Merely Bones and Blood
Communion and the Courage to Be Exposed
[I’ve been reading and re-reading Luke’s account of the last supper. I turned to it after having a really emotional moment recently. My pastor said something about communion bread and wine that sparked a flash of a visceral image in my mind. It’s hard to explain. Here’s what I wrote to try to process it.]
Exposed.
Take this bread. All of you. And eat it. This is my body, broken for you.
Fragile bones and skin. Raw in front of you.
Remember me.
Decimated. Obliterated.
Drink from this cup. It represents a new promise. To each other. A simple one. As human and vulnerable as the blood running through us all.
Blood that courses millimeters from the cold air of death. Just inside our fragile, thin layer of flesh.
Remember me.
I don’t come to you as a king. I don’t come to you as a divine hero. I am opened. I am vulnerable. I am destroyed in front of you.
I am human.
Remember me.
I am God embodied.
Remember me.
I am among you. I am you. I am weak and tired. I am aching. I am unfinished.
Remember me.
Tear away the lies you’ve placed upon me. Peel back the false narratives of perfection and power. Strip me bare.
Expose me fully.
A beating heart inside a frail cage of bones. Is this not enough? You expect some armor. You expect some shield. You expect some weapon you can use. But here I offer merely bones and blood.
And among the corpuscles flowing dark and red: Truth.
And within the marrow: Love.
Not cheap outlines of these overused words. The deep essence. The profound weight. The rich density. The very thing you’re looking for is there, in our common frailty.
Take this bread. Eat it.
Take this wine. Drink it.
Remember me. Remember my inability and unwillingness to pursue a shallow victory. Remember me kneeling. Remember me crying. Remember me uncertain. Remember me opening myself up completely.
Exposed before you.
This is it. This is our invitation to choose, right now, how we will show up for each other. This is the image I leave with you.
Salvation won’t sweep you away. It will expose you. Salvation won’t rescue you. It will undo you. You’ll be left tearfully witnessing the beating hearts and exposed rib cages of those around you only because you were brave enough to reveal your own.
Remember me. Despite the discomfort.
Remember me. In every face. That is the bread.
Remember me . In every shared moment. That is the cup.
Remember me.
QUESTIONS FOR CONTEMPLATION & DISCUSSION
1. What images come to mind when you hear “This is my body”? Power… or vulnerability?
2. Where in your life are you tempted to wear armor instead of offering honesty?
3. What would it mean to see communion not as ritual, but as invitation?
4. How might salvation look different if it is about exposure rather than escape?