to God that same abundance.

Blessings,

The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel

Rector

Exhausting Our Lord

Text in graphic: This Week in the Rector's Note: Exhausting our Lord. 10.3.2019.
Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Episcopal
"Jesus must find me exhausting."
Graphic: Photograph of a statue of a woman, possibly Mary the Mother of God,
with her head down and resting on her left hand, with fingers curled under.
The stone statue appears to be attached to a stone building - there are bare tree
branches in the distance in the top right of the image. the stone is considerably
covered with moss on the top of the veiled head and the hand.

Jesus must find me exhausting.
This thought occurred to me while at prayer during my vacation. Here I was listing off all my needs, sharing my sorrows and hurts, praying for my long list of friends and family in need, and begging for guidance, serenity, wisdom, courage, and every other virtue I lack, when I suddenly had tremendous sympathy for Jesus! What would it be like to be bombarded by this catalogue of woes daily by millions of people?

My instant reflex was to mutter an apology to Jesus for bothering him so much. Recognizing my neurotic guilt, I had a good laugh at myself and my stinking thinking and then - by God’s grace - I returned to awe and admiration for Jesus. How much love does it take to have enough love for everyone? I struggle to be adequately loving day in and day out to my little family of four. We are talking about a whole other scale of love here.

That is a huge relief for me and, I hope, for you. While I want always to grow in love as God’s grace nurtures me into “the full stature of Christ,” I need to admit that the world is too big and too demanding for even the highest capacity my loving will ever reach. What the world needs is the love of Jesus direct from him. The best I can do is to hopefully give folks a glimpse of that surpassing, all encompassing love in fragmentary form.
“What the world needs now is love, sweet love,” sang Burt Bacharach and he was so right. What we realize as we age and grow in wisdom through the crucible of marriage, parenting, family life, community life, friendship, and work is that we need a source of love beyond ourselves if we are going to do our part of that loving.

Blessings,
The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel
Rector

Stop Hiding, Open Up those Boxes

Image: A pale wood box with a gold clasp sits slightly open, with the opening of the box turned 20-30 degrees to the left.
Text in graphic: This Week in the Rector's Note "We are all wounded. Self-awareness, honesty, and trusting community help us turn our wounds into gifts of wisdom, sensitivity, and compassion. ...Again and again in pastoral caregiving at St. Martin’s I encounter wonderful people who are adding suffering to their suffering because they think they are the only one struggling in the community." - Stop Hiding, Open Up those Boxes. 9.26.2019. Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Episcopal.

A journalist asked Brad Pitt the following question during an interview about his upcoming movie, “Was Ad Astra a way to work through some of the loneliness you may have been experiencing?” His answer was vulnerable and revealing, “The fact is, we all carry pain, grief, and loss,” he said. “We spend most of our time hiding it, but it’s there, it’s in you. So you open up those boxes.”

The article then gives the back story which I quote at length:

It was reported that the final straw in Pitt’s 11-year relationship with (Angelina) Jolie came in September 2016, when they fought about his drinking while aboard a private plane. Now, Pitt is committed to his sobriety. “I had taken things as far as I could take it, so I removed my drinking privileges,” he told me. After she filed for divorce, Pitt spent a year and a half in Alcoholics Anonymous. 

His recovery group was composed entirely of men, and Pitt was moved by their vulnerability. “You had all these men sitting around being open and honest in a way I have never heard,” Pitt said. “It was this safe space where there was little judgment, and therefore little judgment of yourself.” 

Astonishingly, no one from the group sold Pitt’s stories to the tabloids. The men trusted one another, and in that trust, he found catharsis. “It was actually really freeing just to expose the ugly sides of yourself,” he said. “There’s great value in that.”

I am grateful for the brave honesty Brad Pitt displays in this interview. My hope is that his example helped hundreds, maybe thousands of people, come out of hiding and into spaces transparency, trust, healing, and growth.

