Graceful Communion and the Alcoholic

A friend posted an article on Facebook yesterday on the history of using individual glasses for communion as opposed to all drinking from the common chalice.  The essence of the article was that concerns regarding the transmission of disease were one reason, and another reason was racism, that is not wanting to drink from the same chalice as black people.  The latter reason is certainly plausible, especially in places such as the deep South where separate water fountains, etc., were common place.  It would not have been the reason, though, in the many of the Lutheran congregations that adopted the practice for the simple reason that out on the prairies of the Dakotas and Minnesota the congregations were simply not in any way multiracial.  Simply a fact of history and immigration.

What it raised for me, however, is the issue of communion practices as it relates to people such as me who are alcoholics.  I wonder time and time again if people understand. 

Zero is zero.  That's the first thing one should know about alcoholics and communion.  There is not one chemical dependency professional, not one, who would suggest that consuming small amounts of alcohol is OK for an alcoholic in recovery.  Read the entire big book of Alcoholics Anonymous line by line and you will never find even a hint that would suggest that small amounts can be consumed without consequences.  Even non-alcoholic wines contain some alcohol.  Not good.  Zero is zero.

The issue is NOT that we can't tolerate alcohol.  Trust me, my tolerance for alcohol is sky high.  I built up a tolerance for alcohol over years of heavy drinking.  I could consume the entire amount of wine served on a typical Sunday morning without feeling a buzz.  Tolerance?  Hell, there is not a non-alcoholic out there that I couldn't drink under the table.  Tolerance we have.

And the issue isn't even withdrawal.  The amount of alcohol consumed in communion is not likely to produce in me withdrawal symptoms.  I may be wrong as I 've never tested this proposition.  But my gut says no, I wouldn't experience withdrawal after drinking such a small amount.  No shakes.  None of the other deeply troubling symptoms associated with detoxification. 

Well what is the issue then?  It is relapse.  You see, this is the way an alcoholic's mind works.  If I can drink a sip of wine at communion without feeling any effect, if I can do so and not experience any withdrawal symptoms afterward then I will convince myself to seek the limit.  Maybe consuming non-alcoholic wines and beers is OK even though they contain up to 1% alcohol.  And then, the next step is wondering if I can consume a beer or a glass of wine.  Hey, when I was drinking heavily beer and wine did nothing for me.  If it had no effect on me while I was drinking, would it harm me now?

The problem then becomes life threatening.  You see, alcoholism doesn't go away with sobriety.  It continues to progress.  If an alcoholic resumes drinking, even after years of sobriety, they do not revert to a time when they could drink moderately.  They will seek the buzz.  But the toleration is so high that a prodigious amount of alcohol is necessary to produce the feeling.  And even the smallest amount of alcohol can awaken the craving.

During my treatment they related the story of a woman in Coeur d'Alene who successfully went through treatment in her early twenties and went on to have a great career in business.  With 42 years of sobriety behind her she decided that having half a glass of wine with dinner would not harm her.  Eight weeks later she woke up from an alcoholic blackout in an Italian hospital unaware of how she got there.  She had been found, literally in the gutter, licking up the wine she had spilled when she opened a bottle by breaking off the top, and with significant lacerations in her mouth from drinking out of the broken bottle.  Point being, even after decades of sobriety even a small amount of alcohol can indeed hurt you.

Back to communion.  I can't drink any alcohol.  Some would say that I should be content with just the bread then.  That may work for some people, but for me, it just doesn't feel right.  I feel excluded.  It feels incomplete.  Our church has a historic tradition that says withholding the wine from the communicants is not OK, unlike the Roman Catholic tradition.  But most of all, when a church offers only wine and disregards the needs of the alcoholic, what it says to me is that I'm not welcomed and cared for in that place.  I will not return.  I get the message.  And if every Christian congregation had that practice I would simply not be Christian.  I will not compromise my life for the sake of insidious piety.

I don't mind that alcohol is offered at communion as long as there's a non-alcoholic option for me.  Ironically, I've found bars to be far more accommodating of my need for non-alcoholic options that some churches are.  But my alcoholism is no reason for others who are not alcoholic to refrain from responsible drinking.  I have the problem.  All I ask is that you understand that.

What can you do to gracefully welcome the alcoholic at the communion table?  Here is what has been helpful to me.

