The Offering

           As the 4 year-old pastor’s son in a church with an average age of about 65, sometimes you’re presented with unique opportunities.  One of these for my little boy, Elijah, is experiencing the last half of the service most Sundays sitting by himself.  By that point his little brother, Jonah, and his Mamma have generally retired to the nursery.  He does an outstanding job of keeping himself occupied with books, coloring, or a Kindle. 

The tradition of our congregation is to celebrate the Lord’s Supper on the first Sunday of every month.  Due to the typical size of the group, those gathered are encouraged to fill in the first few pews in preparation for communion.  This enhances the communal feeling of this part of the service, and gives the deacons who aid in distributing the elements a shorter distance to cover.  With this rearranging of the congregation, usually Elijah is in what has become the very back of the congregation by 2 or 3 pews. 

One of the things that has been important for me as their pastor is to attempt to enhance the understanding of our gathering at the Table to remember – and also encounter – the Risen Christ.  Although I have close friends whom I respect deeply who hold a different approach, our Table is open to any who would like to receive.  It seems to me that Jesus’ practice was to offer hospitality to all and that Jesus’ sacrifice was for all.  That being said, I err on the side of welcoming in my understanding of the Table.  The deacons and I have talked about what this might mean in relation to children who may attend on a Communion Sunday.  Our conclusion has been to leave it to the parent(s) seated with the children as to whether they will receive the elements or not.  As no one is usually with Elijah, and he is typically focusing on something else, it’s never been an issue.  Until today…

During the administering of the elements, I am at the front of the sanctuary.  Today Elijah glanced up and made eye contact with the lady who was distributing the bread on the side on which my little boy was sitting.  I could see the whole thing play out.  He made no overt request, but his eyes communicated desire.  The deacon glanced back at me, non-verbally asking for permission.  It is a most unique family who would prohibit the smallest among them from receiving food from the table at the family meal, so I offered a discreet (at least that’s what I intended) nod of approval.  She lowered the plate and Elijah took the small cracker.  He did the same with the juice when the same deacon offered the disposable cup.  This was a neat moment as both pastor and Daddy to see my little boy receive communion.  Did he understand its significance?  Obviously not.  I would rather he sense his inclusion among the Body of Christ, and maybe begin to understand Jesus’ love for him in small ways, than insist he wait until he attains some level of comprehension.  The argument could be made that if I was required to have a full understanding of Christ’s love for me before partaking of communion, I’d still be watching the bread and cup pass by!

Following the taking of the Lord’s Supper, the practice of my congregation is to collect an offering.  I’ve always been taken by the order: we receive and then immediately give.  This offering is the second one taken in the service and the monies collected for the Friendliness Fund, as it is called, are distributed by the deacons to those within in the church and community who have a need.  The same lady who had given Elijah the cracker and juice walked on that side of the church with an offering plate.  My mind began racing when I noticed she was approaching Elijah and extending the plate.  I knew he had no money with him.  What would he be adding to the collection?  I saw her lips extend into a wide smile as his little hand deposited his small, empty communion cup into the offering plate.  The deacon was so taken by this act of generosity that she whispered to me as she brought the collected funds back to the front, “That is the sweetest thing I have ever seen in church!”

I’ve been thinking about these events today and decided I would ask Elijah about his experience at church when I was putting him to bed.  We discussed how the bread and the juice help us to remember God’s great love for us.  This occurred only after I reassured a concerned four-year-old that he may have unknowingly ingested actual blood while drinking what he thought was grape juice!  I asked him where he put his cup after drinking the juice and he explained he’d placed it in the brown holder in front of him.  As most churches do, mine has slots meant to hold empty communion cups in each pew.  I asked if it stayed there.  He answered, “No.  The lady came back with the big plate and I saw other people putting money in.  Well, I didn’t have any money, but I did have the special cup, so I wanted to give that back to God.”

As I tried to choke back tears quickly forming as a result of a deeply-touched heart, I complimented Elijah on his generosity.  We who think we know so much about the “right” way to do things in church, may want to allow a little boy to give back his disposable communion cup sometimes.  I can’t substantiate it, but I have a feeling that Jesus may have called attention to a little child who is learning that when one receives, the natural response should be to give.  As I prepare to end my day, I’m praying I wake up tomorrow just a little bit more like my little boy.