communion, tarot, and Lavina Fielding Anderson: some thoughts on sacraments

My kid is being raised by a mother who is entirely done with anything that smacks of religion and a father who is very non-literal and not very exclusivist, so it’s unsurprising that she tends to pick and choose when she wants to do church stuff with me. If I’m driving over to Louisville to attend church in person, she’ll usually come with me. If I’m attending church via Zoom because Louisville is over an hour away, she tends to read or play in her room instead. A few weeks ago, though, when she realized it was Communion Sunday (in Community of Christ, the first Sunday of the month), she insisted that I call her over when it was time for communion so that she could be part of that.

Kiddo has always loved communion. When she was younger, I thought it might be just because it seemed like a snack, but she’s old enough that half a cracker and some juice can’t possibly be as exciting as it used to be. I don’t think she perceives any religious significance in it (she doesn’t particularly care for the prayers and definitely isn’t a fan of kneeling for them), but I do think she recognizes some deeper meaning to it that goes beyond just half a cracker and some juice. And you know what? So do I. Communion bread and juice always seems to taste better to me than regular bread and juice do. That was true when I was attending a Latter-day Saint ward in France, where the bishop’s family would pick up fresh, amazing bread from a local bakery the day before, but it’s also true when it’s relatively boring U.S. grocery store bread and juice. (In fact, I am now obligated to link to this Dumbing of Age strip).

All of this tracks with how I now understand sacraments (what I grew up calling “ordinances”). My understanding follows Community of Christ’s understanding pretty closely, though I know from conversations with friends that this understanding is also present in Catholic and other Christian theologies, too—it’s not unique to this denomination. Here’s a passage from Sharing in Community of Christ:

Sacraments are special ministries given to the church to convey the grace of Jesus Christ to his followers and all those he yearns to touch with his compassion. […] In these ministries, God sanctifies common elements of creation to bless human life and to renew and form the church to seek the peaceful kingdom of God.

I like that last sentence in particular: “God sanctifies common elements of creation.” I love communion, but I don’t think it’s the bread and the juice that make communion special, or even the prayers—it’s the way that we take mundane things in our life and ascribe extra meaning to (and perceive additional significance in) them.

In many ways, this is basic human meaning-making activity; that is, it’s not the sole purview of religious organizations to be “sacramental” in that sense. Over the past several months, kiddo has gotten really into “witch” stuff, especially with the help of my sister and her soon-to-be wife, who are serving as the queer witchy aunts that everyone should have in their life. I remember being struck by one Facetime call where my sister was walking kiddo through doing tarot readings. She explained tarot readings in very similar ways to how I think about sacraments: It’s not something that she thinks has any inherent value to it, but it’s a tradition she’s added to her life that uses simple elements to add some meaning and reflection to her life.

A few weeks before that conversation, I had similar thoughts as kiddo was walking us through a “family love spell” in one of the witchy books she’d checked out from the library. It was as simple as heating up some milk on the stove, mixing in some cinnamon, and then expressing love and commitment for each other as we each drank from our mug of yummy milk. As I drank the milk, though, it seemed to taste better than I would have expected, in the same way that bread and juice taste better when I take them off the communion plate. To be honest, I had thought the whole think a little hokey, and I wasn’t really sure what I thought of my kid going through a book of “magic spells,” but it seemed to carry some sacramental weight when we went through the steps.

I hope my kid grows up with “sacraments” in her life, because I think we all need traditions that take mundane actions and objects and turn them into vehicles for meaning and reflection. As I’ve seen her explore tarot and “spells” and other things, I decided pretty quickly that I don’t need those sacraments to be the same ones that add meaning to my life. I’ll be glad when she joins me for bread and juice on a Communion Sunday, but as long as she adds some sacramental practices to her life, I think I’ll be happy.

I’ve been meaning to write this post for ages, but a recent news story really got me thinking about it. Lavina Fielding Anderson, an excommunicated Mormon feminist who was denied rebaptism near the end of her life, had that baptism (and other Latter-day Saint sacraments) restored about a year after her life. According to Peggy Fletcher Stack’s article, her son requested to be involved in the posthumous baptism (which would be nothing out of the ordinary in Latter-day Saint circles). Instead, the article explains, church leaders:

authorized others to do the rituals, known as “ordinances,” without inviting him to be included in any way or informing him it was happening until eight days after it was a fait accompli.

I am glad that my current view of sacraments is one that allows room for other people (including my kid) to find deep meaning from ordinary rituals and objects in ways that are different than what I do. I’m also glad, though, that sacraments are more than just a checklist to get into heaven. I think there are sacramental elements to how Latter-day Saints approach communion, baptism, and other rituals, but Lavina Fielding Anderson’s rebaptism is a reminder that much of the Latter-day Saint approach to sacraments that I grew up with is just a matter of doing things the right way in order to be right before God. From that more checklist perspective, there’s nothing lacking from her rebaptism if her son wasn’t involved in it after all; from a meaning-focused sacramental perspective, though, that seems to me to be a pretty big difference.

• macro
• Communities
• communion
• sacraments
• tarot
• Lavina Fielding Anderson
• parenting
• Community of Christ
• Dumbing of Age
• Salt Lake Tribune
• Peggy Fletcher Stack