They are robed, educated, well-situated,
who offer you the cup,
but they received it from one who is suffering.
Standing at the table saying
“This is my blood” they are quoting
those whose it is.
The peace and comfort are misleading:
on that original night, doom hung over the table;
at Emmaus it was traumatized hearts that came to;
on the beach he shared breakfast
with souls still pulling themselves together.
The bread is broken among those who are not whole;
the cup is poured out in those who are poured out.
This is who he brings to the table with him.
When the Risen comes to us in the Broken
we can’t help but look around
and see the fracture that binds us,
the healings—so many—without which
we ourselves are not healed.
We rise from the table not to glibly praise him
but to find him, to serve him,
at last to heal him.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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