Though I am no longer working as pastor in a congregational setting, several times a month, I lead services in Presbyterian churches, filling in for colleagues who are away. Most of the time, when I enter the worship space, the communion table is covered in paraments with liturgical colors and Christian symbols.
Last Sunday, the cloths on the communion table had images of produce — corn, cherries, and berries. Though not typical, this is a lovely set of images for a communion table where gratitude is voiced and sacred meals are shared. I noticed these paraments right away.
Then when I sat in my seat, I looked to my left where there was one more table. I had not yet noticed its covering. This table holds the Bible and the candles. And its cloth — its parament — had tractors all over it.
“This is for James, ” Susan said to me as she lit the candles. (Both names changed)
James is one of the youngest children connected to the community, and he’s the child present most frequently in worship. “You can’t have these” — Susan gestured to the fruits and vegetables on the communion table — “without these.” She pointed to the tractors.
“That’s true!” I replied, while smiling.
Mostly, I was smiling because I was touched that these elders are caring intentionally and collectively for their youngest child. Many young kids are enamored with tractors, and if that’s important to James, it’s important to them. And that is because James is important to them.
Within the best visions and expressions of Church, the sense of household keeps expanding. No longer are we bound only by those most immediate to us — under our roof, close to our age, similar to our background. The belonging is larger than that, and it keeps growing all the time.
“This is for James.”
That is lovely.
Smuggling Grace 