Last week I attended the monthly senior citizen luncheon at the Baptist church where I am a member. The pastor announced that next month that we would be doing something different—playing BINGO.
I leaned over and told one of the gentlemen sitting at the table with me, “We’re turning Catholic! Next thing you know we’ll be using real wine at the Lord’s Supper.”
I beg the pardon of anyone who might find offense in a denominational joke. I once terribly upset a Methodist acquaintance by telling a joke about Methodism. Just to show that I believe in equal opportunity, I’ll share with you a Baptist joke once told by the Rev. Grady Nutt on Hee Haw.
It seems there was a Quaker who owned a store. Quakers are known for their nonviolent natures, and two rogues determined to rob the Quaker’s store, even though the Quaker lived in the upstairs apartment. The rogues broke in noisily and were met by the Quaker storekeeper coming down the stairs with a shotgun in his arms. He pointed it at the rogues and said, “Friends, I am a Quaker, and wouldst not harm thee. However, thou standest in the place I am about to shoot!”
According to my mother, real wine was once used in the observance of the Lord’s Supper at First Baptist of Maynardville, back in the days when it was Maynardville Baptist. She said she was expecting the usual “fruit of the vine” (grape juice), so she just turned it up and swigged it down. She said it burnt all the way down!
I remember growing up in the First Baptist Church at Maynardville. One of the things that fascinated me most was the observance of the Lord’s Supper. I loved the way the sunlight beamed through the amber stained glass windows as the deacons folded the cloth that covered the silver vessels that held the “elements of the host” and the orderly way they distributed them to the congregation. Even now a quarter of a century later, I still find myself fascinated by the ceremony surrounding this most holy ordinance. Prejudiced I might be, but this sacred service touches my heart most when I partake at the church of my youth.
I remember well the now departed deacons who served the Lord’s table in my childhood, particularly Willard Carr and L. D. Monroe. I especially remember former Union County Superintendent of Schools and Attorney J. Howard Collette. Brother Howard was always respectful, saying “Thank you, Brother Pastor” when he was served. I remember the first Lord’s Supper after Howard Collette passed away. Preacher Joe McCoy said tearfully, “There’s an empty spot at the table today, children.”
The frequency of the observance varies from denomination to denomination—some partake at every service, but the Baptist churches I have attended observe only a few times each year. Within Baptist churches, the order of the observance varies from church to church. I remember once attending a church where the bread and fruit were passed to the congregation, and all the pastor said before the congregation partook was, “Remember what this stands for.”
If anyone was present who had not previously attended such a service, s/he would not have known what it stood for. Throughout my years of attending the Lord’s Supper services at the First Baptist, the meaning was preached prior to every observance, and it was made clear that the right to participate was reserved only for those who had been saved from their sins by Christ.
Everywhere I’ve been fortunate enough to observe this sacrament, there has been change over the years. When I was a child, the grape juice was served in actual glass communion vessels. It would be such a thrill to once more hear all those little glasses “tinkle” as they are placed in their proper place in the hymnal racks after use.
I remember once being a visitor at Glen Oaks Baptist Church in Knoxville when Bill Romines was pastor. He invited anyone who was partaking for the first time to keep the communion glass as a memento of the occasion.
One of the things I had always wanted was a communion table with the words carved across the front “THIS DO IN REMEMBRANCE OF ME”. I didn’t want just any communion table—I wanted one that had been used in actual observance of the Lord’s Supper in a bona fide Baptist church. After many years of waiting, I was able to obtain such a table.
In a sermon when he was well into his 80s, Pastor Oliver Wolfenbarger was making the point that God will not lead anyone into anything that He can’t lead through. To illustrate, he crawled through the very communion table I now own to the delight and amazement of the congregation. I’m not sure I could meander through that table in my 50s as easily as he did!
I have never attended a communion service which was conducted with disrespect; however, there have been a few light moments. I remember once at First Baptist when I was young that a very young child got hold of his mother’s bread or “wine.” I never knew exactly what the child did, but there was a peal of irreverent laughter from the mother and those surrounding.
