Jesus was made of styrofoam

I had communion for the first time in maybe two years yesterday.  I had forgotten about communion.  Not that the knowledge of the ceremony had vacated my mind, but I had forgotten how purgative...how restorative it could be.  It's one of the few times that I am actually able to tame my erratic, media blown mind to focus on the misery of who I am and the glory of who God is.  It's a big thing for me.  Pride runs through my veins like stretches of Wallace plaid and with it comes a convenient forgetfulness of my flawed state.  Communion demands that you stop and look deep into yourself and ask yourself the questions that make you want to hide from the ebony pall.  

As a Christian I have found I'm still afraid of the dark, it's just that now I have made my own shadows and I'm afraid to look into them.  I am afraid to sift through all of horrific evils I've inflicted on God, on my wife, my family, my friends, the world.  That's what Easter is for, right?  There's an old hymn that's called "Calvary Covered it All" and somehow deep inside, that's Easter and Communion in one package.  The reason that we can join together in this grand experience, or commune, is because Jesus took it all.  It's the reason that when the plates came around with the "body of Christ," styrofoam wafers trying to pass themselves off as unleavened bread, and His "blood," a tiny sip of grape juice sufficient only to make you want more, that I was able to focus on how Jesus made light of my darkness and performed a brutal assault on the filth of my life.  I was able to sit next to someone I that I've never known and probably never will see again and hold hands with them during prayer because we share in the sacrifice of Christ.  This is our communion.