[T]hat is what we can cling to, as war rages on and death continues around us, we can cling to real presence: in bread and the cup, in each other. In our second reading today, Paul reminds us that “as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.” We proclaim that Christ is present, living and dying in each person affected by war, poverty, racism, and violence. And we lament this. We proclaim our own complicity in this senseless sin. But, as we accept the grace of Christ’s body in our Eucharist, we do not let sin get the final say. What an absurd faith we have – a faith that proclaims the transformation of such simple bread and wine into an expansive mystery of darkness, death, grace, and gift. A faith that God is present in our food – that God is present in us.
And so, in the face of darkness, we can remember these mysteries. We can continue to offer the little bit that we are able to – food for the hungry, clothing for the naked, a listening ear for a friend who is struggling, forgiveness to a neighbor – corporal and spiritual works of mercy. Sometimes all we can offer is presence – the proclamation that we are here. We can sit beside a friend who is suffering, we can continue to offer prayers for those affected by violence, near and far. We can continue to show up, and when this presence might feel meaningless and hopeless, we can remember this story where Jesus took the little bit that we could offer and filled the gap, multiplying it into more than enough. We proclaim that Jesus can transform even death and darkness. We can cling to the hope that Jesus can do so again. This is our faith. How absurd. How beautiful.
--Jenny Weirtel
Image source: Fritz Eichenberg, The Lord’s Supper, https://malmstromramonat.wordpress.com/2016/12/02/encountering-the-holy-trinity-of-artists-beginning-the-research-process/
Quotation source
No comments:
Post a Comment