Chalice as Water Cup

Even though we're members of a suburban church, we occasionally arrive in the morning to find a homeless person who's set up camp for the night, not a camp with a tent, but a piece of cardboard for a sleeping mat on the walkway that has a deep eave above it.  We usually let them sleep, and they're usually gone by the time church is over.

Yesterday, as we prepared for communion during the service, we heard a banging knock on the side door.  One of our deacons went to answer the door, and I was not surprised to see that it was the man who had been sleeping when we arrived.  I recognized him, because we had paused from a distance to make sure he was breathing.

He sat down on the front pew, while the deacon went into the sacristy, and our pastor continued with the liturgy to ready us for communion.  The deacon returned with one of the bulkier pottery chalices and handed it to the man.  He drank.  

Before the pandemic, we had decided not to buy bottled water, and we installed a water dispenser with washable cups.  We wanted to cut down on our plastic usage as a church.  And during the pandemic, we've all brought our own water.  Yesterday reminded me of why we might want to keep some bottled water on hand.  The woman who runs the food pantry came to him with a clean t-shirt for later.  We keep a supply of those on hand for just this very reason.

We now commune with hermetically sealed elements that one person passes out to the congregation, and we did offer the man the option to commune with us.  He shook his head.  As we consumed the elements, he drank from the chalice as he held it with both hands.  I found it oddly moving.

We finished the service with prayers for a parishioner who had died but didn't want a funeral or memorial service.  I recognized her name from the prayer list; we've been praying for her for weeks.  Her family members wanted something, so we had some readings and prayers and then two family members sang "Take My Breath Away," a song I associate with some sexy scenes from Top Gun.  As they sang and the homeless man coughed into his mask, I also thought of our current disease situation.  The two young women chose the song simply because their relative had liked it.

The words from the Psalms moved me to tears, but I'm easily moved to tears these days.  After a service where I've watched a homeless man drink water from a chalice, I felt even more appreciative of the words that reminded us of a creator who cares for us, even when we're difficult to care for.