“We all carry pain, grief, and loss.” We are all wounded. Self-awareness, honesty, and trusting community help us turn our wounds into gifts of wisdom, sensitivity, and compassion. Hiding, avoiding, and denying cause wounds to fester into self-destructive behaviors and acting out which passes the harm to others. God’s grace transforms our despair over our wounds into hope for progress and growth into a “new creation.”

Again and again in pastoral caregiving at St. Martin’s I encounter wonderful people who are adding suffering to their suffering because they think they are the only one struggling in the community. They tell me that they feel that “everyone else” must “have it all together;” “have it all figured out,” or “have it easy.” When we only present ourselves as happy, high achieving, successful, and winning - that is, when we only share one side of our life - without knowing it we may be increasing the isolation of someone who is struggling. One of the most helpful things we can say to someone is, “You are not alone.”

I want St. Martin’s to be a community of love, acceptance, and grace where people feel free to come out of hiding and find the healing we all crave. Our church is called to be this way because Jesus was this way, and he continues to give us what we need to brave the journey into honesty and vulnerability.

In God’s presence there is no hiding, no deception, no masks, and no facade. As the Prayer Book says so beautifully, God is the one, “unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid.” We are transparent before God’s pervasive light and all encompassing love.

Blessings,
The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel
Rector

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If you'd like to know more about addiction and recovery, please join us at Parish Forum on Sunday, October 6 where Steele Stevens will lead a discussion on Understanding Addictions. Learn more on our Parish Forum page.

A Pond in the Sand

"The spiritual life is one of opening ourselves so the waters of God's grace can fill us."

Trips to the Jersey Shore with my friends Dan and Rick were a summer highlight when I was a child. Between bouts of body surfing, we would often spend hours constructing elaborate sand castles just inside the high tide line. Our castles had towers, walls, moats, and ponds.

Spreading our hands in the wet sand we would make a hole that would fill with water and make a little pond until the tide would return and engulf it.

This image captivates me. The spiritual life is one of opening ourselves so the waters of God’s grace can fill us. The water of grace is all around us all the time, but in our usual closed off state it does not fill us. Through prayer, worship, study, service, and fellowship we collaborate with Jesus who carved out the open space we now are able to share.

Imagine in our life of prayer that we are gently pushing back the sand to let the water flow into our souls, refreshing and filling us.

The tide of our culture always wants to return and close us off again. The heavy cynicism, the hatefulness, the distractions, the vices and general challenges of life want to erase our open place and return us to the conformity of this world.

Here is the good news, however: in Jesus, the sand of our soul remains ever pliable and the water of grace is always at hand, waiting for even the slightest opening to gush in and slake our thirst.

Blessings,

The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel

Rector

Before the Crisis

The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel

Mortality has a way of focusing our attention. Suffering, anguish, and crisis put daily distractions in perspective and focus our minds on what is essential. Most people seek out pastoral support in times of crisis. We are always here for you in that moment whatever time of day or whichever day of the week. Always make that call. We have the spiritual resources most needed in crisis - love, listening, compassion, prayer, community, and most importantly the presence of Christ in sacraments and in the midst of believing people. “Wherever two or three are gathered, I will be in the midst of you,” said Jesus.


In a sense we can be grateful for crisis and suffering when they encourage us to “wake up,” “seek help,” “go deeper,” and “depend on God.” On the other hand, I would like to advise all of us to engage our spiritual growth and development well before the moment of crisis hits. Imagine getting the horrible news that you have only months to live. Do you want to cram a lifetime of spiritual growth and development into those months when coping will be hard enough? The Good News teaches us that God will complete our healing on the other side of death. But, we will be better equipped to meet all our challenges on this side of mortality if we have embraced the learning and growing made available by grace each regular, normal day.

If I have learned one thing in 23 years of ministry it is that people who embrace the baptismal cycle of dying to self and rising to new life in Christ during their quotidian life are more prepared for the final instance of that cycle when death comes.

