Palestine and Israel: A Pastor's Reflections

The news the last couple of weeks has been littered with accounts of what is going on in the Middle East.  It appears to be the same story that has played itself out many times in recent decades – Israel feels provoked by Palestinians living in the West Bank or in Gaza and, seeking to defend itself, launches retaliatory attacks.  Unfortunately, this is neither a new nor an infrequent tale.  As a pastor, I find myself increasingly troubled by these events and wondering what my response as a follower of Jesus Christ should be.  How can I faithfully seek God's Kingdom in the midst of this conflict?

The fact of the matter is that the events in Israel and Palestine present a special problem for Christians.  There is, it seems, a greater tension within Christianity about these issues than about many others.  My belief is that much of this tension derives from assumptions we have made about the Bible, about theology, and about both the Israeli population and the Palestinian population.  At the root of these assumptions is the concept of Christian Zionism.

Popular in many conservative denominations, Christian Zionism is loosely defined as the belief that Christians in the 21^st Century have a moral and biblical obligation to support Israel in every circumstance.  Israel is seen as God’s Land and its people as God’s People.  To fail to support Israel, then, is to betray God.

Added to Christian Zionism are assumptions made by well-meaning Christians about the Palestinian people.  As one friend commented on Facebook recently, the Palestinians are “infidels” (another word for Muslim, it seems) who want to “wipe Israel off the map.”  When set in these terms, it is not difficult to arrive at the conclusion that Israel is indeed God’s chosen nation.

What if I told you, though, that those assumptions might not be correct?  Or that, at the very least, that they fail to tell the whole story?  What if I told you that, while it is true that a significant majority (somewhere between 80 and 85 percent) of Palestinians are Muslim, there are in the West Bank and Gaza somewhere around 85,000 Palestinian Christians and 500,000 Palestinian Jews?  It is not so easy to dismiss our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ as “infidels” hell bent on Israel’s destruction, is it?

More insidious than the assumptions we make about the Palestinian people is the idea put forth by Christian Zionists that Christians have no choice but to support Israel.  The remainder of this post is intended to demonstrate that, though a case might be made for supporting Israel in everything it does, the Bible does not demand such support and might even caution against such support.  We’ll begin with a look at the Bible itself.

The Nation-State of Israel and the Bible

Right off the bat, I have to be clear about one thing: the nation-state of Israel is never mentioned in the Bible.  Not once.  Never.  In any book.  In fact, the very idea of a nation-state is foreign to the Bible.  When the Bible uses terms like “nation,” it is more helpful to think in terms of the First Peoples of the Americas (i.e. the Navajo “Nation” or the Cheyenne “Nation”) than to think in terms of today’s nation-state.  The age of the idea of the nation-state is disputed by scholars, but it seems safe to say that the modern nation-state did not come into existence until at least 1400-1600 years after Christ lived, died, was resurrected, and ascended.  If you want to get more specific with the modern nation of Israel, it post-dates Jesus by more than 1900 years, having only been around since November 29, 1947. 

The Bible does not speak about the modern nation-state of Israel.  The Bible does, however, speak about the people of God.  In fact, in the book of Ezekiel, God says this: “I will take the people of Israel from the nations among which they have gone….  Then they shall be my people, and I will be their God” (Ezekiel 37:21, 23).

You might say that these are semantic differences – word games.  You might be right, but I would suggest that these semantics are far from trivial.  It is important when talking about issues like this to be clear in our terms.

The people of Israel in the Hebrew Scriptures are indeed God’s people.  But they are more than that – they are God’s covenant people.  That word covenant is so important.  If you read Deuteronomy, you will begin to understand what it means to be a covenant people.  Covenant people have obligations.  If covenant people fail to live up to their end of the covenant, then God has no obligation to them.  A cursory reading of Deuteronomy 28 makes clear the rewards and punishments associated with covenantal obedience (or lack thereof).

To sum up: to be one of God’s people, according to the Hebrew Scriptures, was to abide by the covenant.  If a person or a group of people (such as all of the Israelites) failed to do so, they no longer had the right to consider God bound by the covenant.  This is, in fact, the story of the Hebrew Scriptures – disobedience that leads to exile.  The question, then, becomes not whether the Bible refers to the modern nation-state of Israel (it doesn’t), but whether Modern Israel can be considered as the “People of God.”

