Yesterday we gathered together to celebrate communion in our church and today we shall do the same among those of our fellowship who are scattered around our area but, who because of illness or infirmity, were unable to share with us as we came together.



We shall visit one lady today where I never know what will happen next.



She lives in a Care Home and like many other residents she is distinctly hard of hearing. Hence when we go the TV in the lounge will be at volume setting 11. To compensate for this, the other folk will shout to one another and the frequently ringing bells for telephone and front door are amplified in every room.



Into such a melee we bring scripture reading and the bread and wine to an elderly woman whose memory is now such that she may remember the eucharistic purpose of the elements (but not recognise any of us who go), or she may know who we are, but be bemused at the paucity of our picnic. Rarely will the two collide in their most positive potential.


The last time we visited, (I do not make this up) there were builders doing renovations with power- tools and an resident observer who shouted obsenities from the touchline of a neighbouring chair.



I can't believe there were quite so many audio distractions on the night he was betrayed, but these visits do remind me that the first Last Supper was probably not conducted in pious silence either.



It also reminds me that, as George MacLeod once said, Jesus was not crucified on a Cathedral altar between two silver candle sticks but on a nosiy rubbsh dump between two thieves.



Perhaps we need more space for public Eucharist as prophetic acts and mission in a busy, noisy world .