1. Offer the wine and grape juice in such a manner that I don't have to tell my life story to opt for the grape juice.  It doesn't matter if I'm pregnant (not likely in my case), or on medication, or alcoholic.  Just offer the wine and grape juice and let me make a choice.
2. Don't make me decline one to choose the other.  One server at my home church is so intentional in offering the wine, that he holds it out to me and has already started saying "the blood of Christ shed for you" before I have the chance to say "No" and move on to the grape juice.  
3. If you serve wine and grape juice in the individual glasses in trays, rather than the server taking the glass out of the tray and handing it to me, just let me (and all communicants) take the glass they prefer.  This avoids being offered the wine and having to say no, give me the other.
4. My Synod has started offering grape juice at a separate location.  That helps in that I don't even  have to smell the wine.  Not necessary, but helpful.  I will also note that many use this station even though they don't need the grape juice.  I don't feel singled out by the practice.
5. Make sure it is clear which is the wine and which is the grape juice.  If you are communing with red wine, offer white grape juice.  If you commune with white wine, offer red grape juice, and make it clear in announcements which is which.
6. Welcome the stranger.  I may be visiting in your congregation.  You don't know what I need.  In my current congregation our communion preparer has the tendency to set out grape juice for the specific number of people that normally use it.  Add plenty extra for the visitor.  Please.
7. And finally, glutton free bread should be offered for those who need it.  See all of the above.
8. There are some churches that offer only grape juice.  This certainly makes it easier for the alcoholic, but in keeping with the tenants of Alcoholics Anonymous, I do not suggest it.  Normal people shouldn't have to alter their life because of my problem.  Just allow for me.

In Luther's Small Catechism it is said:  "These words, "Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins," show us that in the Sacrament forgiveness of sins, life and salvation are given us through these words.  For where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation."

When I am offered grape juice, I experience forgiveness.  When I am offered grape juice, I choose life over the death that alcohol threatens me with.  To receive the grape juice as opposed to wine, is salvation for me. 

When an alcoholic is welcomed at the table, it is priceless for them.  We are as a whole well aware of the sinfulness that dominated our lives during our drinking days.  Guilt is part of that, and our journey toward health requires that this guilt be dealt with.  We do it through the fourth and fifth steps.  The Confession of Sins and the Sacrament of Holy Communion offer to us the promise of God that goes beyond what the fourth and fifth steps offer.  This is pure grace.

Sobriety, Solitude, and the Holidays

I drank alone, alot.  Two major reasons for this were that I didn't frequent the bar scene, and my wife hardly drank at all.  Add to that the fact that I was drinking myself to sleep at night, and you end up with a lot of solitary time with a bottle.

And yet there were also those social occasions for drinking with some of my closest friends and colleagues.  A friend and I would get together once a week for a couple of Scotches and dessert.  And gatherings with my ministerial colleagues would almost always involve some down time, often in a hotel room, with an abundance of alcohol to fuel the conversation.

For an introvert like me, such occasions were deeply appreciated.

One of the things I looked forward to was having adult children who would drink with me.  This was, I suppose, a reaction to having a wife that never would. 

There were some opportunities to have my sons in particular as 'drinking buddies'.  A six pack on the golf course.  And then one infamous night at a hotel room somewhere in the middle of North Dakota when my son decided he'd match me drink for drink.  Ha!  He was drinking whiskey sours, I was drinking straight Scotch, and in short order he realized that he was blitzed and I was still going strong.  You'd think that perhaps I'd built up a significant tolerance. . .

When I went through treatment my family supported my sobriety by never drinking in my presence.  And to the best of my knowledge there has not been any alcohol in my house since that time.  I appreciate that.

In recent years, I have found that I don't mind being around people who are drinking beer or wine.  It's only whiskey's pungent odor that I react to.  I call it a "cravulsion", a simultaneous craving for and repulsion to the smell.

Last night, as we are all gathered for the holidays, a second gathering took place at my son's house.  No big deal and to be expected, afterall, there are now two Olson households in town.  My assumption is that a bottle of wine or a beer or two were shared.  Earlier we had enjoyed a prime rib dinner at our house.  There's part of me that wishes that they would feel comfortable now having a glass of wine with such a meal.  They chose to share one later.  That's alright. And truth be told, I'm such an early to bed person and an early riser that I'm not interested in much socializing late at night.  That said, it brings up an issue in our society for people such as myself who live in sobriety.

