The Leftover Communion Bread
It had been just bread, but we blessed it and we consecrated it and now it was, for us, the body of Christ – or a symbol of that body, or something in-between. We ate of it with tears of sorrow, joy, emotion, shame, and love. It was beautiful.
And that which was left was left with me. I had two options. I could eat the rest or throw it to the birds. These fit nicely with our theology, I was told. I neither ate the bread nor threw it to the birds.
I was afraid that if I ate it I would eat it wrong. Is it okay to eat the Savior with PB&J? Can I toast the Risen one without offense? I was afraid that I would commit a sacrilege so I didn’t eat the bread.
I was afraid to feed the birds. My neighbors already think I’m nuts. Who is this mighty madman Methodist out feeding the birds with half a loaf of bread? I imagined I would wait till dark and do it in the secret of the night. But, I put it off, and put it off, and put if off some more.
Until one day I came upon the bread. Now stale and moldy, it resembled not the Lord I had known. I forgot all my reasons for not eating the remainder of the bread or for not throwing it to the birds. I only saw the stale, moldy bread.
I only saw my own life. When I was afraid to live in the joy of the life of Christ for fear of what other would say. When I was afraid to tell others that they would think me ridiculous. I watched the tough, green bread and saw not the Christ, but rather – my own life.
And that which was left was left with me. I had two options. I could eat the rest or throw it to the birds. These fit nicely with our theology, I was told. I neither ate the bread nor threw it to the birds.
I was afraid that if I ate it I would eat it wrong. Is it okay to eat the Savior with PB&J? Can I toast the Risen one without offense? I was afraid that I would commit a sacrilege so I didn’t eat the bread.
I was afraid to feed the birds. My neighbors already think I’m nuts. Who is this mighty madman Methodist out feeding the birds with half a loaf of bread? I imagined I would wait till dark and do it in the secret of the night. But, I put it off, and put it off, and put if off some more.
Until one day I came upon the bread. Now stale and moldy, it resembled not the Lord I had known. I forgot all my reasons for not eating the remainder of the bread or for not throwing it to the birds. I only saw the stale, moldy bread.
I only saw my own life. When I was afraid to live in the joy of the life of Christ for fear of what other would say. When I was afraid to tell others that they would think me ridiculous. I watched the tough, green bread and saw not the Christ, but rather – my own life.
posted by Michael Airgood at 2:32 PM
1 Comments:
Thank-you for your perspective on this. Despite being about 30 years your senior, I'm facing the same questions.
I've been making bread for communion for years. Where I lived the pastor simply took care of the leftovers.
I was recently forced to move and am left with today's leftover communion bread.
I need to embrace it. I need to embrace life. I need to embrace Christ - all with respect and reverence. And, I have to do it NOW.
I define worship as the celebration of one's association with a deity.
With daring and humility embrace and celebrate.
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