Isaiah's First Communion

Alright, so today is Sunday and Jose decided that it was a Sunday he wanted to go to church. He's sort of wierd on the Sundays he decides to go and not go. Going to church is never more important that overtime, but if he doesn't work, or doesn't want to sleep in, then we must all jump up and go. Today, Jose had originally planned to go to the 9:30 service, as Franklin had to be at work and we could drop him off on the way in. And me, being the generally non-church person, was not about to let anyone not go to church if I had to go (though Franklin tried to steal my malicious joy as we walked in saying he didn't care if he went to church ... which was a commendable effort, but I saw his face when he stumbled from his room to the bathroom this morning after going to bed after midnigh - and he cared.) So, because we were going to have to leave early, we kept Isaiah with us in the church service instead of taking him to Sunday school. And this week, they had communion. They had communion two weeks ago too -- so I'm wondering if perhaps the fact that the church purchased the catholic property next door (bought the church and are going to tear it down to expand) has perhaps resulted in adopting some practices - who knows. Anyway, Isaiah, who was pretty happy to hear the music. Wanted to have someone read the words on the jumbotron thing they have, and was not quite sure how to effectively whisper was holding his own in church. And apparently, he was listening much more closely than I ever listened in church, because when the deacons began to pass out the grape juice and wafers, he got really upset. When I asked him what was wrong, he said "I don't want to drink blood. That's blood." And there I was torn between getting tickled and then panicked that I had just created a religious zealot who really really believed the symbolism was in fact a reality (sort of like Jose Luis Jesus Miranda who believes he is the 2nd Jesus - no really). He absolutely refused to try the wafer, but I was able to get him to taste the grape juice after tasting it first in front of him. Then, once he realized that it was not blood, he was pretty quick to ask for some more. But it's the panic that was important and just goes to show you that faith isn't something that is acquired, it's something that's learned -- and I'm not sure that I want it to be learned or not. It's my forever debate - between the logical, rational part of my mind that says no way and the part of me that was told since infancy that this is true. It's a debate for later.