So much of our social interaction takes place around alcohol that it can be difficult to stay connected in sobriety.  Not impossible, just difficult.  I cannot imagine gathering together with colleagues in a hotel room while they drank heavily and I sipped on a juice or soda.  One thing is the reaction to the smell.  Another is that the company of those who are inebriated is just not enjoyable anymore.  Let's just say that contrary to a drinker's self perception, drunks are not nearly as profound as they believe themselves to be.  I speak from my own experience.

Yet there was an intimacy to those gatherings.  I do miss that.

Now, when I have gone to meetings of my colleagues in ministry I spend much time alone, either in my room, or in the lobby, waiting for someone sober to talk to.  There are not always a lot of options.

In our society a lot of social interaction takes place around alcohol.  Alcoholics in recovery are faced with choices.  Either they learn to interact with those who are drinking without compromising their own sobriety, or they gravitate toward a new group of friends who don't drink.  With family its a different matter.  Except for whiskey, I'm OK with moderate drinking in my presence.  What I'm aware of is that others are more uncomfortable drinking in my presence than I am having them drink in my presence.

The bottom line is that it is a balancing act.  On the one hand, no one else is responsible for my sobriety.  That is my responsibility alone.  I am the one who can no longer drink.  Yet those who have been considerate of my condition are greatly appreciated.  The only thing that is not appreciated is the solitude that comes as an inevitable result. 

And yet there is a more positive side.  I no longer sleep alone.

"Let it be with me according to your word."

"He has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant."

"My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

Discernment.  Would that the Devil were cloaked in darkness and red, and the Holy Spirit in light and a brilliant white.  Discerning the will of God and God's call would be easier.  Perhaps still not fool proof, but easier.

If there is an inherent weakness in being bipolar it is this:  that the extremes of one's mood swings are the Devil's playground.  One's hope in managing this disease is to silence both the manic convictions and the depressed resignation. 

This is a particular struggle in discerning one's direction in life.  And in my case, discerning God's call and where it is leading me in ministry.  My age is such that I believe I have one more 'call', one more chapter in my ministry before me.  And so the question is what might that call be, and where might it lead.

During the first few years of my dealing with this bipolar diagnosis I had become convinced that it was no longer wise for me to be in ministry.  Too many triggers.  Too many possibilities that the symptoms of the disease could become the fodder for failure.  Chief among these is the fact that at risk sexual behavior and exploits is a known symptom of manic episodes.  Incompatible with pastoral ministry for sure.  It's not that it's always a symptom of manic episodes, but it can be.  I became convinced that one of the reasons my medical team was hesitant to give me a carte blanche endorsement to return to ministry was that the possibility of sexual misconduct was sufficient enough that neither of them would want the liability associated with such an endorsement. 

Those concerns fueled a depressed resignation.  I would never be able to serve again. 

Yet treatment is real.  Brain chemistry can be altered.  Medications are effective.  And hope was reborn.

A year and a half ago I re-entered ministry, serving part time as a transitional minister.  It has gone well.  My status as a "transitional" minister means that I am serving first as an interim pastor, helping the congregation through a period of discernment regarding their future, but with the option that it could become a permanent call.  That possibility puts on the table the prospect that I am where I am intended to be and remain.  Or not.

Whether my future involves continuing to serve in my current call or not, there is a significant desire to be engaged full time in ministry, once again.  I have been combining my part-time call with work in a cabinet shop.  I find myself desiring more.  The cabinetry is not rewarding.  Let's just say that at the end of my career, I don't want to look back at the last ten years and know that one of the primary things I did was to make closet shelves for high end homes in the Bahamas.  There has got to be something more.

It is tempting to try and 'make it happen'.  And make it good.

I find deep meaning in the words from Mary and Paul.  The common theme is that our lowliness, our weakness, need not limit God's ability to work through us, but rather can clear the way for God's grace and will to be done, not our own.

Let it be with me according to your Word, for your power is made perfect in weakness. 

And so I find myself wondering where the Spirit will blow.  I look at the neighborhood around our congregation in Otis Orchards and see a new development that will bring hundreds of  new residents, 55 and older, right next door.  This presents a real and unique opportunity for developing this congregation's mission and outreach.  A worthy calling.

But there might also be other options that present themselves.  The future is not yet known. 

