Leviticus meditations: The blood is the life

I am sore. I am a "hard stick" as they say in the vampire business and the nice people in the bloodmobile outside had to make a couple attempts before I started gushing. Ow.

A bit more than six years ago, the Twin Towers came crashing down to earth and thousands of Americans were desperate to do something so the swarmed the Red Cross to give blood. I sat that one out -- I had given over the summer and was just barely eligible again. Plenty of other people were donating right now (in fact far more was given than could be used so vast quantities ended up getting thrown away) -- I'll wait a few more weeks until the rush has passed and all these folks aren't eligible again yet. It was a perfectly good theory, except that was more than six years ago -- I hadn't had a "donate now!" opportunity staring me in the face, and hadn't bothered to set up an appointment on my own. Six years! How did I let that go on so long? Well, can't change the past. When the Bloodmobile came to the office I signed up.

The blood is the life. Some life has drained out of me. I've had my juice and cookies, and am dutifully sipping a humongo sized herbal tea, but I am definitely not "all there." I'll be fine tomorrow, but I'm definitely feeling the absence today.

Jehovah's Witnesses have tremendous reverence for blood -- and so refuse to donate or accept blood transfusions. I have nothing but respect for their unbelievably costly obedience, but their reasoning is precisely backwards. Blood is holy -- and is there to be shed so that others might live. We gratefully receive life and health from blood that was shed for us, and in joyous response we offer ourselves as the Body of Christ to be broken and poured out for the world.

Rarely do we get to live that out quite so literally.