“Take this bread, broken as my body is broken…eat this, in remembrance of me…”
Eat this, in remembrance of Jesus, a teacher, a pastor, a radical, a beloved son whose body was broken by a system that could not bear his truths.
Eat this, in remembrance of Sharon, the coworker whose body was broken one too many times by a violent spouse.
Eat this, in remembrance of Michael, the homeless Desert Storm vet whose body was broken when his staggering body hit the hood of my car, rolled over the roof, and crashed onto the pavement.
Eat this, in remembrance of Tricia, the beloved woman who shared my life and whose body was broken by the ravages of drug addiction, shame, and struggle.
Eat this, in remembrance of Rick, a fellow thespian whose body was broken by the HIV virus before he could create his dramatic masterpiece.
Eat this, in remembrance of my self, whose soul has been broken by grief, and trauma, and depression, and heartache – but whose body still has power and presence and the ability to help the least of these.
“This wine is my blood, my life poured out … drink this, in remembrance of me…”
Drink this, in remembrance of Jesus, whose blood drained from his body as he hung on the cross.
Drink this, in remembrance of Sharon, whose blood gathered in bruises that betrayed her best efforts to hide the abuse.
Drink this, in remembrance of Michael, whose blood stained the asphalt as his life left him..
Drink this, in remembrance of Tricia, whose blood was arrested in her body and could no longer pump through her heart.
Drink this, in remembrance of Rick, whose blood was overtaken by a virus that was – at the time – a death sentence.
Drink this, in remembrance of my self, whose blood courses still through my veins, a reminder that my life is called to love and protect and nurture and fight for those who cannot and could not…
Amen.
