The readings and the solemnity itself speak of the living bread, the Body of Christ; the bread of eternal life and the church in which the many baptized come together as one to share that bread. This day should also awaken a hunger for God.

I’ve got a wooden box that once belonged to a friend of mine. When this friend died, this beautifully carved box became mine. I wasn’t sure at first, but gradually its new purpose has become clear. It has become my memory box.

“I am the Bread—living Bread!—who came down out of heaven. Anyone who eats this Bread will live—and forever! The Bread that I present to the world so that it can eat and live is myself, this flesh-and-blood self.”

I never thought I’d give up the Eucharist for Lent. 

When I was 15, my mother would go crazy if she found me staring for long stretches into an open refrigerator. I knew I was hungry, but I wasn’t sure for what. I’m sure that the disquieting changes going on in my adolescent self prompted a hunger I couldn’t quite satisfy.

I used to love having pancakes for breakfast—whether homemade or hot from the kitchen of some breakfast spot where I’d order extra maple syrup, hash browns, crisp bacon, and fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Every year at the First Communion liturgy, I would bring out the old studio portrait of my First Communion. I am seated on a stool in my new suit holding a rosary and my prayer book. My eyes are downcast as though I were in deep prayer.

It is in remembering our relationship to God that we keep our faith alive. We look to the renewal of that relationship.

As this broken bread, scattered on the mountains, was gathered to be one, may your church be assembled in the same way from the ends of the earth into your kingdom.