Saturday, January 3, 2009

On the Eucharist

Some of his body becomes part of my body. Some of his blood my blood.

Some of it goes through my system and back out again in smelly and vile form.

In this fashion I treat his holy body. Some I allow to mesh with me, some I turn into refuse and excrete.

For this reason I must feast upon him week after week lest I lose him entirely.

It is not what enters the body that is unclean, but that which proceeds from it: Envyings, lies, malicious talk.

Blessings and cursings from the same mouth. This ought not to be.

I am a dog, who leaves his messes for all to see. And when the unbeleiving think of his name, it is my fault that they think of it with contempt, because I have made his body into dungheap. Selah

But you, O Lord, cover over my sins with your blood. You fill me with your Spirit. You pull me from the pit. Praise the Lord of Hosts!

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