You would notice this man in any room. He’s probably in his 80’s, possibly 90’s, but that is not distinguishing. His whole face is eclipsed by his nose. He has a huge snozzle that is hawk-like, almost cartoonish. Perhaps it would not look so noticeable if he had teeth but he does not. A little slot, not unlike an ATM machine rests under his nostrils.
The first time I met him, I was assisting the chaplain do communion. She stopped by his wheelchair, after a nod that he wanted to partake, she took a wafer, small, white, dry, dipped it in the juice and slid it in the slot for a mouth. Not unlike my ATM card, it slid right out. His tongue had not grasped it. She slid it in again. It slid out again. And so the routine continued until his tongue grabbed the wafer and there it sat to dissolve.
Wednesday, Ash Wednesday that is, he received the ashes on his forehead and then we weaved our way through the wheel chairs giving communion. Mr. ATM nodded agreement. Into the slot went the crumpled wafer and out it came. The chaplain had moved on so I pushed the reluctant wafer into his mouth a second time and moved on. Sure enough, afterwards on the way back from the elevator from delivering residents to be carried to their floor, I ran into Mr. ATM and the wafer was dangling from his lips. I removed the soggy thing and wondered.
Had the machine read enough of the information on the ATM card to receive the blessing? We believe it is not the saintliness of the giver nor the saintliness of the receiver that makes communion effective. It is God’s word working through the elements. I hope the word is enough for Mr. ATM and his malfunctioning receiver.
On the Way to Wonder 