Take more, take more

On the generosity of the Spirit

In the chapter titled “Blessing” in Dakota: A Spiritual Geography, Kathleen Norris writes of a spring ritual after the conclusion of evening vespers at the monastery with which she was connected. I recently reread Dakota, having first read it many years ago. A friend had mentioned the book to me and it triggered a desire to again open its pages. Norris describes the community’s solemn walk, led by the gardeners, from the church to the garden. A cross, incense, seedlings were carried. The abbot led prayer and sprinkled holy water on the plants and the soil. A petition, a blessing.

The chapter ends with a brief story of a young monk in a black habit who picked a sprig of lilac to take back to his room. An old monk observed him, and called after him, “Take more. Take more.”

Reading those two words, repeated, propelled me back decades.

“Take more, take more.”

It was a Sunday morning, and Communion was being served. The congregants would first pass the plate of bread down a pew row before handing it to the server who would then pass it on to the next row. Christ’s body broken for you, said each person before handing the plate to the next person. The cycle would repeat with the passing of the cup. Christ’s blood shed for you.

I was a young woman, mid-twenties, and seated at the end of the pew. Christ’s body broken for you, said the person holding the plate for me. I broke a piece from the loaf, picked up the plate, and turned to hand it to the server.

Instead of moving on to the next pew, the woman serving communion passed the plate back to me and jiggled it a bit. “Take more, take more,” she insisted with a smile. And so I did. I took a bigger piece.

The server was the mother of a dear friend and also one of the first few women to be ordained as a minister in the denomination to which I belonged. She delivered the directive with kindness, with authority, with joy. I’ve never forgotten it. She gave me a gift then, but also an invitation—dare I even say a challenge—and reading this story that pointed me so directly back to that memory suggests to me the gift, the invitation, the challenge continue to be offered.

Take more, take more.

~~~

[Photo: taken of backyard bee balm. Every morning the bees arrive and gulp and gulp. Take more, I’m starting to tell them. Take more.]