Holy

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of attending a workshop called Just Juice. It was hosted at my church, and using locally sourced grapes, and the strength of our own hands, we made communion juice.

As we pressed the grapes, we talked about sustainability and a return to being intimate with our food. It was especially touching to be working with grapes from Kari’s backyard.

As the grape juice boiled it its mason jars we swapped stories about our mothers canning jellies and more. We marveled at how an afternoon’s labor could turn into 23 months worth of communion juice.

And as we gathered around the grape stained table at the end of the workshop, out efforts poured out before us, a sense of holy washed over me. We went around and shared experiences with communion as a young child and of times when communion held particular meaning to us. There is something beautiful about allowing yourself to relive and share the holy moments of your life.

Passing the cup around and serving one another what, moments before, we had made together, was one of the more holy experiences of my life. For that, I am grateful.

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