I read each day of some horror
going on somewhere, and I have
a hard time relating, because

there is a barrage of bad news and
I just become immune to the horror,
until I recall, conjure, relive the two

most horrible events I experienced
and then I shudder, flinch, wince
while I sit in the extremely comfort-

table, leather recliner and then I
wonder if I am supposed to relive
those two horrible things which

make me shudder, flinch and wince
when I’m taking communion in
order to experience anamnésis: the

living remembrance of Jesus’ horrific
death in order to more authentically
get now what went on then. Should

I shudder or rejoice or both? I
don’t want to just pop a piece
of bread and a drop of juice

in my mouth and rush off to
coffee hour but at the same
time I don’t want to be morbidly

preoccupied with suffering. And
then I wonder if such anamnesis
over the headlines and at communion

is for me, the victims, the surviv-
ors, Jesus? I want to care but I
don’t want to keep going back there.

And then I think of the comfort of
the recliner and the ottoman
upon which I place my sore leg

and give it all a rest.