Communion Sundays are my favorite. Our tradition is to have communion on the first Sunday of the month.
At the church we attend in Cooperstown, the congregation joins hands at the close of the service, forming a large circle around the sanctuary, and sings “Blessed Be the Tie That Binds.”
On the first Sunday we experienced this, attendance was sparse and we were stretched thin, reaching to touch the fingers of the next person over.
Now I know what to expect on communion Sundays. When my girls fold their arms and look at me with that I-don’t-want-to-hold-somebody’s-hand look, I try to make sure they are sandwiched between me and their dad.
Yesterday, Communion Sunday was also the second Sunday of Advent. More people were in attendance than that first time, and the circle we formed was almost a little squinched. I held my daughter’s hand, and the hand of a woman I met as we were forming the circle.
Blessed be the tie that binds…
The tie at the moment was hands. Skin on skin. Feeling the warmth of another person. Actually two other people.
Our hearts in Christian love…
It didn’t matter that I just met the woman whose hand I was holding, or had never met the woman directly across from me who was holding the baby. We were together in the body of Christ. We had broken bread together. We had dipped into the same cup.
The fellowship of kindred minds…
Kindred doesn’t mean identical. We have differences of opinion on issues of importance and on more trivial matters. Kindred is family. At the end of the day, we are family.
Is like to that above.
Communion Sundays are a little touch of heaven here on earth.
During Advent, when we anticipate Heaven coming to earth, communion is especially sweet.
To Cooperstown, With Love 