And then the people come forward to take a morsel of home-baked bread (or a gluten-free cracker) and dip it in grape juice. They are young and they are old, gay and straight, singles and couples, in jeans and T-shirts and chiffony frocks and biz-casual khakis, strappy sandals and flip-flops and killer heels. One tall, blond guy comes to the table barefoot. A mom approaches with her toddler son riding her shoulders. Another mom, a white woman, carries her Asian baby forward. All of them come to eat the body and drink the blood. They write words of thanksgiving on little strips of paper. They
...more
