Give us this day our daily bread. This prayer that Jesus taught us to pray can be interpreted in many ways. Here are a few of my thoughts before I start supper and put our daily bread on the table.
     Bread can mean food: enough to eat, enough to sustain us, enough for every day, not just when we become hungry. It can mean life force: our meaning and purpose in life. It can represent the bread that Jesus gave his disciples in the evening before he died and that we receive in communion. It can mean the Christ presence in our life.
     Although there are times when I am alone saying this prayer, the words aren’t only for me. Whether alone or with others, give US rolls off my tongue. Jesus must have been thinking of community. His message isn’t just for individuals; he wants us to think collectively. I love working on my own personal salvation, but that’s not point.

     Yesterday I attended the 12:30 Communion service at St. John’s Episcopal church here in Edinburgh. The church is located at the west end of Princes Street Gardens and adjacent to the Parish of St. Cuthbert, the oldest Christian site in the city. The service was held in the Mary Chapel, with four of us in attendance. And yet, it was the most intimate of services. The rector offered many categories of prayers and left time for us to pray through our hearts.
     There is something comforting about the familiarity of the Communion service from the Book of Common Prayer, regardless of the Rite chosen for the day. Although I am not Episcopalian, I have attended Eight O’clock Eucharist often enough to allow the words into my heart. This morning these words came to me: Make in me a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me.
     After the service, as I walked through the garden, a renewed sense of the meaning of heartfelt came to me.

     Yesterday I attended 5 o’clock Mass at the Duomo. An Irish (?) priest officiated in English, and two women read the scripture and passed the offer plate. The Gospel reading was the story of Lazarus; the message was the expectation and acceptance of change.
I took communion, not because no qualifying invitation was offered, but because I wanted to take in the spirit of love. I attend a church where anyone who wants to follow Jesus’ example of love is invited to the table. That is how I always approach communion, and so it was yesterday. I need all the reminders I can muster to keep a loving heart. Communion is one way for me.
     The Roman Catholic church preaches love and following Jesus. But their invitation to communion is limited to those confirmed in the church, and who thus believe in transubstantiation, that the bread and wine actually becomes the body and blood of Christ. This dogma goes back to the councils of the fourth century when, for its very survival, the growing church was dealing with heresies. What was important then, may not be important now. When should we hold on to tradition? When is it time to let a tradition go?
Christianity and Christians have always been challenged by what to take literally in the Bible, and what to interpret metaphorically.

      What did Jesus mean when, according the Luke 22:20 he said:
“This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” ...
What did Paul mean in Corinthians 11:24: and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, “Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of Me.”
 
The Church may have its answers, but individual Christian have theirs. We come to their own understanding of what communion means so we can be loving.

    I did a rather daring thing today, daring for me. I attended Mass and took communion. If there are any Catholics reading this, please, I don’t mean to offend. In my UCC church God’s table is open to everyone who wants to follow God’s way of love. I certainly feel do, and more to the Catholic point, I am open to following Christ.
      Going up to receive the wafer took great courage on my part because the two other times I took communion in Florence I was reprimanded for not doing in right. Both times were years ago, both at Santa Maria dei Fiori (the Duomo). The first time I put out my hands to receive the wafer only to be startled with a “NO” from the priest who wanted to put it into my mouth (Perhaps he was a pre-Vatican Two priest). I’ve never had a man speak to me as sternly as this priest did. The other time I turned away before putting the wafer in my mouth and was called back by the priest. When he saw that was eating it, he let me go.
     We Protestants know (but don’t fully understand) that the Catholic Church only allows communion to its members. This makes us nervous when we privately, and yet faithfully, break this law that we haven’t bought into, and go up to receive. We also know and believe that God, who loves everyone, loves an open table. The fact that we are willing to take communion is enough for God.

If you live in the Boston area or are visiting Cambridge on a Wednesday, I suggest that you stop in and attend the Service of Holy Eucharist at 12:30* at the Society of Saint John the Evangelist. My friend and I found a parking spot (free from 9-4) right in front of the chapel on Memorial Drive. After the service, lunch at Legal Sea Foods.

     But the heart of the matter lay in praying with the brothers and other visitors like us, and in sharing communion around the altar. Thank you brothers for the hospitality.

(*It that time doesn’t fit your schedule, check out other services at www.ssje.org.)

In my www.acottagebythesea blog I’ve written (and posted many pictures) about my experiences today visiting Santa Maria dei Fiori in Florence and then the Convent and Church of St. Francis in Fiesole. At the big church, the Duomo, I participated in 7:30 Mass, following along in Italian in the bulletin that was available in the pews. At the little church in Fiesole I sat prayed and then left when the Mass began.

      For a non-Protestant, one Mass was enough for me. In fact, I doubt I’ll participate again while I’m here. No judgment. It just doesn’t resonate with me. But sitting and praying does, so very likely I’ll return to the Duomo in the early morning and slip into adjacent chapel while Mass is going on. Sitting under Brunelleschi’s Dome before the tourists enter, praying in the Protestant way—just God and me—can’t get much better.

Taking communion to church members is one of the graces that we can offer. Our members are in nursing homes, hospitals, rehab institutions, home bound, you name it. Many are elderly, with a long history of church going and a deep connection to communion.

    Today my pastor took communion to one of our elderly members who is in rehab. When I visited him later in the day, I was in awe of depth of his  appreciation and the peace that surrounded him. I need to remember that although there is something particularly compelling when the pastor arrives at the door for a visit, all of us can come with blessed bread and wine.

Yesterday I attended two church services in my town, 8 o’clock at the Episcopal Church in the chapel in the woods, and 9:30 at my UCC church just up the street from where I live. I love both services and I love participating in each on the same day.

.       At 8 o’clock we worship from the Book of Common Prayer, which of course includes the Eucharist. I love the ritual, the familiar words, and I love hearing the complete array of scripture readings, especially the Psalm appointed for the day.

      At Memorial Congregational Church each week I look forward to being welcomed ‘home’ by my pastor and to participating in the joys and concerns at prayer time.

       At both services I am filled with heartfelt music and inspiring sermons.

       I am ‘very grateful’.