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268 pages, Paperback
First published September 10, 2020
I noticed a piece of Communion bread lying on a narrow ledge by the crypt of St. Fortunatus. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of Holy Communion—and especially the Catholic, almost cannibalistic notion that bread not only symbolizes but actually becomes the body of Jesus. However, as a nonbeliever with a degree of basic respect for other people’s beliefs, I’ve never gone so far as taking Communion simply in order to satisfy my curiosity about the taste of the bread.Turns out that because of wheat intolerance the Church has gone over (at least in Rome) to cornflour and water, which is hardly bread!
Now, on the other hand, with the wafer lying there right in front of me, I had an opportunity to taste it without having to deal with priest or congregation; there were no witnesses, apart from the deity and saints in which I didn’t believe, and I didn’t think they would mind, should they exist. To top it off, I was also quite peckish. It doesn’t say anywhere what St. Fortunatus is the patron saint of, but I reckon it’s probably misbehavior and snacking between meals. It turned out that the bread, which stuck to my tongue when I discreetly popped it into my mouth, wasn’t actually bread at all. For the first few seconds it behaved a bit like a dry biscuit, sticking to my tongue, before it went limp and slippery and then dissolved completely. Had this been a restaurant, I would have sent it back.