Perhaps it all depends on what you think the end game is. If you are only preparing for eternal life with God in the hereafter, perhaps you can leave your spiritual growth to the last minute. On the other hand, if your desire is to witness to the Gospel in this life - for your life, your love, your energy to radiate the life-shaping freedom of the Good News now - then we need to delve deeply into prayer, scripture, community, service, and intentional spiritual reflection daily.

The latter path requires virtues acquired through habit, through practice. Only through daily prayer, weekly study, steady service, and ongoing, faithful relationships do we build a heart attuned to what God is saying to us. Such a life of habitual approach to God both requires and builds up the virtues of endurance, perseverance, courage, and patience in us. These virtues bring a steadiness to our life that we desperately need in tumultuous and distracting times. Reacting to every provocation, chasing every fad, making every minute productive, chasing immediate gratification - these habits pull our souls apart, leaving us exhausted, fragmented, and ungrounded. The Good News is that we know a better way.

Blessings,
The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel
Rector

Connect into the community of faith:
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Contact the clergy in crisis:

Rev. Jarrett Kerbel, rector
jkerbel@stmartinec.org | 215.247.7466 x101 | 215.704.5499 cell

Rev. Anne Thatcher, associate rector
athatcher@stmartinec.org | 215.247.7466 x105 | 509.876.1924 cell

Rev. Carol Duncan, deacon
carol.duncan8031@gmail.com | 330.705.4795 cell

Barbara Ballenger, associate for spiritual formation & care and postulant
bballenger@stmartinec.org | 215.247.7466 x102

Another Ramp

Nellie Greene has a front row seat at the dedication.

On Sunday, March 22 we dedicated the new ramp and Hopkins Terrace outside the Willow Grove Avenue entrance to the church. That morning, the following story was read about one of our long-time members, Nellie Greene. We are grateful to this community for its support of our Next Level Accessibility campaign and proud to have completed this next stage in St. Martin's Welcome to All.  

At the General Convention of the Episcopal Church in Denver, Colorado, on July 10, 2000, a deacon of the church, the Rev. Nellie Greene, read the Gospel lesson at the opening daily service of worship. She did this using her electronic voice.

Not surprising, this irregular idea was Nellie’s. Living out her ministry of inclusion, Nellie had become a very strong advocate for those who have gifts, but limited abilities. She understood fully the loss of abilities. Over the years, she has shared her story with others in this way,

“I am a severely disabled, ordained deacon of the church. My disability is brain damage which my body received in a severe car accident on my way to college in 1970. ...My body has been left crippled with rigidity, and I am legally blind, unable to write or speak. I am totally dependent on a wheelchair for mobility. But I communicate with a talking lap-top; a desk top PC and in social settings, I use a “letter board”, made especially for me, with alphabet letters, familiar phrases and responses, to which I can point. I also talk with my face, my smile and my eyes.” 

Early in 1999, Nellie made known to the national church leaders her desire to read the Gospel at General Convention, using her electronic voice. This was received with understandable concern. Doubts were expressed, and issues began to be addressed. Nellie cooperated fully, but did not give ground as an advocate for the disabled. Yes, it was asking to do something not done before. Yes, it would be hearing a reading of the Gospels in a new key.

As the convention neared, two issues remained. First, how would the deacon in a wheelchair reach the altar? The general convention altar is highly elevated for all to see and relate to the liturgy of worship.  Secondly, how would the use of an electronic voice be managed through a complicated sound system?  

For the first issue, possibly two very strong fellow deacons could lift Nellie in her chair and carry her up the many steps of the highly raised dais, where she could take her place as deacon near the altar. As for the electronic voice device, sound engineers could link it into the system.

There was a measure of real anxiety for everyone about these plans as Nellie and her family prepared to leave Philadelphia for Denver.

At the convention center she was met by the chair of the worship committee who began to explain how the electronic voice would function. Nellie’s strength came forth again. “No”, she said. “The device will be on my lap. The batteries are new, and my rector, Bob Tate, is prepared to come forward with a hand mike to pick up the reading. Nothing else need be done. It will work.” 

