This is what I received from the Lord, and in turn passed on to you: that on the same night that he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took some bread, and thanked God for it and broke it, and he said, ‘This is my body, which is for you; do this as a memorial of me.’ In the same way he took the cup after supper, and said, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Whenever you drink it, do this as a memorial of me.’ Until the Lord comes, therefore, every time you eat this bread and drink this cup, you are proclaiming his death.
The Last Supper. How grievous, how miraculous. We receive on our palms and on our tongues the Presence of Christ. At every Mass we celebrate what He did for all of us throughout the ages and the ages to come. His body, a piece of bread transubstantiated, the size of a rose petal between my fingers. His blood, from wine, I raise to my lips. To receive this Body and Blood of Christ into our deepest being, on levels below articulation, is to beg for our transformations into servants of Christ: is to behold a great mystery, opening wide a door ajar to catch a glimpse of His divinity; to share in His kingship; to love, in our fallen diminishment, the all abiding love that flows over during this sacrament instituted at a table, among friends and a betrayer, on the eve of His Passion, His greatest gift at such horrific cost.
This Host, this delicate wafer, become the power of God defeating all dominions and principalities of sin and death with humble and obedient and radical love.