"I Got a Dud"

Before I can tell this story, I need to preface it just a bit. I go to a small, non-denominational church in a west side suburb of Indianapolis. We have communion every other week. I don't care to get into a communion debate on this blog entry. I'm certainly open to talking about my views on the subject, but I don't think this post is the time and place. But it IS necessary for me to explain how we do communion at our church so the story makes sense (for those two or three readers who do not already attend the same church that I attend).

We make our own unleavened loaf of bread for communion and serve it with grape juice. Those who are participating in communion simply come up to the front of the room in a line to pull off a piece of bread and get a small cup of the juice sitting on a fancy table to bring back to their seat. The juice is served in a small disposable plastic cup made specifically for communion services. Many of you have seen these before. They look like this...


If you've had any experience with them, you know that occasionally you'll get a bad batch of cups that leak--not good when you're taking the time to reflect on the blood and body of Christ shed on the cross, but sometimes it just happens. (We recently tried to switch over to the reusable glass cups, but the verdict is still out on these with our congregation.)

While we don't have assigned seats at church, many of you know that certain people sit in the same seats each week (I'm guilty of that, too--if it's a crime). One such person is Darrel (that's not his real name--I'm changing it for this blog). He's the grandfather of good friends of ours (the wife is a blogger) and has been a member for at least three or four years (I really don't know). Darrel is an older widower who is the kind of man that would do anything for anyone. He loves the Word of God and has a great sense of humor. His voice is deep and resonant (I wish we could get him to sing bass in our ensemble group).

Since he sits in the back row, he's usually one of the last (if not the last) to get his bread and cup. I almost always sit in one of the front rows (it makes me better than you!!!) and get to see everyone coming up to receive the bread and juice--something that I really love.

It shouldn't surprise you at this point when I tell you that Darrel's cup had a leak. He picked it up and started walking down the aisle towards his seat when he realized that there were only a few drops of juice left. Upon realizing that his cup was empty, he stopped and turned back to the table to get another cup. He looked up at the Elder who was performing the communion service and who also has a great sense of humor, and whispered, "I got a dud."

I have not heard the word, "dud" in quite a long time. In my experience, it's usually associated with faulty fireworks (e.g. a fire-cracker that just sizzles and smokes instead of popping). For some reason, this simple remark set me off laughing. It took me at least ten minutes to recover. Sure, I could go on about the fact that we never get "duds" from Christ to create some sort of spiritual significance to this post, but I won't. Darrel's comment was succinct and just plain funny. I noticed that the pastor (my father-in-law) and the Elder leading the service also took a few minutes to recover. I'm not sure if anyone else will think that it's that funny, but I thought I'd share it with all 17 of you.