Bread of Life
Maundy Thursday I stood behind the table
Proclaiming the words of Jesus
Inviting all to come and eat
Promising all would be filled
We offer a meal where none will leave hungry or wanting
I held the broken loaf–
Its fresh sweet aroma
Tickled my nose and traveled to my core
Oh how I yearned to bury my face in the soft, yellow grain
To stuff myself on the bread of life
To gnaw at the loaf
To devour every morsel.
As the congregation filed forward
I tore pieces from the loaf
Not the small perfect squares
The white, stale cubes that were
served in the pew communion
of my childhood congregation
The crust always neatly removed
The cubes always perfectly even
Perfectly pristine Body of Christ.
What about those of us who are more crust than pristine cubes?
What about those of us who need more than a morselbut yearn for a mouthful?
Is the bread of life only the Body of Christ in perfect squares?
Is it any wonder I want to binge on an abundant grace that I thought only came in measure amounts?