Today we honor the first of the last. The last time Jesus gathered with his friends. The last meal they shared together. The last bread broken and wine poured. The last time simple elements of grain and grape were just that. Grain and Grape. After today, they are forever sacrament. Forever holy.
In my mouth I can taste the bittersweet wine. This day that consecrates a sacrament that has restored me life. And exploded it. This sacrament that tastes like homecoming with an aftertaste of challenge.
This sacrament that I hold so dear; today I remember that for some this table has meant oppression.
I tear my clothes and wail at the violence done in the name of the One that feeds people from this table. The One who came as a Jew. Who lived as Jew. Who died as a Jew. The One who died so the world might live–His name now repurposed as a weapon. Today I remember that the One is not always in the buildings with steeples or those who wear crosses. Sometimes the One is in the camps surrounded by barbed wire.
“Where is God now?”
And I heard a voice within me answer him:
“Where is He? Here He is—He is hanging here on this gallows. . . .” (Elie Weisel, Night)