Cappuccino, latte or americano?
That was not a dilemma which faced us on Tuesday morning.
We were drinking an anonymous, murky, brew in the modern café area at the back of our parish church. We had gone for the midweek service of Holy Communion and stayed to chat with some of the other parishioners. While the coffee itself was less than memorable, we were able, as we drank, to gaze up at the stained-glass windows and the altar before them. We could ponder the mysteries of the bread and wine we had just taken, and all that they symbolise.
That morning we had been doing what worshippers had been doing on that site for nearly a thousand years (though the present church is less than two centuries old). We were simply people trying to make sense of our lives, to live amidst the mysteries of the life in our universe, the mysteries of God.
For me some of the holy communion was not taking the bread and wine. It was talking to a young man who is seeking to fathom how God might move among all the inequalities, injustices, and absurdities of this world. This was no academic discussion. He is a serious seeker and even considering a vocation as a priest. But before he leaves his current comfortable life as a city trader, he needs to clear some of this philosophical debris from his mind.
This young man faces a life-changing decision. To continue a very comfortable life where the basic goal is simple and its outcomes measurable: making a profit. Or to face a demanding life of ministry to the needs of parishioners whose lives become increasingly complex.
After communion, we could, possibly have taken ourselves off to one of the other dozen places all within a hundred yards or so of the church where you can sit down and have much better coffee. The church which this young man is thinking about representing may rarely feature in conversations in such coffee shops, except given recent events, in a positive light.
There are young mothers, some anxious about their experiences of filling a role for which they have had precious little preparation. Older people, some, you would suspect, are widowed, getting out of their four walls and navigating the shifting currents of the ageing process. Some drink alone and may be engrossed in a book or newspaper, or just gazing at passers-by. What are they talking about? What are they thinking about? In these coffee shops, many people are also trying to make sense of their lives, there is certainly communion taking place...what would make it holy?
At least these people are sharing a space with other human beings and will not be alone. Some are no doubt grappling in their own secular ways with the sort of life mysteries which we had just confronted and celebrated in the liturgy. Who knows? Who are we to say that some of those conversations in Caffe Nero or Costa could indeed be called ‘holy communion’.
Ultimately all that is required of our young friend – of any of us who call ourselves believers – is summed up in the words of an ancient bishop who said: ‘the glory of God is man fully alive’ (Irenaeus). To grapple with the questions life presents, to be fully alive and not half anaesthetised to the pains of daily life is sometimes tough going. But maybe our best chance of being fully alive is to mix it in coffee shop and church chapel. Maybe!?
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