Modern Israel as the “People of God”

The main question of whether or not Modern Israel can be considered the “People of God” breaks down into two sub-questions.  The first is this: are the actions of Modern Israel consistent with the obligations entailed in being God’s people?  That is, is the nation-state of Israel acting in ways that are consistent with the covenant?

Take a look at the picture below.  It depicts the change in land “ownership” over the course of the nation-state of Israel’s history.  The legend is a bit small, so I'll tell you that the green represents land controlled by Palestinians and white represents land controlled by Israel.

The second picture from the left portrays what it is supposed to look like.  According to the UN, that is how the land is supposed to be divided between the Israeli and Palestinian populations.  Clearly, though, things haven’t stayed that way.  Using a variety of provocations (some legitimate, others less-so) as excuses, Israel has systematically (and illegally) taken land from the Palestinian people.  Israel continues to do this.  It does not take much to look at that picture and find the nation-state of Israel in violation of the covenant commands to not covet, to not steal, and to not bear false witness.  Perhaps the nation-state of Israel is not acting in concert with its covenant.

It is not just land, though.  The breaking of covenant extends to the treatment of the Palestinian people in what little land that remains to them.  Bluntly, Israel is practicing apartheid against the Palestinians.  I used to think that word too extreme, but then I looked up its literal definition: “a policy or system of segregation or discrimination on grounds of race” (via Google).  That is exactly what the Israelis are doing to the Palestinians, and it is a clear violation of the covenant described by the Hebrew Scriptures and by which the "People of God" are supposed to live.

Leviticus 19:33-34 say this: “When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien.  The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you….”  If you question whether Israel’s treatment of the Palestinian people rises to the level of oppression, I invite you to consider the information at http://www.ifamericansknew.org/cur_sit/water.html in light of Google’s definition of oppression – “prolonged cruel or unjust treatment or control.” 

Israel has illegally taken land from the Palestinians and continues to oppress the Palestinians, both of which constitute violations of the covenant by which the people of Israel are named the “People of God.”  It is not wrong, therefore, to suggest that the modern nation-state of Israel has by its actions in violation of the covenant has forfeited its right to that title.

There is a second question at play here, though, one that cuts through even the illegal and oppressive actions of Israel.  Namely this: Does ethnicity have anything at all to do with being God’s people?  That is, even if Israel’s actions were in perfect concert with the covenant described in the Hebrew Scriptures, does ethnic or genetic Jewishness equate to special favor in the eyes of God?

This question is spoken to in the Gospels and by Paul.  In Matthew 3, John the Baptist is baptizing when some Pharisees come out to see him.  Listen to what he says to them:  “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”  It seems clear that John is telling them that their bloodlines, their family trees, are not enough – that being a “child of Abraham” entails far more than ethnic identity.

Paul makes the case even more strongly in Romans 9:6-8: “For not all Israelites truly belong to Israel, and not all of Abraham’s children are his true descendants….  This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as descendants.”  It cannot get any clearer than that.

Identity as the people of God no longer has anything to do with race: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).  To be one of the people of God means to worship God, to seek God’s Kingdom, and to follow Jesus Christ.  It is to recognize that God is just and to seek true justice in not just our own doings but in all the world.  Those who do these things are the “People of God,” regardless of their genetics.

When one looks again at the earlier question, “Can the modern nation-state of Israel be understood as the ‘People of God?’”, the answer does not have to be yes.  In fact, as I’ve tried to make clear, a very strong argument can be made that the answer to that question is a resounding NO!  Regardless, however, my hope is that this has at least made clear that Christian Zionism is a dangerous house of cards built on assumptions that, if not outright faulty, warrant a great deal of scrutiny.

Concluding Thoughts

This has been a ridiculously long post, to be sure, and one with a lot of information.  There are, however, some things I hope the hardy reader who has made it this far might take away from this:

•  We need to get over Christian Zionism.  Israel can and should be held as accountable by Christians for its unjust and oppressive actions as any other nation.
• There is no moral high ground on this issue.  This post centers on what Israel has done wrong, but I am not naïve enough to believe the Palestinian population entirely innocent.
•   Being pro-Palestine does not make one either an inferior Christian or an anti-Semite.
• Thoughtful Christians can disagree on causes and initiators of injustice, but we should be able to unite in prayers that justice will reign.

