There’s no bread.
The bakers have gone into hiding.
The seats at the table are empty.
The Twelve are marching with the thousands.
The streets are filled with a new song.
Only Judas sits at Target Plaza, counting his silver,
while Pontius Pilate issues a carefully-worded statement.
Meanwhile the centurions have quotas to fill.
But out on the streets there’s a Communion.
Jesus takes the city in his hands and says,
“This is my body, broken for you.”

Rob Hardy
2nd February, 2026