What little boys do during communion in evangelical churches
is take handfuls of bread and juice when they think nobody is looking
mashing their fists into their mouths so fast
I could have sworn they forgot to eat breakfast that morning.
Their parents scold them quietly under the soft melody of a piano,
and usher them back to their seat, hoping no one else noticed.
I notice, because back in the days when my school week started on Sunday morning,
I too had large appetite and didn’t know how to quench it.
We have all heard the adage, you are what you eat,
and so I took up cannibalistic tendencies and devoured the flesh and blood of the one I called saviour.
hoping that somehow his grace would get stuck in the deepest parts of me.
Today, I am grown up
I attend large dinner parties on the weekend.
Invited to a table that extends far beyond these four walls,
and taking part in a feast I did nothing to earn.
It is more than just a time of remembrance
I am invited to partake in abundance
And welcome it into my life that it might transform me into a better man
that if I just taste Jesus, someday I might look like him too.
So join with me today and break this bread, and drink this wine
but don’t be scared when you start to grow holes in you hands
After all, you are what you eat.