One of the things I do for church is representing my congregation as an alternate deanery delegate.
This includes attending tri-annual meetings with delegates from other congregations in the Northwest Deanery of the Episcopal Diocese of the Rio Grande.
Lofty, I know. It is a governing body within the diocese and I have represented my church for about four years.
The meetings have a service of some kind built into them prior to lunch. Yesterday was a full-length service with hymns, readings, Eucharist and a Gospel procession.
It was at this point of the meeting when my hands decided that they just could not behave anymore. So I took some Aleve when we passed the peace.
This information is important because I shook a few hands of fellow delegates and clergy. Most clergy have a gentler handshake. Then there are others who come equipped with a Kung Fu grip.
After the un-peaceful peace was passed to me by Kung Fu grip priest, I managed to escape to take the Aleve and hope that a short Eucharistic prayer was chosen.
Thankfully, it was a shorter Eucharistic Prayer as I grasped my wrists and massaged my fingers while waiting in line to receive the host.
When I approached the altar rail, I did not look the Eucharist minister in the eye when I received the Bread of Heaven for fear of looking too much like an early Christian saint.
Now this Eucharistic minister is a newly minted Deacon named J.P. Arrosa. Although we’ve not shared more than a couple of words between us, the general vibe I get is that he’s alright. He’s doing his year of transitional diaconate at my church St. Francis Episcopal in Rio Rancho.
If you find yourself on the Westside on a Sunday at around 10 a.m. drop on in, we have coffee after the service.
Anyway, after praying for my wrists and fingers to be released from bondage in time for lunch…