Last Sunday (the Sunday before Easter) our pastor mentioned something about communion "next week". Since we're doing church over Zoom, he said to make sure we have some bread and juice at the ready.
Friday (Good Friday), I had forgotten about the service, so suddenly I looked up at the clock and it's 7:15 oh no run upstairs, start the Zoom, okay, we're listening to a prayer, great.
The pastor says okay now get out your bread.
Oh no. I assumed we'd be doing communion on Sunday. Our church always does the communion on Sunday. I had bread and juice coming via delivery on Saturday, so I thought I was good to go. But I had forgotten that in the actual narrative of The Last Supper, that's when the communion is done, and of course it is on Good Friday.
I know there is no bread in the house but I rush to the kitchen. No bread, but we had Dominos delivered earlier today. I grab a pizza crust. The body of Jesus, broken for you.
I know there is no juice. Or milk. Or anything that is not water, but I opened the fridge door, and there is a little bit of Gatorade. The blood of Jesus, shed for the remission of your sins.
Forgive me Father.
I broke the bread, and passed the cup among my family. And that's how Good Friday went this year.