I close with a challenge.  Be informed!  Do not simply settle for what you see on the news – American media has historically ignored the Palestinian side of the conflict.  Take the time to read Amira Hass’ excellent book Drinking the Sea at Gaza or Muna Hamzeh’s Refugees in Our Own Land.  Both tell the story of the Palestinian people from inside the camps and settlements.  If books aren’t your things, hop on Netflix and spend a couple hours watching Five Broken Cameras or With God on Our Side.  Take a peek at www.ifamericansknew.org.

Whatever you do and however you go about it, please be informed – don’t simply repeat someone else’s thoughts or ideas.  Because when we are better informed, we will know better how to pray and how to actively seek God’s justice in Israel and Palestine.

Amen.

A Religious Experience at the Symphony

It’s no secret that I am an aficionado of violin music, particularly the music of today’s most well-known violin savant, Joshua Bell.

Last night, for my birthday, the wife took me to see Bell perform live with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields orchestra.  It was an all Beethoven program, and it was amazing.  More than amazing, it was a religious experience.

Being particularly interested in the violins, I spent most of the evening watching the violinists – especially Bell, of course – as they performed the music.  As I watched, I noticed that the different violinists appeared to take different approaches to their instruments and to the music.

For some, it was as though musician and instrument were the best of friends, the musician gently tucking her instrument under her chin and whispering to it with a quiet intensity – sitting quite still and smoothly drawing the bow across the strings as.  Musician and instrument – engaged, as it were, in a delicate conversation.  Together, these  two closest of friends created the music, music of beautiful tone and elegant beauty.  One could tell that these musicians and their instruments belonged together.

For others, though, it seemed as if the concert was a form of gladiatorial combat between musician and instrument – a musical death match.  No gentility here.  Instead, the musician grabs his instrument and wrestles it into submission, pinning it to his shoulder and raking the bow on its strings.  Concertgoers watch them exchange blows, as the musician jerks his body back one moment as if struck and forward the next as if dealing a retaliatory blow.  Yet somehow the force of the combat called forth the best from both musician and instrument, resulting in a music no less beautiful and all the more poignant for the battle that produced it.

Then there was Joshua Bell.  Bell is one of those unique individuals for whom the violin is neither friend nor foe – it is part of him.  The distinction between Bell and his Stradivarius is more than just blurred in the performance, it is removed altogether.  Instrument becomes an extension of the man’s life, and he pours his heart into it.  One might say it is like lovers, but even that does not adequately capture the intensity of the union between Bell and his instrument.

And the music!  Oh, the music.  It is almost too much to take.  Words fail in describing its beauty, its eloquence, the passion of its sound.  One watches Bell and quickly understands that making music is more than just a way to make money.  It is more than a hobby.  It is something he must do.  The music is there inside of him and one gets the impression from watching him perform that releasing that music is a catharsis, a necessary self-emptying without which he would go mad.

It struck me as I was watching that Bell was the living portrayal of something the prophet Jeremiah once said when people told him to stop preaching:

“But if I say, ‘I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones.  I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20.9)

I have always enjoyed this verse but, until last night, I have not completely understood it.  It seemed like something cute to say about being a pastor and my calling to preach.  But when I watched Bell in the throes of ecstatic revelation while playing, I recognized that he not only got this verse (even if he’s never heard it), he lives this verse every time he performs.

And as I watched and listened in silent awe last night, I felt the question arise unbidden in the deepest part of my own being – is that how I feel about my calling?  It is not music but gospel that wells up inside of me – am I so passionately desperate to get that message out, to share it with whomever might be listening that the very thought of not doing so drives me mad?

Or is gospel something I just offer up each Sunday because that’s my job and it’s a way to make money to pay the bills?

Joshua Bell is a prophet with a violin.  All of us who claim to have something to share with the world would do well to catch a performance of this modern day Jeremiah.

I'm All Talk

Okay, maybe not ALL talk...but mostly talk.  At the very least, I think anyone who knows me can agree that I talk a lot.

