I saw a statue of bagels in the middle of Greenwich Village, with a flower growing in the center. And I wondered if when Jesus said “This is My Body,” if maybe he was holding a bagel.
“This is My Body” the burnt and discarded scraps of your consumption. A Body consumed and forgotten in the haste of the day.
The Resurrection comes, like a flower from the compost, but the body remains, piled high as a testament to the waste of lives consumed by the greed of men.