Intersection, Third Day of Christmas, 2015
I left the nursing home just in time to make it back to Intersection, feeling a little abashed at having had my fill of football without Jesus. I came out of the subway shed with a little bit of time on my hands and bought a cup of coffee. I brought it with me into the sanctuary as I must have done at least a dozen times over the course of the year.
I picked the darkest corner of the children's section and there with my cat burglar clothes I sat taking occasional sips of coffee while the musicians tuned up. It was just Paul and John. At one point, Kathleen strode down the center aisle to meet her husband. The music stopped after that and John walked her back up until I could no longer see them behind one of the columns. But, I could hear a crystal edged smooch that seemed to travel at the speed of light in my direction nearly a hundred feet away. The acoustics in that room are very strange.
Then, I noticed The Rector. She seemed in uncharacteristically high dudgeon over something. There was only poor Charlotte to lend her a helping hand and she apparently didn't have that much to lend. At one point, I heard The Rector say, "and I refuse to eat that!"
It took no time at all to realize that she was referring to The Host.
Regardless of whether this is true or not, I have now spent enough time on Altar Guild to weave together a perfectly credible narrative for what had happened: Someone had forgotten to take the communion bread (referred to as The Host) out of the freezer in time for evening service. Without at least several hours to defrost, it is as solid as a rock. It is made of unleavened whole wheat and has lately been home-baked by volunteers. Huggy Bear took over the tradition last summer with his own recipe which by common assent was tasty and with just a touch of honey.
My understanding is that Tiger has taken over and his bread is very similar but is about twice the thickness. My observation is that his batter is overflowing the mold, making for a Host that looks for all appearances as if it is made of two rather large ginger bread cookies that have been frozen together. Once thawed out it can be crumpled into any number of inspired pieces, but I can fully understand The Rector's chagrin beforehand.
She disappeared for about five minutes, passing pretty close to me on her way to Parish Hall. When she came back she was carrying something between her two hands, wrapped between paper towels. Was it The Host? And, what had she done to it? Nuked it in a microwave?
I did not stay to find out. I know when Dark Forces are afoot.
I picked the darkest corner of the children's section and there with my cat burglar clothes I sat taking occasional sips of coffee while the musicians tuned up. It was just Paul and John. At one point, Kathleen strode down the center aisle to meet her husband. The music stopped after that and John walked her back up until I could no longer see them behind one of the columns. But, I could hear a crystal edged smooch that seemed to travel at the speed of light in my direction nearly a hundred feet away. The acoustics in that room are very strange.
Then, I noticed The Rector. She seemed in uncharacteristically high dudgeon over something. There was only poor Charlotte to lend her a helping hand and she apparently didn't have that much to lend. At one point, I heard The Rector say, "and I refuse to eat that!"
It took no time at all to realize that she was referring to The Host.
Regardless of whether this is true or not, I have now spent enough time on Altar Guild to weave together a perfectly credible narrative for what had happened: Someone had forgotten to take the communion bread (referred to as The Host) out of the freezer in time for evening service. Without at least several hours to defrost, it is as solid as a rock. It is made of unleavened whole wheat and has lately been home-baked by volunteers. Huggy Bear took over the tradition last summer with his own recipe which by common assent was tasty and with just a touch of honey.
My understanding is that Tiger has taken over and his bread is very similar but is about twice the thickness. My observation is that his batter is overflowing the mold, making for a Host that looks for all appearances as if it is made of two rather large ginger bread cookies that have been frozen together. Once thawed out it can be crumpled into any number of inspired pieces, but I can fully understand The Rector's chagrin beforehand.
She disappeared for about five minutes, passing pretty close to me on her way to Parish Hall. When she came back she was carrying something between her two hands, wrapped between paper towels. Was it The Host? And, what had she done to it? Nuked it in a microwave?
I did not stay to find out. I know when Dark Forces are afoot.