Our coming Master is long delayed. And the world is torn to pieces in waiting. Violence and hate swell in the hearts of us all and spill into the public square as divisive sloganeering and smug self-righteousness and rivers of blood. Jesus told us we would face this moment. He told us he may not come until the second or third watch of the night, long after our eyes grow heavy with sleep and our hearts weary of hope. But he warned us to endure even then, even now, to keep serving his meal to all the house. He warned us against abandoning our culinary post to thrash about in the revelry of the faithless. Especially for those of us who have known the nourishment of body and blood and tasted the life of the divine table, may we never go searching for more fortified food or more potent drink. Though all the world would neglect this meal, may we remain and be found as servers when the Master suddenly returns.