Now, I’m a religious free-agent. I was raised Southern Baptist as a child,
adopted the Episcopal church as an adult because of personal and spiritual
beliefs, but currently attend the local Methodist church with my partner because of their
community-giving tenets aligning with mine.
So, by virtue of my Episcopal and Methodist leanings, I’ve taken
communion many times. And communion has
come to mean a lot to me as it is one of the most intimate and beautiful and
holy things that a congregation, that any group of people, can do together,
whether it is at a church alter or at the dinner table. I love communion. And still do, despite what happened on
Christmas Eve…
Everything started off as it normally would during communion,
the walk down the isle, the taking of our places along the prayer bench. Palms up to receive the Host, which is
smallish square pillow of a cracker. As the
body of Christ was blessed and placed in my palm, I realized that I had not
received communion since my gluten allergy diagnosis, therefore I had not
thought about the digestive consequences of ingesting a non-gluten-free Host.
Instead of all the prayers I had planned on praying, other thoughts
began racing through my mind as I placed the Host on my tongue. I had not consumed any gluten in the past two
years other than that from cross contamination. What was going to happen? It could be bad, and I could be sick for the
next three days. Surely God would
protect my digestive tract from the inevitable GI distress and the full-body rash…it
was the body of Christ, after all! I thought of faking a cough
and palming/pocketing the Host, but not remembering what level of sin that
might be, I decided it would be best to take my chances…And while I ticked
through these panicky thoughts, I accidentally swallowed the Host whole. And on Its way down my esophagus, It turned
sideways. And lodged there.
I won’t go into the uninteresting details of me trying to
work the Host down my throat as silently as possible so as to not disrupt the
service (picture large heartworm pill and dog). Nor will I go into detail about the itchy thick
feeling that quickly developed in my throat, an allergic reaction to the
gluten. And I won’t bore you with
details of the painful squeezing of my esophageal muscles as they automatically
worked the Host down on its righteous pathway to nourish my body and soul and
how Eric thought he might have to cart me out of the service before we shared
the flame of the Christ candle…
My alternate title for this post was Choking on Jesus, but I thought
that too irreverent and/or blasphemous. I have faith that with God
knowing what is in my heart, he knew that I meant no offense when I
thought and wrote
those words just now.