I realized that this week as I prepared for worship and as I began to prepare for a challenging series of lessons this summer.  I realized it even more just a few moments ago as I perused the last few entries on this blog.  I seem to have a lot to say - about what it means to follow Jesus and what the church should look like and that sort of thing.

I talk a lot.

But I don't do so much.

For example, I talk a lot about the poor and how we have a sacred responsibility and calling to care for them.  But I stop at McDonald's or the gas station several times a week to buy myself food that I don't really need.  I don't give my resources to actually do something about the poor.  Instead I buy the latest new release for my Kindle.  And I'm not just talking about money.  Instead of giving my time to advocate for the poor or get involved, I sit in my recliner and read about other people who do those things.

For a second example, I talk about being an "ally," about standing up for those in the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transexual community who are regularly abused by those both inside and outside the church.  But I don't actively do anything to stop that abuse.  I haven't even built up the courage to speak about it publicly (though that's coming soon...).

I could go on, but I think that I've made my point.  Part of it.

Because I'm not entirely talk.  I can list some things that I have done, some ways that I have been active.  I could applaud myself for those steps.  But the steps I take aren't radical.  They don't speak to a deep commitment or passion for these issues.  They speak instead of a life that is willing to give at the margins of my comfort zone.

I don't think it's entirely intentional.  Often I simply don't think about the ways that I perpetuate the very systems that cause poverty and hatred and abuse.  Other times I settle for the excuse that I don't know how to get involved on a larger level.  But that's just an excuse, a cover up for the real problem.

Which is that I'm a lazy Christian...or a cowardly Christian.  I don't know how to get involved because I choose to not know.  I could if I wanted it bad enough.

But do I?

Right now, I'm not even sure I want to skip my morning trip for caffeine before church in the morning.  I "need" that caffeine...

...so I can talk some more.

As You Were With Moses? Yippee.

I've been doing a bit of reading in the book of Joshua recently.  I love his story, the way that God worked through him to achieve great things for God's people.  I find Joshua to be one of the best examples of leadership.

I was struck by something new this week as I read through the first chapter - particularly the second part of verse 5, where God makes the following promise to Joshua:

As I was with Moses, so will I be with you; I will never leave you or forsake you.


I've read this verse before - many times.  It's a great verse - full of promise and encouragement.  It would make for a very positive, life-building sermon text.

All that said, though, I found myself this week wondering what Joshua's reaction to it might have been.  After all, Joshua had been with Moses for some time as Moses' assistant and helper.  He was there for many of the challenging times and he certainly would have known about the titanic struggle that pitted God (through Moses) against Pharaoh with the Israelites' freedom at stake.

He would have known about the mountain top and experienced the golden calf.  Moses might even have told him about God's suggestion that everything be destroyed again and started over with Moses and the subsequent prayer "discussion" between God and Moses.

In short, the picture that would have come to Joshua's mind when God promised to be with him "as God was with Moses" might not have been the peaceful, easy portrait of encouragement and companionship that we often expect.

In fact, Joshua might have thought something like, "God was with Moses and Moses went through all of that.  Now God is promising to be with me as he was with Moses.  Does that mean that I have to go through all of that?  Oh boy."

I could completely understand it if Joshua's reaction to the first part of God's promise was tempered and not wild enthusiasm.  After all, who really wants to go through the kinds of situations Moses faced?

This is why I find the second part of this promise to be so enthralling - God says, "As I was with Moses, so I will be with you" and then says, "I will never leave you or forsake you."  Now that had to have been soothing and encouraging to Joshua.  Because no matter what situations he might face - and if you read through the book of Joshua, you'll discover that he faced his fair share of challenges - God had promised to never leave or forsake him.  Ever.

So even if God called Joshua through the same hardships as Moses, it would be okay.  I have this mental image of Joshua's facial expression going from concern when hearing the first part ("As I was with Moses...) to peace when hearing the second part (I will never...).

This matters to me - and to all Christians - because I think we have been conditioned to hear promises like the one that God makes to Joshua in this verse as promises of peace and calm.  So when life's challenges arise and we are going through our own titanic struggles or facing our own temptations, our reaction often becomes, "God, where are you?  You promised that you would be with me like you were with Moses.  Why have you abandoned me?"

