the body of christ (corpus christi)
ὁ τρώγων μου τὴν σάρκα καὶ πίνων μου τὸ αἷμα ἐν ἐμοὶ μένει κἀγὼ ἐν αὐτῷ
whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. (John 6:56)
Today is Corpus Christi, when we ponder the body of Christ as he is present to us when we celebrate the Eucharist.
The reading for the day includes the phrase above, which is intriguing to me because it seems to challenge the way we typically go about the Eucharist. Our celebrations are tidy, respectful, thoughtful, hushed. Moments of deep encounter are expected by many; others feel slightly awkward in the hushed church and worry about spilling the wine or disrupting the silence.
But the word for “eat” in the phrase above – τρώγω (trogo) describes the kind of enthusiastic eating of a hungry animal. Imagine a dog knawing on a bone: teeth bared, mouth wide, getting stuck in for all its worth. Or have you ever seen a tiger at feeding time in a wildlife park? – huge slabs of steak are thrown in to the enclosure and the big cats fall on them, enormous mouths ready, paws grasping at the meat, making growly sounds while they eat noisily and urgently. Do you want a human example? It’s less like eating dainty morsels in an immaculate restaurant, more like of eating ribs al fresco. It’s impossible to eat ribs without opening your mouth in a very unladylike fashion, and getting a bit of juice on your chin. And it’s a kind of eating that is nothing like our tidy, slightly anxious way of trying to swallow a communion wafer or a tiny piece of bread without even chewing it.
So next time you swallow a wafer, imagine this idea behind it: “Those who fall on my presence, clutching at me as if their life depended on it, the ones who are determined to get the very last atom of goodness out of me, the ones who are prepared to look undignified in company and get juice on their chin, the ones who won’t let go until they are really full – those people will remain in me, and I in them.”




When we finally moved away from the Baptist tradition of individual small cubes of bread on a tray to passing a loaf of bread in a basket I remember the minister complaining that people were pulling off little corners of bread instead of tearing off chunks – now I understand why that mattered.
The day I am not practically paralysed with fear about Getting It Wrong when I go for communion will be the day I can follow this thought with abandon. You’d think I’d have got the hang of it now after ~10 years, but no, still worry on a weekly basis about doing something idiotic. Cannot comprehend wild abandon…
Well in our church, we definitely knaw… there’s a huge loaf to be consumed! We got rid of wafers ages ago in our Anglican Church in favour of one loaf = one body. Of course, the chunks are pretty big, and the pressure of swallowing your piece before taking wine is overbearing sometimes!!
Great post, Maggi. We really do need to take communion seriously – a real symbol of how we look to Christ and his sacrifice for us. But even more than that! The continued sign of us clinging to Christ as we remember. Very powerful stuff.
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I remember my relief when at the age of 15, a week before confirmation (which was also the time of admission to Holy Supper in my church back then), I discovered that unlike the majority of the congregation our vicars actually chewed the “bread”. Keeping a straight face while fighting the gag reflex caused by a wafer stuck to the back of my throat was not my idea of an encounter with Jesus. Quite sad that for some people I know receiving communion still comes with a level of anxiety about getting the procedure right.
grease on the chin — an idea with honorable ancestry in Hebrew Scripture indeed! I’m not sure it isn’t constitutive of Shalom!