Next, the question about how, in her wheelchair, she could become part of the group at the altar. It was then shown to her that a very fine ramp of accessibility to the altar had been built especially for this event...the first ever at general convention. That was impressive.

The next morning for the first daily Eucharist of Convention, the altar party gathered with the presiding bishop to begin the procession. As the music soared, and the voices sang, the procession moved gracefully around to the left of the dais, and then together everyone up the ramp of accessibility. Bob Tate carefully maneuvered the chair in which sat the deacon.

When it was time for the Gospel to be read, Nellie was moved forward in her chair. She flipped the switch to her electronic voice, and the Gospel of Matthew filled the hall with clear words.

Much later in the day, as she was moved through the vast exhibit hall of resources for ministry, Nellie was stopped countless times by those wanting to express their thoughts to her. One was unforgetable:  The leader of the Deacons in the Diocese of Denver came and bent low to speak directly to Nellie in the chair. He took off his handsome deacon cap made especially for this convention and placed it on her head. “Nellie,” he said loud enough for all to hear, “thank you for lifting our sights and stretching us. If you can do what you do, there is nothing that the rest of us cannot do!”

Nellie continues to live out her personal mission statement:

“My mission is to encourage, enlighten, and inspire with humor and compassion, all whom I meet, especially children, the elderly, and persons with disabilities. I urge them to be responsible to each other, the earth, and all sentient beings so they will know their value as children of God.”

Please join us again at Easter Vigil on Saturday, April 4 at 8:00 p.m. as we once again gather on Hopkins Terrace and then process up the ramp into the church for worship, as was done at General Convention in the story, at our ramp dedication, Palm Sunday, and will continue to be our new tradition of accessible access in honor of Nellie, Chris, and all those who have and will yet bless us with their presence and teaching.

OHC and Me

Holy Cross Monastery in spring

As we approach our annual Lenten Retreat to Holy Cross Monastery in West Park, New York, I would like to share my feelings about this special place with the congregation. Holy Cross, for me, is what the Celts call a “thin place,” that is a place where God is especially accessible.

Here is my story…

In 1988, as a depressed and strung-out college junior I had a dream one night about Holy Cross Monastery based on a vague memory from a childhood visit. Though I was studying religion at the time I had abandoned the church and scoffed at faith. The day after this vivid dream, I called my mother and described the dream to her. She identified it immediately as Holy Cross. I asked her to book me a room for spring break that year leaving her completely baffled. 

I flew home to New Jersey between terms, took New Jersey Transit to New York and Metro North to Poughkeepsie, where a monk met me at the train station. Armed with a stack of books to defend myself against religion I set up camp in a room on the third floor. For some reason, however, I attended every worship service.  

Whether it was Matins, Vespers, Prime, or Compline, I always sat in the back row of the chapel, body turned resolutely away from the brothers, chagrined by all the religiousness and feeling self-righteous and "too smart for all this."  

To the surprise of the monks and myself, on my last day, I went up for the Eucharistic around the altar. Like St. Martin's, the community gathers around the table for the celebration of the Lord’s Supper. At the passing of the peace I was overcome by God's loving presence and the divine desire to receive me. I sobbed through the Eucharistic Prayer as every word rang clear as a bell in my heart and mind. The mental image of a sharp, clean, silver needle passing a slender thread through the words and through my heart carried me through the emotionally wrenching moment. With God’s gentle, nurturing love overwhelming my resistance, my healing had begun.

After the dismissal, I bolted down to the Hudson and cried for an hour or so before a brother found me and got me to my train on time.

Holy Cross will forever be for me the place where God began to knit me back together again. I return there as often as I can because the grace I receive there helps me to grow deeper into the mystery of God. It is a place where God can polish my soul so it can glow with God’s light.

