Jesus invited his disciples to break bread with him at the last supper. There at the table, Jesus told them the bread, the bread that had been part of the Passover celebration for centuries, represented his own body, which would shortly be brutally slaughtered for them. In the process of bringing the bread to their lips, they were told it was Jesus’ own flesh they were consuming.
Did some of them balk? Did they hesitate? I might have if I had been there and had my wits about me. What he was saying was too vast to be absorbed.
We, down through the ages, are commanded to continue the bread consuming, wine drinking, person appropriating, life absorbing practice that Jesus initiated (actually consummated) that night.
With the benefit of hindsight, we understand we’re being invited to fully identify with Jesus, to take on his power and his nature, to subject ourselves to whatever change that plenty-potent morsel might initiate in our being, to declare out dependence, and remind ourselves of our victory, through Jesus’ life.
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