Eucharistic Memories: Age 2-4
Quoted sections are from chapters 66 and 67 of
Justin Martyr’s First Apology, c. AD 150
For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Saviour, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh. For the apostles, in the memoirs composed by them, which are called Gospels, have thus delivered unto us what was enjoined upon them; that Jesus took bread, and when He had given thanks, said, “This do ye in remembrance of Me, this is My body;” and that, after the same manner, having taken the cup and given thanks, He said, “This is My blood;” and gave it to them alone . . .
I don’t think I’ve ever talked to anyone about this before, and am not sure what prompts me to write about it now. But . . . here it is:
I was not baptized until age 8 when we joined an OPC congregation. Obviously, neither was I welcomed to the Lord’s Table until after that. Since for almost six years after my 12th birthday my family attended a church that required confirmation to gain access to the Table, the first time I took communion I was a teenager. Well, at least officially . . .
The practice of Lord’s Supper always fascinated me. Since the age of two I can remember watching my parents participate in it along with the rest of the adults in church. I took it for granted that it was not for kids. Of course, I didn’t know why. That was just the way it was.
Once, when we brought an African American boy with us to church as part of some evangelical outreach, he became very excited when the elders began to pass around bread and . . . grape juice.
“Hey,” he said aloud, “they’re giving us food!” I hushed him quickly, explaining to him in a terse whisper that the food was for the grown-ups. He didn’t quite get it, and I saw the confused and slightly offended look on his face when the elders passed us by without giving us any. Well, duh, I thought (no, I didn’t actually know the word “duh” yet). It’s not for kids.
But even though I knew it was a grown-up thing, I imagined having a part in it, similar to the way that at the age of 3 I packed a little briefcase (actually the case to a toy medical kit) and pretended I was going to the office with my father one morning. I knew what communion was and what it meant, as much as a three-year-old can understand. The grape juice represented Jesus’ blood and the bread his body. I didn’t really know what that meant (who really does, fully?), but it was something Jesus did, and that meant it was a good thing. To me, a piece of bread together with a cup has been iconic of the Lord’s Supper for as long as I can remember.
Whenever I had grape juice at home, I’d ask for bread too, secretly pretending I was having communion. I remember unsuccessfully trying to pretend once with bread and orange juice, since grape juice was unavailable at that moment. I glibly told my mother that I was having communion, but she told me I shouldn’t pretend that. I conceded, yeah, orange juice was not very authentic.
Our church, Cornerstone Bible Church, where my father was an elder, met in a college classroom. After church service I’d drag my friends into some adjoining classroom and pretend to have another service, pushing a chair to the front of the room so I could climb up onto it and stand behind the podium to speak. Sometimes they humored me.
Early on at Cornerstone, after service my mother would let me have the bread that was left over from communion. Yep, that’s right. The actual bread that had sat in the communion tray and had been consecrated for holy use, as much as that meant to us back then. For my part, I never considered that a normal afternoon snack. There was something special about that bread, even if I couldn’t express exactly what it was. After all, as one can see from the examples above, even though my family had a more or less baptist understanding of the sacraments at the time, I’d been raised with a healthy respect and a deep appreciation for the Lord’s Table, and it sure took. As much as I liked to pretend when I could with bread and grape juice, this was different. This was the real thing.
For whatever reason, I stopped getting the “leftovers” fairly early on, much to my disappointment.1 But I’ve remembered it to this day, and, at least as far as the church fathers would have seen it, that would have been my first conscious participation in the Eucharistic elements, even if there never seemed to be any leftover grape juice.
And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons.
At that age, somewhere between 2 and 4, I was like one who had been absent from the table (though I was never absent from the worship service) and was given the elements after the dismissal. Though there certainly was an amount of impropriety about my taking the elements then, since I hadn’t yet been baptized, I took them (or one of them, at least) nonetheless.
It made me feel a part of something bigger. It gave a sense of belonging along with the grown-ups of the church. I suppose if I can put words to the exact feeling it gave me, I’d say it made me feel special. But isn’t that one of the central points of Communion? It’s an expression of unity among and within the body. A meal reserved for the called-out ones.
Can I say that I derived any real spiritual benefit from it? Perhaps, if we acknowledge the objectivity of the sacraments and the real presence of Christ in the Supper when it is presented beside the preaching of the Word.
Even as Eucharist means to give thanks, that is what I do. I’m thankful every day that I was raised in a Christian home where I was always aware of the goodness of God. Where Christ was presented to me in Word and sacrament every single Lord’s Day (well, sacrament was once a month), even if I was not officially welcome to partake of the latter.
The lesson to be learned is simple: Never underestimate how much your little children understand or how even the slightest bit of inclusion in the life of the Church will benefit them, both now and in the future. And don’t discount the messages that exclusion sends them either.
It is said that a child’s most formative time of life is at about age 3. For the rest of their lives, long after they may have forgotten details or even whole events, that period of growth remains etched in their subconscious, molding their perceptions of the world.
Children are born to instinctively imitate their parents unless and until they are taught otherwise. If we really want them to imitate us in faith, then why should we, by our actions, teach them not to during their most formative years? If you want your children to follow you in faith, then teach them how to by including them in it. And teach them early.
Psalm 22:9-10
Yet you are he who took me from the womb;
you made me trust you at my mother’s breasts.
On you was I cast from my birth,
and from my mother’s womb you have been my God.
- Incidentally, from this early time on, my sensitivity to the Supper gradually dulled—as an older child, I just eventually stopped seeing it as all that important to me—only to be renewed when I started partaking again and realized what I’d been missing. ↩
Tags: baptism, Eucharist, first communion, Justin Martyr, Liturgy, Lord's Supper, paedocommunion
History, Liturgy, Personal, Theology | Christopher Kou | 
October 15, 2008 4:46 PM
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Thanks Christopher. How might you apply "This do in remembrance of Me" to your childhood experiences with the elements?
Well, I think a pretty simple application would be for those who withhold both sacraments from children until a "credible" profession of faith is made. It would be worthwhile to reexamine just how much they might understand, even if they can't express all of it.It might do good to at least consider administering both sacraments to young children, if not because of covenant promises, then at least because it is more likely than not that at that age they can and do have real faith.Children are made to imitate their parents unless and until they are taught otherwise. If we really want them to imitate us in faith, then WHY should we, by our actions, teach them not to during their most formative years?Hmmmm . . . like that. Will add that to the post. Might take a while for it to show up here.
Very well put, particularly the latter paragraph. And a credible profession of faith can be made as early as 2, I think.
It's interesting the way so many churches expect their children to be good little Christians but then proceed to treat them as outsiders. We always attended churches that wouldn't allow children to be baptized until they were "old enough to understand" — whenever that supposedly is. I remember feeling indignant that they would treat me differently just because I was young.Anyway, thanks for sharing. That was a good reminder and a lot of fun to read.
I never had doubts about the Lord's Supper, but I did have doubts about reciting the creeds– I mean, I was just a little– could I really believe this stuff? Maybe only the grown-ups were supposed to say it. My parents were pretty shocked (and very apologetic) when they later found out I was having those doubts!
*just a little kid
Who said anything about doubts?In any case, I didn't learn the creeds until we joined the OPC, since before that we were a baptistic independent Bible church.Lydia, glad you enjoyed it. I don't usually post personal thoughts or memories, but this one seemed appropriate to write up. And you thought I could only write for debates . . . :cD
I remember pretending to take communion when the elements were being passed at the OPC. Jon and I would pretend to take the bread and the cup, and as the supper was administered, we'd play along. I remember getting really sour looks from the adults.