When I was very young, being reared in another denomination, my mother and I, for reasons I cannot remember, were at church together without the rest of the family. In my memory it was evening; also for reasons I cannot remember. What I do recall is that my mother had a very traumatic experience at that service of Holy Eucharist.

We were seated in back instead of in our customary pew halfway up on the left side of the sanctuary and so were among the last to receive communion. We followed the instructions of the ushers and began to solemnly walk up the aisle, hands folded in prayer. When we finally got to the communion rail we knelt and waited for the priest to come and put the host, the bread, on our tongues. This was, as I said, quite some time ago. I received first by virtue of the priest traveling from our right to our left. My mother was next and that's when it happened. The priest missed her tongue. Or maybe she closed her mouth too soon. We'll never know. But the host missed her and the paten that the server had dutifully held underneath her chin, and landed on the floor. All manner of things began to happen at once. The priest called for a purificator and stopped everything to take care lest a single molecule of the bread remained to be trampled underfoot. My mom and I didn't know what to do so we just went back to our pew and knelt down. That's when I saw that she was crying. Weeping actually. Sobbing like I had never seen before. I tried to help but she refused to be consoled.

The priest, after his cleaning duties were complete and he had finished communing the rest of the congregation, came back to my mother and offered her communion. She did not look him in the eye but bowed her head and quietly said "No." He tried to convince her that it was all right, and she should not neglect this opportunity to take Holy Communion but she shook her head again, sniffed, turned her head to blow her nose and never looked back at him. I shrugged my shoulders, the priest shrugged back, and he left.

After church and while we were on our way home I asked her why she didn't take communion when it was later offered. She replied that she had desecrated the sacrament and was thus unworthy to receive it until she could go to confession. I suppose that the next Saturday afternoon when we all dutifully filed into that darkened sanctuary to confess our sins, she confessed her "sin" of desecration. I hope the priest set her straight but I never asked and she never offered to tell me, afraid perhaps, that revealing something said in confession might also result in a sin.

I don't share this story lightly and I hope that I have not told it in such a way that you think I'm making fun of my mother or the practice of communion in this church. I share it to give an example about how seriously some people take the sacrament of Holy Eucharist. And, though not quite to the same degree, I include myself in this group.

If you have been following some of the discussions about communion in our denomination you have no doubt read about the arguments regarding what has become known as "open table." That is, should the Lord's Supper be open to anyone and everyone who presents their outstretched hand to the priest regardless of whether or not they have been baptized. There are thoughtful people on both sides of this discussion and I'll share with you where I stand before I'm finished.

The official stance in the Episcopal church as stated in the canons is that communion is open to all baptized Christians regardless of where they were baptized. (As long as the Trinitarian formula was used: I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.) It is stated this way in our canons (specifically Canon 1.17.7) "No unbaptized person shall be eligible to receive Holy Communion in this church."

So most of the time you will hear the invitation given something like this: "All baptized Christians are welcome to receive communion at this table." Then a word or two of instructions are given before the service continues. On the surface this sounds very open and inclusive.

I have, however, adopted a slightly different wording, but with a significantly different meaning. I say, "All are welcome to receive communion at this table." I came to this understanding and practice this way. Early on in the planting of this church I was still so naïve to think that everyone and their brother were baptized. In the rural congregations in which I had previously served, this was the case. Even crusty, old curmudgeons who only showed up on Christmas and Easter had, in the far distant past, received the sacrament of Baptism. And as yet, a decade and a half ago, I had not heard of this period in history being called the post-Christian era. So I merrily went on my way until one day when a man about my own age came up to me after church one Sunday when we had celebrated a baptism and asked if he too could be baptized. I was shocked. I shouldn't have been, but I was. I composed myself and asked him what brought him to this place in his life and he said that ever since he came here and received communion Sunday after Sunday that a desire to dedicate his life to God had grown and that the best way he knew how was to make his baptismal promises and be baptized.

That, and many other instances like it, is why I choose to welcome all to the table and not make any exceptions. I am not a great theologian. I cannot wax eloquent about the theological rightness or wrongness of my practice. I can only tell you that I do what my heart tells me is right to do.

So what about children? Traditions vary but I like what I heard an old priest say once. (Now I say "old" but he was probably younger than I am now!) He said that it was his wish that every child would have a memory of always being welcomed at the Lord's table. I mentioned this to my mother one day. Her response was that a child would not understand what was going on. I agreed that this was likely to be the case. Then I asked my mom to explain what was going on in the bread and in the wine and she was stymied. Which brings up the question, do I need to intellectually understand what is happening to the bread and wine in the Eucharist in order for the sacrament to be valid or effective? If that were the case we wouldn't baptize babies or anoint a comatose patient since they would not be aware of what was happening. Again, people can differ on this, but I think God is able to work wonders in our souls whether or not we're aware of it, and whether or not our intellectual understanding is correct or not.

Let me be clear; I respect our parents who have chosen to bring their children forward for a blessing instead of taking the bread and the wine. I get it. I suspect that in doing so their child will be apt to ask questions about what's going on and will be able to express, in time, what his/her desire is regarding Holy Communion.

Whatever your intellectual, emotional, theological, or spiritual experiences with Holy Communion, may this sacrament continue to be for you a holy, life-giving, mysterious magnet drawing you ever closer to the love of God who sent his son that we might never be hungry nor thirsty, this day, tomorrow, and forever and ever. Amen.