My point is this: it is the very nature of the eucharist, in enacting the drama of Christ, to incorporate an element of the brokenness of the world and the brokenness of human relations into the story of the foundational event of Christian faith precisely because it mirrors the brokenness of Christ himself. To put that another way, let me use the metaphor of the body. Augustine spoke of the Christian community becoming the body of Christ by receiving the body of Christ; when we are offered the Body of Christ in communion we reply ‘Amen’, meaning ‘yes, we are ‘. In the presence of the Body of Christ we become the Body of Christ. The body which is broken for us makes us a body which is also broken; in us, in our lives faithfully enacted before the face of Christ, the story is repeated. But, of course, the story is not of Christ made whole and inviolate. His life and death prepare him for resurrection certainly, but this is a resurrection precisely through misunderstanding and suffering.
It can be nothing less for those who would follow. To become the Body of Christ we also must be broken like Christ. This is a story shot through with a series of interruptions in which the unexpected, the unwanted, the traces of an otherness which threaten to upset and break us, make themselves present. If we would repeat that story by learning through the liturgy to enact its lessons in our lives then we should also remember what it cost the first time.