One Bite of Bread Can Save A Life

March 20, 2009

The photo to the right (unless you receive my posts in email then who knows where the image is dropped!) shows all the solid food I consume in one week. Seriously. That’s it.

For the few of you who follow my rather sporadic blog, Fasting for a Change, you know that for the past ten weeks I’ve been on a liquid fast. Let me run that by you again. For 70 days I have consumed nothing beyond water, the occasional skim milk latte, and 5 protein supplement drinks a day. Nothing else. No. Thing.

With one exception. Every Sunday I have one bite of bread and a sip of wine. The pastor knows I’m fasting and communion is my only ‘meal’  so the pastor and I have a deal off the books, that being I get a slightly larger hunk of bread slipped into my open waiting palm than the rest of the food-consuming parishioners. I regret to report that despite my earnest petitions I’ve yet to negotiate a deal where the sacrament of communion has been expanded to include butter and jam though there’s a good chance I’ll eventually wear him down. I can be relentless, a skill that was honed as the baby of my family.

Here’s the thing. This past Sunday, for whatever reason, that one morsel of bread knocked me out. What I mean to say is it was the most deliciously sweet and satisfying bite of bread I’ve ever eaten. I was so happy I nearly cried and no, I’m not exaggerating. I almost wept because of the sweet doughy taste and the simple joy of having something in my mouth I could actually chew instead of drink. And believe it or not, that one bite of bread has stayed with me all week. I find satisfaction in remembering it even as I look ahead to the next bite of bread that will be pressed into my palm this coming Sunday. Communion has always been the highlight of my spiritual life. No matter what condition I am when I walk to the table, no matter how much spiritual hunger gnaws within me, the symbolic reminder of the love, grace, and mercy of God through Christ held within the loaf and cup is more than enough to fill me body, soul, and spirit. In seasons of spiritual drought and despair the bread and cup have been my lifeline and carried me through.

As I drove home on Sunday with the lingering sweet memory of my experience at the table my thoughts turned to those queer folks who are dying of spiritual and emotional starvation from living in a world filled with violence and harassment directed at sexual minorities, savage beatings and killing of transgendered men and women, the physical and sexual assaults of gay men and lesbians, the criminalization and persecution of homosexuality worldwide, and the relentless political and religious opposition toward any steps toward full equality and protection for GLBTQ people. Not a single day passes in the life of a queer youth or adult that’s completely free from encountering homophobic rhetoric and actions that deplete and starve the soul. Combine all this with what’s happening in their personal lives at any moment. Countless GLBTQ people have lost relationship with their families, some have been abandoned by their closest friends, and others have lost custody of young children on the prejudicial whim of a family court judge. GLBTQ Christians, Jews and Muslims have been rejected and kicked out of their faith communities and gay clergy have been removed from their pulpits and defrocked from ministry. Queer youth and transgendered youth have been disowned by their parents and send out into the world to fend for themselves or sent against their will to places promising to get the gay in them cured.

Right now someone is starving for a word of hope. They long for an oasis in a wasteland of homophobia and intolerance. They’re famished for just a morsel of understanding and a sip of compassion. As I write these words and you read them someone is so wounded and broken by all they’ve seen, heard, and suffered in their life that they don’t know how much more they can endure. They’re depleted and feel as though they’ve reached the end.

But here we are. You and I. We have been given the chance to be the bread and cup for those who are starving. Each of our lives are a bite of bread from the loaf and a drop of wine from the cup. We come out of the closet. We proclaim God’s love loudly. We live our lives boldly. We affirm our wholeness joyfully. We refuse to settle for the scraps on the floor. And each time we do, each time we speak and hope and dream and work and pray and dance and march and sing and advocate and love we become that one sweet taste of bread, that one delicious sip of wine that gives another person enough strength to take up to another day. Never minimize the power of your faith and life to rescue someone else from despair. Never pass up on the chance to offer encourgment and hope. Resist the urge to minimize the impact of your story. Declare truth and justice in those places that welcome it and especially those that don’t. In the day to day of life, just live fully into who you are fed of the One who loves you more than words can ever say.

Let your life be the banquet of God.

Be the bread. Be the cup.

Feed the hungry.

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Posted in Christian Living and Faith, SnapShot Reflections