As a child, I regarded communion with trepidation. Though we marked it on the first Sunday of every month, seeing the silver plates stacked on the table at the front of the sanctuary always surprised and unnerved me. Our church had no confirmation process, so the timing of one’s first communion was left to the discretion of one’s parents. I hated having nothing to do while, in the silence following Pastor George’s solemn recitation of Christ’s words from the Last Supper, I could hear everyone in the room chewing, swallowing, and gulping down their oyster crackers and grape juice in one loud
...more