I hope you will consider attending our retreat in March. Perhaps you can give this retreat as a gift to your spouse. Take the kids for the weekend and give your beloved the chance for some renewal. Ask your teenage son or daughter – or college-aged child – if they would like to attend. They are most welcome. Find more information on the Wellspring page of StMartinEC.org.

- The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel

So what's this Choir Pilgrimage about anyway?

Exeter Cathedral

Exactly three months after Easter Sunday, our choir will embark on our 125^th anniversary pilgrimage to England, where we’ll sing as choir-in-residence at Exeter Cathedral and at our namesake church, St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Trafalgar Square, London. I am honored to be able to take our choir on this trip, and am counting the days until departure. I am very fortunate to have attended two similar choral pilgrimages with the Choir of St. Paul’s Cathedral in Erie PA; these trips moved me deeply, and remain in the forefront my memory. I am eager to add to these memories this summer.

We are rehearsing to sing six Evensongs and one Eucharist in one week – that’s 27 choral pieces, not including psalms and hymns. The musical preparations are exhausting, but very much part of the journey, and just as important as the actual services. Singing in a massive, ancient Cathedral will be a powerful experience, but the routine of daily Evensong will make an indelible mark on each of us.

A word about Evensong – this is something that no other church has. Other denominations have similar services such as Vespers or Evening Prayer, but Evensong is much more than a service. It is a culture. While the Church of England reports low attendance generally, Evensong, especially in Cathedrals, remains attended, and is broadcasted on radio and television. In fact, a recent rise in Cathedral attendance is said to be directly related to daily Evensong: http://www.economist.com/blogs/prospero/2014/03/cathedral-choirs

There is much to be said about this. Every Evensong, two canticles are sung, the Magnificat (Song of Mary) and the Nunc Dimittis (Song of Simeon) – I’m going to focus on the Magnificat.

My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior.
For he hath regarded the lowliness of his handmaiden.
For behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For he that is mighty hath magnified me, and holy is his Name.
And his mercy is on them that fear him throughout all generations.
He hath showed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek.
He hath filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant Israel, as he promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed for ever.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.

St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Trafalgar Square, London

What weighty words Mary has given us to pray! It’s the whole Bible in a handful of verses: God, doing the unexpected, turning the tables on the powerful, exalting the lowly. Everything that we know about the world is wrong – the rich get nothing, the poor get everything. God’s ways are not our own. There is something deeply mystical about singing the Magnificat every day for a week. At our church, singing Evensong only once a month, the Magnificat takes a tone of joy and praise, a loud cry of exultation. When sung every day, it becomes a powerful rhythm, so slow and so deep that we can barely hear it. This rhythm has pulsed every day for centuries, for millennia even. It pulsed from the earliest stories of Genesis, in the Exodus from Egypt, through the resurrection of Christ, and continues to pulse today. It pulses whenever we find God in a way we didn’t expect, doing things that we didn’t expect to happen. I was first able to hear this unfathomable rhythm only after a week of singing the Magnificat. The implication of the words becomes quieter, but much more pronounced, when this is a daily routine; you begin to notice things you didn’t see before when Mary’s words continuously swirl in your head. I genuinely hope that everyone on our pilgrimage will pick up on this rhythm, and follow its beat for the rest of our lives. Once you’ve heard it, you begin to hear it everywhere.

                  A few more thoughts – it’s easy to look at this trip as a pleasure-tour, seeing the sights and singing in an exotic space. This tour will be great fun, and we will be sight-seeing. But at the same time, during our residency, WE will be the Cathedral choir. We will be the mouth of the church, proclaiming God’s earth-shaking message through Mary’s words. Maybe the church will be filled, and maybe we’ll be singing for a dozen souls. Either way, God will be with us, using our voices to feed others and ourselves – we can expect that God will work in ways we don’t expect. 

- Erik Meyer, Music Director

St. Martin's Chancel Choir sings Evensong monthly, on the first Sunday of the month, from October to June. The music sung at the spring Evensongs is being prepared for the Choir's Pilgrimage in July in honor of St. Martin's 125th anniversary. 

