Tonight again we celebrated communion. On this retreat it will be a daily experience. How I long to make it more often at home. With the taste of the body and the blood lingering in my mouth, I wondered the grounds at Mater Dolorosa. I stood at a crucifix at the end of the hall. Jesus was at my level and almost my size. He looked to heaven, his "why" frozen on his lips. I could have embraced him had he not been cross bound.
I then made my way around the way of the cross, a pathway marking Jesus' walk to Golgotha. The stations of the cross were vignettes of statues. When Jesus fell, and lay under the soldiers blows or lay across the cross beam the half driven nail in his wrist, the soldiers hammer raised, I sorrowed for him. The taste of his bread and wine returned to my senses. I caressed his suffering face. I remembered him. I took him in. He became a member of me again, or rather I was re-membered as a part of his body.
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