But when we remember just what Moses' life looked like even as God was with him, it should serve to remind us that God didn't keep Moses from hardship and his promise to Joshua (and us) is not to keep us from hardship or challenge.  God promises two things - to be with us and to never leave us.

I don't know about you, but just knowing this has helped me better deal with even the minor challenges and difficulties in my life this week.

Think about it.

Rejoice Always? (What I learned about life from a Green Bay Packers fan...)

Hanging in the sanctuary of our church is a decorative quilt that was made by one of the ladies in the congregation.  It is a beautiful quilt that has verses from Scripture stitched all over it in large, easy to read print.

As I was spending some quiet time in the sanctuary earlier this week, I noticed one particular set of verses on the quilt – 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, which say:

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Jesus Christ.”

I confess that, when I noticed those verses on Tuesday morning, it was not with a sense of joy.  In fact, I was greatly frustrated by them.  You see, there’s another member of our church that was recently diagnosed with cancer.  Other church members are going through intense financial struggles.  Every Sunday another church member informs us all of the  number of soldiers who have been killed in service of their country.  

And so it goes – on and on, more and more struggles.

As I sat there Tuesday morning, staring at that verse, the question slid unbidden into my mind:

“How on earth can I rejoice in the face of all this bad news?”

Don’t get me wrong, I recognize the wisdom of Paul’s words here.  They sound good, and I would love to practice them on a day to day basis.  But I just don’t know how to do it – and that frustrated me on Tuesday morning, and it continued to frustrate me throughout the day.

Fast forward to right around lunch time.  I stopped by a local business, where several of our church members work.  While there, I ended up having a conversation with a guy in the church who happens to be a Green Bay Packers fan.  Moreover, this guy and his wife were in Lambeau last Sunday for the Packers’ playoff loss.

As you might expect, our conversation turned to that Packers’ loss.  I asked him if he had gotten over it yet.  His response, though he couldn’t have known it at the time, would go a long way toward transforming my worldview.

He said something like this: “It was disappointing, but I would rather have watched the Packers lose while sitting in Lambeau than sitting at home on my couch.”

The power of those words didn’t hit me until later in the day.  Talk about perspective!  Talk about taking a bad circumstance and finding a way to rejoice and give thanks!

You see, I’m a Saints fan.  I was crushed by the Saints loss.  And though it shames me to admit this, if I had been in San Francisco to watch the game, I don’t think my reaction would have been so healthy.  Yet this Packers fan member of my church found reason to rejoice even as his favorite team suffered a defeat to end their season.

Now I’m not foolish or naive enough to equate a football game with cancer or financial struggles or the sacrifice of soldiers – but I can’t help but wonder if there is not a lesson for all of us in the words of that church member.

When Paul writes, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances…”, he is not saying that we have to deny that the circumstances are bad or pretend that everything is okay.  However, like my friend the Packers fan, we can find ways to acknowledge our pain and struggle and disappointment and still rejoice and pray and give thanks.

Incidentally, that’s what the last part of verse 18 is all about.  God’s will in Christ for each and every one of us is not that we would be crushed and overwhelmed by the circumstances of our lives, but that by rejoicing, praying and giving thanks, we would overcome them.

That’s what I learned about life from a Green Bay Packers fan.

A Growing Sense of Helplessness

Over the course of the last week or so, I have been following the news of the various "Occupy" protests.  Not real closely, but I have been following.  I have done some reading about what these protesters are upset about and have seen some pretty jarring statistics.  All of this following has led to a mini-crisis in my mind.

To a great extent, I agree with the protesters.  The growing gap between the haves and have nots in our country is untenable.  That the United States is ranked 93rd in the world in income equality (behind China and Iran, among others); that CEO's make, on average, 350 times the salary of a regular employee; that 1% of the population owns 42% of the financial wealth of our nation while 80% share a meager 7% of that wealth; that the bottom 80% of the population control only 15% of our net worth, while the top 5% control 60% - all of these are signs that something is dreadfully wrong.

What makes it even worse in my mind is that so many of those top 5% would likely claim to be "Christian" in their religious views and practice.