The final two Evesongs of the season will be held at 5:00 p.m. on May 4 and June 1. On May 4, join us immediately following the Evensong for a Silent Auction fundraiser in support of the trip. More information and a list of items may be found here. On June 1st join us to wish the choir well as we commission them for their journey. The pilgrimage will take place July 19-28, 2014.

Getting Clear

During college I spent one summer digging a hole in a Galilean hillside. Our archaeological team scraped and sifted the dirt inch by inch until the trench reached three meters deep. I remember sitting in the cool, earthy shade at the bottom of the pit and marveling at the clearly defined layers of earth exposed in the wall across from me. Over 2,000 years of history were revealed in layers of dirt accumulating three meters deep over time.  

Our souls and our common life in a community are formed by accumulation over time. Different influences create layers and patterns in our psyche. We accumulate values, beliefs, patterns of thinking, habits, reflexes, assumptions, anxieties, fears, pockets of resilience and buoyancy, guilt, shame, scars and wounds. Sometimes we feel very coherent and clear in relationship with what makes up our soul and sometimes we feel chaotic, confused and unclear. At times we feel like a clear flowing stream and at other times like a puddle of mud. 

Lent is a time to seek clarity, integration, and coherence in our inner life and our community life. God’s mercy and love give us the gentle light we need to look at ourselves with compassion and sort through the layers in search of new integrity. Spiritual practices help us exchange unconscious reaction and reflex for conscious virtue and healthy, life-giving habits. We learn the joy of leaving behind our shadows and emerging with our best selves into the delight of God.

We will teach tools for clarity this Lent during Sunday Forum Hour. Please join us for three sessions I will teach on Values Clarification. We will seek clarity for our individual values and for the values of the St. Martin's community as a whole. Our 125^th Year is a good time to look at our corporate life in the light of God’s mercy and love, celebrating the gifts, confessing our faults and lifting up the values and virtues that will guide our life in Christ together.   

Rethinking Communion

For as long as I have seriously thought about Holy Communion, I have thought about it as a mostly personal portion of the service. The time leading up to Communion is probably the point in church when my focus is most drawn within myself. I spend that time reevaluating my relationship with God, recognizing how more often than not I have fallen short in many ways, and remembering that through Christ and his loving sacrifice on the cross I am offered forgiveness, hope, and a way to do better. Then, as I partake of Communion, I marvel at so much love, grace, and mercy being offered by someone so holy to someone as unholy as me.

That was the sum of my thoughts during Communion until two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, I went away to the Franciscan Spiritual Center for three days to dialogue with a small group of Christians from various theological and geographical places about sexual diversity in the church. After hours of sharing stories, thoughts, laughter, and tears with each other, we ended our last session with Communion.

As our facilitator held the bread and the cup to pass around our seated circle, she explained that before we passed the elements to the next person we were to say a blessing we wished for them to receive when they returned to everyday life. That one unfamiliar act she asked of us—to bless each other as we passed the body and blood of Christ—opened my eyes to a side of Communion I had never seen. Suddenly, Communion wasn’t simply about my relationship with God, it was also about my relationships within the body of Christ. Communion wasn’t simply a moment to consider how I could better reflect Christ, it was also a moment to consider how I had seen Christ reflected in the people around me.

As each person provided an intimate, unique blessing over their neighbor, I felt a sense of deep connection like I had never experienced during Communion. Here were thirteen people from different theological stances and approaches putting those differences temporarily aside in order to love each other, to love God together, and to jointly reconnect to that ultimate love evidenced by Christ on the cross. Here were thirteen people recognizing God at work in the people around them and praying that God would continue to pour into them and fill their needs. Here were thirteen people truly reflecting the body of Christ.

For the first time in my life, taking Communion was both deeply personal and deeply communal, and the more I think about it, the more I feel that is how Communion was meant to be. Personal, communal, and utterly sacred.

- Angelique Gravely