I remember another time at First Baptist when I was sitting with Rick Shoffner. The entire service went off “without a hitch”—very respectful, very formal. After the pastor had read the Scripture just before we drank “the juice,” Rick threw back his head, drained his vessel, and said quite loudly, “Ahhhhh! Just enough to make you want more!”
Once at Loveland Baptist, no one remembered to purchase the communion wafers. This was not discovered until a short time before the service was to begin at 6 p.m. It was Sunday, and Lifeway (formerly the Baptist Book Store) was closed. The head deacon went to the grocery store to purchase something to be used for bread. That communion was observed with crunchy, garlic croutons! A teenager sitting next to me leaned over and said, “They’re gonna’ make a lot of noise!”
I could barely control my laughter enough to partake.
There may not have been a “tinkle” of glass against wood at that service, but I could have sworn that Cap’n Crunch® was present in the house!
For many years now in all churches I have attended the little communion glasses have been replaced with disposable plastic. This was to the joy of whosoever was charged with washing the little glasses, I’m sure, but there just was not the same effect when the plastic was placed in the hymnal racks. Plastic does not “tinkle.”
Nevertheless, I began collecting the little plastic glasses from which I partook.
Nonetheless, at one of our visits to KARM my wife found a set of communion trays that contained several glass cups. Of course I purchased them to display on my communion table. At that point I began to collect the plastic cups from my communion experiences.
And then COVID came. Now not only is the “wine” served in plastic, the containers are now much like those containing coffee creamer in restaurants. (I hope it wouldn’t be irreverent to refer to “fast food” for communion!)
There are two tabs—the top for the “bread” and the other for the “wine”. Now at First Baptist, instead of the deacons serving the “bread” and the “wine” separately, both are served simultaneously, thereby limiting both the length of the service and the amount of organ accompaniment.
When I was a very young child, the Lord’s Supper was just something attached to the end of a regular Sunday morning service, an addition that made the services seemingly unbearably long! As I grew older at First Baptist, I became fascinated by the ritualism of the ceremony and K. David Myers’ accompanying organ music.
I learned over the years the significance of the practice—a most holy sacrament reserved for the participation of only those who claimed saving knowledge through the Lord Jesus Christ, a remembrance to show the Lord’s death till he returns to earth again.
The pastor of my youth, William L. Mitchell, was very formal. He ensured that the church understood the importance of respecting the Lord’s Supper. Preacher Mitchell always quoted the same exact Scriptures before consumption of the “bread” and “wine,” and I found the sameness comforting. Even though every pastor conducts the Lord’s Supper in a manner befitting himself, I still hear my childhood pastor’s voice and recall those comforting verses.
In his final years Preacher Mitchell pastored Greenway Baptist Church in Knoxville. I had the opportunity a few years ago on my birthday to again attend one final communion service officiated by him and again hear those beautiful verses in his comforting voice.
Preacher Mitchell left First Baptist in my early college years, and succeeding pastors carried out the Lord’s Supper with the same reverence as had Preacher Mitchell. I remember that Pastor Joe McCoy brought the practice of having the deacons’ wives bake the unleavened bread used for the ceremony from a recipe he provided.
It has been a pleasure to meet with you once again in writing, Dear Reader. As usual, I leave you with a few tidbits from my email world.
Did you ever notice that it's a lot easier to get up at 6 a.m. to play golf
than at 10 a.m. to go to church?
Work like you don’t need the money.
Love like you’ve never been hurt.
Dance like nobody’s watching.
Sing like nobody’s listening.
Live like it’s Heaven on Earth.
In our grandparents’ time:
Lives were governed by the Bible, good judgment, and common sense.
Children were taught to know the difference between right and wrong and to stand up and take responsibility for their actions.
MAY GOD BLESS AMERICA,
and
MAY AMERICA BLESS GOD!!
Protons have mass?
I didn't even know they were Catholic.