These got me thinking, and I wrote this comment on Kristin’s FB page:
I really like the poem. Now I have the first line of a poem in my head: “To Presbyterians nothing (and everything) is sacred…” I’m thinking about our children coming up after communion and grabbing hunks of bread as we pour grape juice back into the plastic bottle. I think there is something there. We’ll see where it goes.
I realized as I was working on the poem that when children grab hunks of bread we’ve done communion by intinction, so we don’t really pour the grape juice back into the bottle (except maybe the chalice the pastor poured out). It’s when it’s in the pews and we have little cubes and plastic cups that the unused cups get poured back. I could have conflated the two in the poem, but I didn’t.
I ended up with two poems, a longer one about the children and a shorter one inspired by the day-old-bread. I think I like the second one better. At least, I’m enamored of the first two lines.
To Presbyterians nothing–and everything–is sacred;
All are welcome at the table:
–This is my body
–This is my blood
Memorial and more than memorial,
More than the baptists,
Less than the Lutherans.
I offer the loaf and the cup to my daughter:
–The bread of life
–The cup of love.
When we clean up,
She asks for bread
and children take hunks of the body of Christ
While we pour leftover juice down the sink that drains directly to the earth.
My daughter dips the bread
Into balsamic vinegar
And offers me the body of Christ.
The Leftover Cubes
Have you ever made bread pudding
From the leftover cubes of the body of Christ?
Nothing is sacred
And everything is sacred.
To share bread pudding around the table
This, too, is communion
And Jesus in our midst.