Communion Sunday, the ushers were passing the little
silver plate with the bread up an down the row like it was
an offering plate. As the plate with the pieces of unleven
bread was being passed to me, a nice big piece of it caught
my eye. I knew exactly which big chewy piece I was gong
to grab before passing down the row. But, alas beauty is
only skin deep.
To my dismay the beautiful bit of bread was as thin as a
piece of skin, and almost as smooth on one side, while the
other side looked like it had been ripped out of the loaf.
In all the years of taking communion, I donít think was ever
more cognitive of the idea that "this is my body which is
broken for you."
While the pastor talked about the Last Supper, I couldnít
help but play with this little piece of "skin" no larger than
the end of my finger. Thinking about how the whips must
of cut into the back and ribs of Jesus, tearing out chunks
of skin and flesh.
It was an odd sensation trying to chew this little strip
of bread crust, it rather reminded me of trying to chew
a piece of chicken skin, no real substance but kind of
chewy, but not greasy. In that moment I really felt like
I was eating the flesh of Jesus. The light streaming in
the window giving the grape juice a deep red color as I
reflected on the blood of Jesus. I was almost disappointed
that it tasted like grape juice.
Usually Iím more focused on the theological and intellectual
meaning of communion but some times we need to experience
the physical and sensual aspects of the bread and the wine to
appreciate the suffering that Jesus endured when he was
crucified in order to cleanse our souls, and find the joy in
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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