One of the blessings of being a priest is the weekly celebration of the eucharist. This is not just a route action, be a symbolic re-enactment of Christ’s atoning sacrifice for us. Occasionally, I am struck by the elements and the symbolism they hold, often unexpectedly.
One Sunday, it seemed to me in the moment of placing the bread in my mouth that chewing seemed a harsh treatment for a representation of the the body of our Lord. I decided to break the wafer with my tongue and was convicted by the Spirit that this “gentle” way, with my tongue, was often a vehicle for my sin, which made Jesus’ death necessary.
More recently, I have been moved by the sounds of the breaking of the large “priest’s host” during service.
The snap of the wafer echoes,
The fall of a hammer upon the nails,
The crack of the whip upon flesh,
The sacrifice that saved us echoes,
In the bread of which he said,
This is my body, broken for you.