There is a story told of a young Jewish boy named Mordecai who refused to go to school. When he was six years old, his mother took him to school, but he cried and protested all he way and , immediately after she left, he ran back home. She brought him back to school and this scenario played itself out for several days. He refused to stay in school. His parents tried to reason with him, arguing that he, like all children, must now go to school. To no avail. His parents then tried the age-old trick of applying bribes and threats. This too had no effect.

Finally, in desperation they went to their rabbi and explained the situation to him. For his part, the rabbi simply said: “If the boy won’t listen to words, bring him to me.” They brought him to the rabbi’s study. The rabbi said not a word. He simply picked up the boy and held him to his heart for a long time. Then, still without a word, he set him down. What words could not accomplish, a silent embrace did . Mordecai not only began willingly to go to school, he went on to become a great scholar and a rabbi.

Words, as we know have significant power. But, in critical situations they often fail us. When this happens, we have still another language, the language of ritual. The most ancient and primal ritual of all is the ritual of physical embrace. It can say and do what words cannot. Jesus acted on this. For most of his ministry, Jesus used words. Through words, he tried to bring us God’s consolation, challenge, and strength. His words, like all words, had a certain power. His words stirred hearts, healed people and brought about change. But even Jesus’ words became inadequate. Something more was needed. So on the night before he died, having exhausted what he could do with words, Jesus went beyond them. He took bread and wine and gave us the Eucharist, his physical embrace, his kiss, a ritual within which he holds us to his heart.

To my mind, that is the best understanding there is of Eucharist. I have taken many long graduate courses on the Eucharist but in the end they did not explain the Eucharist to me, not because they were not good, but because the Eucharist, like an embrace, like a kiss, needs no explanation and has no explanation. The Eucharist is God’s embrace, God’s kiss. Andre Dubos, the Cajun novelist, used to say: “Without the Eucharist, God becomes a monologue”...a one-sided conversation...no interaction...no connection. In Eucharist and in every other Christian sacrament there is some very tangible, physical element to it - a laying on of hands, a consuming of bread and wine, a pouring of water, an anointing with oil...the physical touch of God

G.K. Chesterton once wrote: “There comes a time, usually late in the afternoon, when the litttle child tires of playing policeman and robbers. It is then that he begins to torment the cat!” Mothers, with young children, are only too familiar with this late afternoon hour. There comes an hour, usually just before supper, when a child’s energy level is low, when it is tired and whining, and when the mother has exhausted both her patience and her warnings: “Leave that alone! Don’t do that!” The child, tense and miserable, is clinging to her leg. At that point she knows what to do. She picks up the child. Touch, not word, is what’s needed. In her arms, the child grows calm and tension leaves the child’s body.

That is an image for Eucharist. We are that tense., over-wrought child, perennially tormenting the cat. There comes a point, even with God, when words aren’t enough. God has to pick us up, like a mother her child. Physical embrace is what is needed. Skin needs to be touched. God knows that. That is why Jesus gave us the Eucharist.