In his darkest hour, Jesus gives his disciples a meal to share, reminding them that he is among them as one who serves. It is such a fragile and yet enduring gift. I’m reminded of a poem from Jan Sutch Pickard of the Iona Community:
Carrying a candle
from one little place of shelter
is an act of love.
To move through the huge
and hungry darkness, step by step,
against the invisible wind
that blows for ever around the world,
carrying a candle,
is an act of foolhardy hope.
Surely it will blow out:
the wind is contemptuous,
the darkness cannot comprehend it.
How much light can this tiny flame shed
on all the great issues of the day?
It is as helpless as a newborn child.
Look how the human hand,
that cradles it, has become translucent:
fragile and beautiful; foolish and loving.
Step by step.
The wind is stronger than this hand,
and the darkness infinite
around this tiny here-and-now flame
that wavers, but keeps burning:
carried with such care
through an uncaring world
from one little place of shelter to another.
An act of love.
The light shines in the darkness
and the darkness can never put it out.