We celebrated the Lord's Supper yesterday morning. Adam makes the communion bread, a simple cracker, and bakes it on Sunday morning. Before we drove to church, I broke them apart.
I do not know why this struck me this morning. The supper is so precious to me -- that Jesus would give us something so utterly human, eating!, and bind it inextricably to himself, and make it a holy act, so holy that non-believers are warned not to touch or taste lest they condemn themselves in so doing. But someone, somewhere, in some kitchen, must bake the bread. Someone, somewhere must pick the grapes, crush them, bottle the wine or juice. There is a simplicity and a common humanity to it that is so like Jesus himself, to all appearances a simple, humble man with a holy, eternal task.
Take and eat.