If anyone doesn’t know what intinction is, it’s when you dip the cracker representation of Jesus’ body into the grape juice representation of Jesus’ blood and then eat the drippy bread-ish cracker. It is done at church to remind people of Jesus. It’s not like at Catholic Church where the priest lays the bread into your mouth and then pours a little wine into your mouth from a communal cup; it relies a lot more on the rememberer: his skill, his basic motor functions. It’s a lot of pressure.
Yesterday, I dropped the cracker into the grape juice.
It started well. I reached into the little wooden bowl and went for the big piece like I always do but then it ended up being an illusion of a big piece and I unsteadily came up with just the tiniest bit pinched sideways between my fingers. People were behind me so I made for the juice quickly as the cracker wiggled back and forth like a guy climbing a sideways rope ladder toward a carnival prize. Right when I thought I had it, post-dip and pre-rocket toward my mouth, it slips out and sinks to an unseen depth.
I’m like “dammit” under my breath, already assuring my spot in hell but then I just make the move like everything’s all right. Empty hand up to lips and furious chewing of nothingness, feigned composure. I turn quickly and walk back to my seat staring at the floor.
I imagined the people playing pop-Christian music-to-commune-by up front looking at me to the side of their microphones, creasing their foreheads. They hold themselves back from stopping the music, exposing me to the congregants and forcing me to fish out my sacramental failure, demanding an explanation, attempting an exorcism, hitting my forehead with their open palms.
In my chair, I stare at the back of my eyelids pretending to feel the benefits of a successful communion and trying to guide my harried thoughts to a prayer. After a few minutes, I give up and settle on the hope that God’s enjoyment of representations doesn’t extend to my empty mouth.
:-) You are hilarious, Eric.
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