The bottom line is that I have come a point of determining that I will not live out my life as a willing victim of a disease that need not limit me.  I choose rather to trust in the grace of God to work through me, where ever and whenever God wills.  And I do so believing that perhaps I have grown through this whole process of confronting my weakness.  I now know more fully that who ever we are, where ever we serve, it is not about us.  It is not about me. 

Together with Mary, each of us in our own way are simply called to declare "Here am I, the servant of the Lord."

A Remnant Shall Return, A Shoot from the Stump of Jesse

I began my ministry with grand thoughts and great expectations.  The Lutheran Church in America, the American Lutheran Church, and the Association of Evangelical Lutheran Churches had just merged to form our current body, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.  This was to be 'our Church', as opposed to our parent's church.  As young adults Karla and I had committed ourselves to service in this Church.  Karla also had the opportunity to work in the office of the Presiding Bishop of the American Lutheran Church throughout our seminary years and had a front row seat to witness and participate in all the details leading up to the merger.  My own goals were centered around being a mission developer in this Church, starting new congregations.  The future looked bright.

But the world changed.

The Church stopped growing.  The steady expansion of the Church that had begun in the post war era was now over.  Major evangelism efforts had only the effect of curbing the losses, not extending the outreach.  One of the ELCA's goals, to become a more inclusive Church, hit one brick wall after another.  Little progress was made.  A goal that was envisioned to be attainable in ten years has not been even moderately achieved in thirty, in fact almost no progress has been made.  Major losses of membership occurred as result of Ecumenical agreements, and decisions regarding human sexuality.  But most of all, my parents generation simply died.  And my children's generation has simply not filled in behind them.  The denomination has declined by approximately 1/3 during the last three decades.

My manic side schemed and dreamed.

Two multi-congregational parishes were formed.  A  new congregation was organized.  A sister congregation in Russia became a focus.  And in my most powerful manic episode to date I saw senior housing as a tool to expand the Church's ministry and extend its outreach.  Luther Park at Sandpoint was developed.  And an even larger more ambitious project, the Beacon at Southridge, was conceived and pursued, only to become a victim of the economic collapse in 2008.  The hope was that these senior housing projects would provide the resources for expansion as well as the contacts with people and the opportunity for meaningful ministry.  The baby-boomers would return as we cared for their aging parents.

Didn't happen.

Mania gave way to depression, and unbridled optimism to a guarded pessimism.  My world collapsed.  Alcoholism had to be treated.  Bipolar disorder was diagnosed and treatment began.  I went on disability as I began to sort out my life and seek healing.

The vision is different now.

I believe that we are in a new era in the Church's life, an unwelcome chapter in our history.  The age of Christendom is over.  Secularism is the norm in our society.  I'm struck that I've never had the opportunity to welcome into the congregation's life any couples like Karla and I, young, enthusiastic, and chomping at the bit, ready to take the reigns and lead.  And we were not unique.  When I became the president of our congregation at the ripe old age of 24, I joined a cadre of other young leaders, some who had been doing the same thing since they had graduated from college.

9/11 was supposed to change things.

For a few weeks attendance was up.  But unlike the two world wars and a great depression that shaped my parent's generation and fueled the Church's expansion during the post war era-- 9/11 simply didn't impact our lives much.

I have come to the point of wondering if we are heading into a period of epic proportions in the Church's life.  How much more will the Church decline?  How many congregations will close?

The center of Christianity is shifting globally from Europe and North America to Africa and Asia.
In our country, even weddings and funerals are becoming a secular affair.

I feel deep within my soul that our mission today has much in common with that of the Israelites during the exile.  We are tasked with preserving the remnant of God's people from which the Church will be reborn after the necessary and inevitable dying occurs.  What I did not realize entering ministry when I dreamed the great dreams and envisioned this wonderful new Church, was that there would be a dying and much grief to experience prior to the rebirth and new life.  The soil needs tilling as well as planting.  There is a lot of ground to cover between seed time and harvest.

Now, I simply cling to the promise.  Even as I wonder how long this period of 'exile' will last, I remain convinced that God will not turn away from us forever.  And I  hope that when the Church rebounds it will become the more vibrant and inclusive body we have longed for. If we do our work well during this time of exile, perhaps the Spirit will guide our rebirth in such a manner that we might become that which we were meant to be.