Earlier today Anna and I went to the church on the hill. It was mid week, mid morning, a communion service going on in a side chapel. The main church was empty – I had only seen it when there was a full blown service, when my son as an adult chose to be baptised there, then when we went to a Christmas service.
We approached the chapel. Anna was in her wheelchair, which she is accepting, in the journey from the car parked outside. There were two stone steps. But the vicar interrupted the service to come and help me with the chair up the steps.
The communion service had reached the point where intercessionary prayers were welcomed. A voice spoke of someone very ill. The vicar spoke of a murderer in prison. (I thought, possibly the youngest person in our minds?)
There were perhaps a dozen people there. They were old, they were frail, one woman was blind.
The service continued with what were for me half-remembered prayers, to do with sin and forgiveness. I thought, why do the lame without blame have to beat themselves up of a quiet morning, while the rest of the world is committing mayhem outside?
Anna was very calm, she seemed to be asleep. We got to the eucharist – there was room for the whole congregation bar us to sit at the alter rail to take the bread and wine. The vicar came to us. I knew – because Anna in times before had always wanted to participate – that she could do this. But she looked bemused, not knowing. I took the bread from the priest – can I do that? - and put it to her mouth. She looked puzzled. But I am used to feeding her, and at the second try she opened her teeth. And then the priest offered the wine and she took a swig, much as she might accept a drink of juice at home. He looked at me – I shook my head – baptised and confirmed, as I was, I retain such respect for this ritual that I cannot do it without accepting its meaning.
But I was full of unanswered questions about the meaning for Anna.
And so the service came to its end., As people shuffled out – I mean shuffled - they were friendly, several people touched Anna – an old man stopped to talk and asked if we would come again.
With the vicar’s help, we backed down the steps again.
We went and had biscuits and coffee in the church café. Administering these was remarkably like administering the bread and wine in the service.
The vicar will find a ramp. We will go back next week.