For Holy Communion this morning,
we sanctify our time and many tables
for a sacrament never conﬁned
to sanctuaries or precious surfaces —
carved with “Do this in Remembrance of Me,”
but always following
wherever one of God precious children,
like a sheep astray,
is lost or needs a guiding.
Christ is our shepherd.
In the loneliest lockdown,
we do not want for companionship.
In crowded families —
distance-learning and never catching breath,
we ﬁnd an inner source of still waters.
In the soul-stretching days
of health care and emergency professionals,
decision-makers for others,
and essential workers with daily risk,
we meet a restorer of souls.
In the paths of tight-eousness —
assisted living, correctional facility, shelter,
immigration detention, nursing home,
housing for those who are simply poor —
we ﬁnd a leader, a staﬀ to lean on,
a rod that points a new way.
Christ leads us not around it,
but through the valley of the shadow —
and turns to us, as Jesus did when he came through
the walls of a locked room
in the afternoon of resurrection,
said, “Peace be with you,”
and then asked if they had anything
to give him to eat.
Give the gentle Shepherd who is the Risen Christ
your bread, your cup and your heart.