But there is nothing Christian about greed, nothing Christian about profiteering, nothing Christian about refusing to pay employees a living wage.  All of these things are, to put it bluntly, immoral.  The Bible clearly speaks about paying men and women a wage that allows them to live.  It also clearly speaks against those who would withhold from others the things necessary for life.  There is even a portion of the Bible that says that the people of God cannot hold someone's cloak as a pledge for debt!  Exodus 22:26-28:

If you take your neighbor's cloak as a pledge, return it by sunset, because that cloak is the only covering your neighbor has.  When they cry out to me, I will hear, for I am compassionate.


Everything takes second place to care of the neighbor.  This is a consistent thread through Scripture.

So why do we feel that we can call ourselves Christians and knowingly take advantage of our neighbor?  How can I continue to support a system that allows some people to go hungry while others are making BILLIONS of dollars?

The simple answer is that I can't.  Which is why I support the protesters.  Call this post my "Occupy Blogger" stand.

The thing is, even as I write those words - that I support the protesters - I realize how impotent and trite they sound.  The poor don't need my words, they need food.  They don't need symbolic stands, they need jobs.  They don't need a blog post that they won't read, they need a living wage.

And in the face of all those needs, I feel helpless.  What good will it do for me to say that the system is broken?  I participate in that system every single day.  Realistically, what can I accomplish?

I don't know...and it is frustrating.  I keep praying that God would show me a way that I can get involved, that I can use my gifts to make a difference and have an impact.  Until he does, I am left to do the only thing I can: offer words of warning and encouragement.

To those who are at the mercy of the system, who are jobless, homeless, hungry and (seemingly) powerless:

But now thus says the Lord,
He who created you, O Jacob,
He who formed you, O Israel,
Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name;
You are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and through the rivers,
the waters shall not overwhelm you.
When you walk through the fire,
you shall not be burned,
the flame shall not consume you.
(Isaiah 43:1-2)


And for those who are a part of the system, who willingly tread on the backs of the poor to make their millions, who ignore the need, who pretend it is no big deal:

When the poor and needy seek water
and there is none;
when their tongue is parched with thirst,
I the LORD will answer them,
I the God of Israel will not forsake them.
(Isaiah 41:17)


jB

My Son & Communion

One of the things that has become apparent in my transition into the United Methodist Church is that there are some areas of theology and church practice on which I will have to develop a new perspective.  The service of Communion is one of those things.

The denomination in which I grew up placed a great deal of emphasis on being an appropriate age to receive communion - one needed to be fully aware of the symbolism of the event and what it all meant.  Of course, I had adopted the same point of view.  It made sense to me.

In the UMC, though, things are done a bit differently.  Children of all ages are encouraged to receive communion...even down to Hannah (almost 6) and Ike (almost 4).  At first, I wasn't sure I wanted my own kids to participate.  I even went so far as to ask Melissa to stop them from receiving...but my wife replied by saying that she wasn't sure she could stop them without causing a scene.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago when we served communion.  My son and daughter were sitting in the back of the sanctuary with one of the older couples in the church.  As the stewards were handing out the bread and juice, I just happened to glance back in time to see my son take the bread.  This seems like an appropriate place to mention that on this particular Sunday we were all receiving the elements together - each was to hold on to the bread and juice until all had been served.

Ike was having none of that.  He grabbed a piece of that bread and popped it straight into his mouth.  In a flash, I went through two different reactions - frustration that he would do that and a realization from God that there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he did.  Moreover, I have come to realize that I need to be more like my son.  While I was somewhat impatiently waiting for the stewards to finish, Ike just couldn't wait to participate.  Even though he doesn't know the symbolism and all the theology of Communion, he instinctively knew the most important part - "This is for me, and I want it...now."

What a difference in attitude!  While we "grown-ups" often spend our time before communion looking around the sanctuary at our fellow worshipers or, if we are really holy, somberly meditating for a few minutes...the children just take what is given to them and cram it in their mouths as fast as they can.  They don't need to think about it, they don't need to know all the details...they just want it.

My prayer is that God would help me to learn to take communion like my son - with less concern for theology and more of an attitude that I just want whatever it is that God is willing to give to me.