Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

When she walked down the aisle, I caught my breath.

We had prayed for this moment, hoped for it. But we weren’t sure if we would ever witness it.

This was forty years in the making. Forty years since she lost a child, an infant whose name she can still only whisper and not without unbidden tears. Forty years since a priest, instead of listening and consoling, criticized and belittled. Forty years since she had taken communion, the rift a chasm her heart couldn’t cross.

For the past three years, on her visit to this country, we have shared meals and attempted conversation. My college German is rusty, and my husband’s is non-existent (except for Gesundheit and schnitzel). Her English is minimal. There are lots of gestures and smiles, yet somehow we have communicated.

On her last Sunday before flying home, she rose during the invitation to Holy Eucharist. When she knelt at the altar and held out her hands, she offered forgiveness to a Church that had deeply wounded her. She accepted a Church that for its divine center is still full of flawed and faulty humans. She bridged her heartache with hope as the priest placed the wafer. 

The Body of Christ. 

For me, rising from the pew to partake in Holy Eucharist is not an act of courage. Not a moment in time, dividing the past from the future. For me, it is Sunday and time for communion. 

But for this woman, our friend, the act was momentous. I couldn’t see whether her knees were wobbly or her hands shook. I couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart or the long and oft-repeated refrain of not-worthy-enough, the devil on the shoulder reminding her of the painful words ill-spoken on behalf of the Church four decades earlier. I couldn’t fathom the steel it took for her to come to the altar and bring the cup to her lips. 

The Blood of Christ. 

In that moment, she was transfigured, and so were we. God works in mysterious ways, and perhaps one of the most important is through us, so that relationship can lead to reconciliation and hearts can find their way back home.