What to Tell a New Eight-Year-Old About the Sacrament Prayers

The bread prayer and the water prayer are not the same prayer. I'd heard them both a few thousand times before I noticed, because the priest kneels, the same careful voice goes through the same cadence twice, and the ear files it as one blessing said two times. But the bread prayer asks three things of us and the water prayer asks one, and when you have a child sitting next to you who just started taking the sacrament, that difference turns out to be useful.

Here is the bread prayer, from the Doctrine and Covenants.

"O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it, that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given them; that they may always have his Spirit to be with them. Amen." (D&C 20:77)

Willing to take his name, willing to remember him, willing to keep his commandments. Then the water prayer (D&C 20:79, where it still says wine) drops it down to "that they do always remember him." Both end with the Spirit.

What is she supposed to be thinking about?

Lily asked me this a couple of Sundays after her baptism, on the walk home, and she wanted to know if there was a wrong answer. I think she'd been sitting there for the whole passing worrying that she was thinking about the wrong thing, which is a very eight-year-old way to spend ten minutes.

So I gave her a job for each part. For the bread, think of one thing Jesus did that you know from a story. Any story. Lily picked the loaves and fishes because it has bread in it, and I did not argue. For the water, there's nothing to figure out, you just say his name in your head and mean it. That's the whole assignment, and it fits the prayer, because the water prayer only asks that we remember him.

An eight-year-old thinks in pictures and actions, so "remember" has to be something she can actually do. Telling her to ponder the Atonement gets you a nod and nothing behind it. Asking her what bread reminds her of gets you an answer, even if the answer is toast.

The Savior's own words in the Book of Mormon are about as plain as scripture gets on this:

"And this shall ye do in remembrance of my body, which I have shown unto you. And it shall be a testimony unto the Father that ye do always remember me. And if ye do always remember me ye shall have my Spirit to be with you." (3 Nephi 18:7)

Jesus asked them to do it, and then he said what comes of it. Children follow that kind of sentence easily. We asked you to do a thing, here is why, here is what you get.

My own mind goes to the grocery list about half the time. I told Lily that too, and she looked relieved in a way I didn't expect.

The word "willing" does most of the work

I wouldn't try to explain covenants to a third-grader. I taught third grade for five years and I can tell you what happens to the word. It becomes a thing adults say.

"Willing" is different. A child knows what willing means, she knows the difference between being willing to share the good scooter and being willing to share the one with the working brake, and she knows you can be willing and still not do it perfectly. So I tell Lily the bread is where she says to God that she's willing to try to be like Jesus and remember him and do what he asks. God is promising to help her by sending his Spirit. Nowhere does it say she has to be good at it already. She said a version of that herself the week she was baptized ("I'm supposed to be good at it now"), and I'd like her to hear, every Sunday, that the prayer says willing.

What to do with a toddler for those ten minutes

Ben is two and nine months and isn't going to sit still because I asked nicely. He turns eight in the fall of 2031, which feels both a long way off and not very far.

Here is the unglamorous version of what works at our house. The quiet things come out of the bag when the bread starts down the rows, and go back in when the water has passed. That's the only time he sees them, so they're worth something. Then I turn him around on my lap, facing the aisle, so he can see the tray coming instead of just hearing everyone go still. He can't take any yet. I tell him in his ear that the bread is for Lily and Caleb this time, that his turn is a long way off, and he says "Lily" back to me, about half the time on the wrong beat. It isn't a lot, but it's the beginning of the idea that this is something the family does together, and that he's headed there.

The part I'd tell a new mother is to sit where you can reach the tray before he can. Hands in your lap, tray passes, hands out again. If he grabs, you grab back gently and nobody in that pew has ever thought less of you for it. I wrote about the foyer comparison a while ago and I still believe that the person you're worried is watching is mostly worried about their own child (this is why I stopped measuring myself against the mom in the foyer).

A child who fidgets can still take the sacrament

I want to say this one plainly because it gets lost. Wiggling doesn't disqualify anyone. Neither does forgetting the words, or a mind that drifts, or a seat in the back where nobody can see. D&C 27:2 is mostly about what's in the cup, but it also says to partake "with an eye single to my glory," and that describes where the heart is pointed. It doesn't say a word about sitting still. Lily's been asking what things are for all month. She asked me about the temple dedication not long ago, and I wrote up what I told her in My Eight-Year-Old Asked What a Temple Dedication Is For. The sacrament is the same kind of question, and I'd rather she keep asking it than learn to stop.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why is it water if the prayer says wine?

The prayer is from 1830 and still says wine. The Lord said in D&C 27:2 that "it mattereth not what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink when ye partake of the sacrament" as long as the heart is right, so we use water. A child will accept that in one sentence, and Lily did.

Does my child need to understand all of this before taking the sacrament?

No. If she knows it's about remembering Jesus and that she's trying, that's enough for an eight-year-old, and she'll understand more of it at twelve and more again at thirty. I'm still working on it myself.

Is it okay to give my toddler a snack during the sacrament?

I think so, and I'd rather have a quiet child with a dry cracker than a loud one without. I do put it away before the tray gets close, so nobody has to explain to a two-year-old why his bread is different from the bread two rows up.

My toddler reaches for the tray every time. What do I do?

Sit on the side where the tray reaches you first, hold his hands, and whisper that this one isn't his yet. Most wards have seen this a thousand times. Nobody keeps score.

Before Sunday, read the bread prayer out loud with your eight-year-old, find the word "willing" together and ask what she'd tell a friend it means. Five minutes at the table will do more than any explanation I can give you from a pew.

with love, Melissa