I dare you....

Well used.

I was given this chalice and paten (cup and plate for communion) when I was reappointed from my first church eight years ago.  It was hand made by a pastor/potter from another church.  The irony is that this now broken set came to me broken.  It had separated in the kiln and the potter mended it.  She offered to make me a new one but I wanted this one, while it may have been imperfect there was something in the imperfection that appealed to me.  And after all isn't part of communion the recognition of all that was broken in order to be whole again?

     Today's scripture from John 12 is about Mary washing the feet of Jesus with expensive oil, she is accused of wasting it by Judas.  Some might accuse me of not being careful with this cup and plate as I used it to bring communion to people outside of the church building, this is obviously not a travel set, but it was my most loved set and there was something about sharing this with those who could not travel to church.

     And so its broken fate was inevitable, I always knew it, I just didn't know when it would happen.  The moment was like one I have had many times, walking down the sidewalk, a basket in my hand containing the cup, the plate, some flat bread, and on this day some paper hearts.  I heard the items break before I knew what happened.  I looked down and there it was; I wonder if anyone saw me gently picking up all the pieces.  It was not a quick retrieval as I reflected on my foolishness, and at the reality of just how fragile the set was; when it was in pieces it seemed so light.  The truth was that it was surprising it had made it this far at all. 

     When my grandmother downsized her home to move in with my parents my sister and I helped her pack and took to our own homes some items that meant something to us.  A red ceramic pitcher was one of my items.  I brought it to our home with 3 children between the ages of 6 and 3 years.  The pitcher immediately went on a shelf.  One morning I went to serve breakfast and the safe PLASTIC pitcher, for juice was already in use for something else.  I looked around and there was the red pitcher, sitting on the shelf "use me I dare you"! 

     I made the juice in the pitcher, cautiously stirring with a wooden spoon, I set in on the table and three sets of eyes looked at me "really?"  It was like a celebration, a beautiful breakfast, Granny (yes we called her Granny) was at the table.  We used that pitcher for years, and like my communion set, we forgot how fragile it was.  One evening while at church, our daughter called and said...”Mom it's broken, Granny's pitcher, it was an accident, we are sorry...we..."  I stopped her fumbling words and told her it was ok...really it was pretty amazing it had made it this far at all. 

      Bill and I made our way home; we stayed in the car for a minute as I had a moment thinking of my grandmother.  We entered the kitchen and those three sets of eyes looked at me with great sympathy.  I told them that I always knew it would break, I just didn't know when.  I could have left it on the shelf where it would have remained safe, but worthless.  That for years I felt her presence, felt her love through memories stirred in me every time I used the pitcher and I wouldn't change that for anything.

     The oil, the cup and plate, the red pitcher, these were simply vessels, vessels that were meant to be used.  We are vessels as well, made perfect in our imperfections, more fragile than we know at times, strengthened by the wonder of this fragility and the fact that we have made it this far at all.  God dares us to be used .