Tasting Grace

I love attending a liturgical church. And I love receiving the Lord's Supper every week. That meaning of that ritual sinks deeper and deeper into my soul each time I come to the table, although I still feel that I understand what exactly happens in the Eucharist so little!

Today was one of those days that I felt like I really "got it" -- that just for a brief second, I understood the power of receiving the consecrated elements. It had been one of those Sunday mornings where the cares of the world just refused to stop following me around the sanctuary, bouncing on my shoulders and poking me in the mind so that it was hard for me to enter into worship, even while leading the music. But when it came time for me to receive the bread and wine up in front with the other musicians, something quietly extraordinary happened.

It was as if during the whole service up to that point, I had been seeing and moving through a viscous liquid that held me back, but when the bread was offered to me with the words "This is the body of Christ, the bread of heaven" and the priest's eyes looking directly into mine, suddenly the air around me was pure again. "Lord, I receive you -- all that you desire to give to me, all that is mine already in Christ -- Lord, heal me, strengthen my faith, fill me, thank you." The communion bread was sweet, soft, a slightly larger morsel than usual -- today, I could literally taste the Spirit speaking, "See? I do not skimp on the gifts I give to you. Taste my grace. You do not need to plead with me for crumbs. Receive my healing." And the communion wine, offered to me by the catechist, had never tasted so wonderful to me as it did today.

Truly, truly we sang, "Taste and see, taste and see the goodness of the Lord."