There is much of the symbolic in the ritual of communion that I appreciate. But for the past few weeks I’ve been reflecting more on how it is a tangible reminder that God physically sustains.
I was thinking about the mystery of what different sects and denominations believe happens to that little meal. And I thought about how, at any rate, my eminently practical body would recognize it as food and break it down to its components to take up whatever morsels of nutrition were available in the bite of bread and sip of wine. In its good working order, my body would create a new cell, augment an old one, and in this way the body and blood of Jesus would become my own body and blood.
How many communion meals have I shared? How many of my molecules, cells, and hemoglobulin structures have a portion of holiness in their construction? And how many more communion meals lay in front of me?
I was thinking yesterday of the particles glimmering from their places all over my body making me over more and more into the body of Jesus. What a gift, that I would be given Jesus to ingest and build with even as I strive daily to resemble him more and more in my soul.