Giving Thanks

I was given a lovely gift this past month: the opportunity to assist distributing the elements at Eucharist.

Having served as a student pastor (and as a pastor’s wife—an unofficial but clearly-defined position in many churches), I’ve had many opportunities to assist at Eucharist before. This time seemed especially precious.

“The body of Christ, given for you.” This is the traditional formula that the pastor or the communion server says as she offers the bread. In many churches I’ve attended, the pastor will add the name of the recipient, if she knows it. “The body of Christ, given for you, Sarah.” That moment encapsulates the cosmic and personal scope of salvation: Christ’s death was for the whole human race, for the restoration of God’s creation, and yet it was for me, Sarah. God’s grace is offered to humanity, it sustains the cosmos, it can be found in every corner of creation, no matter how apparently bereft of God’s presence. And yet it is especially offered there, in that tiny piece of store-bought white bread, on that very Sunday morning, in a church in Winfield, Kansas.

Most of the congregants of my church are still unknown to me by name. I couldn’t offer that gift along with the bread that morning—the gift of being reminded that God always calls us by name.

But some of my fellow worshipers offered me a little gift that morning. When I tore off the bread and placed it in their hands with the traditional “The body of Christ, given for you,” some of them responded to me with a very untraditional, whispered, slightly embarrassed, “Thank you.” Sometimes, it preceded the more traditional response (“Amen”); most of the time, the congregant knew he should say something, and “thank you” was what came out.

Part of me was amused—what Northerner would ever say such a thing? (We Yankees are splendidly, willfully ignorant of the common courtesies.) And only a congregation that didn’t do Eucharist very often would fail to have learned the basic steps to the dance, right?

But most of me was touched. How often are those who offer ministry—whether professional or volunteer, systematic or ad hoc, well-trained or last-minute-substitute—thanked for the small services they offer?

It was silly to thank me, of course. I wasn’t doing anything. I didn’t organize the worship service or plan the liturgy or decorate the altar. It wasn’t my table or even my bread, and it certainly wasn’t me doling out bits of God according to my standards.

But I was enjoying my minuscule part in the celebration of God’s abundant grace. I love Holy Communion, more than any other part of our common worship. It gave me great joy to be the hands through which Christ’s body was distributed that morning. And it was a genuine pleasure for me that morning to receive those small expressions of slightly awkward courtesy in return.

Has that ever happened to you? Has a small act of courtesy ever made your ministry more enjoyable?

Is there someone who ministers to you that might appreciate hearing words of thanks?