Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me (Jn. 6:51, 53-57).
Living words . . . now, living bread . . .
And just so they would not forget, Jesus adds this important instruction . . .
Do this in memory of me (Cf. Lk. 22:19; 1 Cor. 11:24).
Do this.
This.
The enormity of the this sometimes eludes us in the moment—we can only see its true significance in the retelling, or the recounting of memory. In this way, truths are burned into the memories of those whose lives give witness to them.
Long after Jesus was gone, they remembered him. Not just with memories, but with lives propelled by the power of those memories. Jesus' disciples bore witness to him in their very persons, by words and deeds. They also left written accounts and prayed for us like he did.
Long after they were gone, we still remember him.
Do you have "a Jesus moment" you can point to?
Is there something recent, or from your past, that still drips with grace?
Will you bear witness to it, in memory of him?
What will you do, in memory of him?
This week, this Holy Week, the Triduum passes over to Easter within the collective memory of the Church.
Look for it. Receive it.
And when you experience such a moment, dare to share it.
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In