God and Nature Fall 2020
The Comfort and Hope of Communion during loss |
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By Ciara Reyes-Ton
Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help. Hebrews 4:14-16 (The Message)
We hastily grabbed what we had at hand, honey wheat bread and orange juice for communion at home. Perhaps we could’ve better planned for Easter Sunday to make the moment more sacred and holy, but somehow I didn’t feel sacrilegious for our choices in substitution. It was all we had, and I knew that God’s grace abounds, especially in unprecedented times like these.
I had been looking forward to communion with more anticipation than usual, mostly because the image of a suffering Christ and the hope of his resurrection was what I needed.
Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help. Hebrews 4:14-16 (The Message)
We hastily grabbed what we had at hand, honey wheat bread and orange juice for communion at home. Perhaps we could’ve better planned for Easter Sunday to make the moment more sacred and holy, but somehow I didn’t feel sacrilegious for our choices in substitution. It was all we had, and I knew that God’s grace abounds, especially in unprecedented times like these.
I had been looking forward to communion with more anticipation than usual, mostly because the image of a suffering Christ and the hope of his resurrection was what I needed.
"As my body healed, I was reminded that by his stripes I had already been made whole." |
A couple of weeks prior, my doctor had diagnosed me with a miscarriage. She assured me that it wasn’t my fault. There was nothing I did to cause it and nothing I could have done differently to prevent it. However, I wasn’t prepared for the way in which having a miscarriage would affect my body soon after hearing this news. Even after the moments of physical pain, my body still showed signs of the loss, and I was told that it could be several weeks before I could expect it to be back to normal again.
As Easter drew near, I found myself pondering Christ’s own suffering and sacrifice and how that enables him to empathize with us during our most difficult and painful moments. As a woman, one wonders about the extent to which he can empathize with the female experience, in terms of the regular biological pain our bodies are subjected to during menstruation, because this—let alone a miscarriage—was something he never had to experience. However, I began to consider that just because Christ never felt exactly what I have doesn't mean he cannot empathize with me.
He bled far more than I ever have on my worst period day. While he never experienced a miscarriage, we don’t know if/how miscarriages affected those he loved. It is not hard to imagine that he would have grieved their loss with them. Where scripture is silent, there is much left untold and room for stories from women like me.
The story of Easter tells of a Christ who did no wrong. There was nothing he did that justified being condemned; there was nothing he could’ve done differently to prevent it. While he knew the end of his story, it was another thing to live through it. I can’t help but think that he too was not prepared for what his body would be subjected to. But he suffered in our stead, and he suffered so we don’t have to suffer alone.
As I bled, I was reminded that he bled for me.
When my body was breaking down, I was reminded that he was broken for me. As my body healed, I was reminded that by his stripes I had already been made whole.
When I partook in communion during the week of Easter, I set my heart on finding comfort in the bread and the drink. His broken and bleeding body would meet mine, and just like his was, I knew mine would be restored.
For those who find themselves nearer to the cross than the empty tomb this season, even after celebrating the hope of the resurrection this past Easter: may we rest in the confident hope the resurrection offers us and find peace. May we take the mercy and accept the help Christ is so ready to give us.
Ciara Reyes-Ton is a biologist, editor, and freelance writer who is passionate about science communication and outreach to diverse audiences, whether that be to the general public, religious communities, or the students she teaches. She has a Ph.D. in Cell & Molecular Biology from the University of Michigan, and is currently a Lecturer in the Biology Department at Belmont University. She has served as Managing Editor for God & Nature magazine and currently is an Editor for the blog Peaceful Science.
As Easter drew near, I found myself pondering Christ’s own suffering and sacrifice and how that enables him to empathize with us during our most difficult and painful moments. As a woman, one wonders about the extent to which he can empathize with the female experience, in terms of the regular biological pain our bodies are subjected to during menstruation, because this—let alone a miscarriage—was something he never had to experience. However, I began to consider that just because Christ never felt exactly what I have doesn't mean he cannot empathize with me.
He bled far more than I ever have on my worst period day. While he never experienced a miscarriage, we don’t know if/how miscarriages affected those he loved. It is not hard to imagine that he would have grieved their loss with them. Where scripture is silent, there is much left untold and room for stories from women like me.
The story of Easter tells of a Christ who did no wrong. There was nothing he did that justified being condemned; there was nothing he could’ve done differently to prevent it. While he knew the end of his story, it was another thing to live through it. I can’t help but think that he too was not prepared for what his body would be subjected to. But he suffered in our stead, and he suffered so we don’t have to suffer alone.
As I bled, I was reminded that he bled for me.
When my body was breaking down, I was reminded that he was broken for me. As my body healed, I was reminded that by his stripes I had already been made whole.
When I partook in communion during the week of Easter, I set my heart on finding comfort in the bread and the drink. His broken and bleeding body would meet mine, and just like his was, I knew mine would be restored.
For those who find themselves nearer to the cross than the empty tomb this season, even after celebrating the hope of the resurrection this past Easter: may we rest in the confident hope the resurrection offers us and find peace. May we take the mercy and accept the help Christ is so ready to give us.
Ciara Reyes-Ton is a biologist, editor, and freelance writer who is passionate about science communication and outreach to diverse audiences, whether that be to the general public, religious communities, or the students she teaches. She has a Ph.D. in Cell & Molecular Biology from the University of Michigan, and is currently a Lecturer in the Biology Department at Belmont University. She has served as Managing Editor for God & Nature magazine and currently is an Editor for the blog Peaceful Science.