He was old, tired and sweaty,
Pushing his hand made cart down the alley,
Stopping now and then to poke around in
Somebody’s garbage.

I wanted to tell him about Eucharist,
But the look in his eyes,
The despair on his face,
The hopelessness at somebody else’s
Life in his cart, told me to forget it.
So I smiled, said, “Hi!” and gave him Eucharist

A woman lived alone; her husband dead,
Her family gone, and she talked at you,
Not to you. Words, endless words, spewed out.
So I listened, and gave her Eucharist.

I laughed at myself, and told myself,
“You with all your sin, all your selfishness,
I forgive you, I accept you, I love you.”
It’s nice and so necessary, too…to
Give yourself Eucharist.

My God, when will we learn
You cannot talk Eucharist …
Cannot philosophize about it…
You Do It. You don’t dogmatize Eucharist.
Sometimes you laugh it, sometimes you cry it,
Often you sing it.

You see Eucharist in another’s eyes;
Give it in another’s hand held tight;
Squeeze it with an embrace.

You pause Eucharist in the middle of a busy day;
Speak Eucharist with a million things to do,
And a person who wants to talk.
For Eucharist is as simple…as being on time,
And as profound as sympathy.
I give you my supper.
I give you my sustenance.
I give you my life.
I give you me.
I give you Eucharist.