Bread: 26 July 2009

Dear Friends,

As a child, I spent a great deal of time “out in the country” at grandma and grandpa’s house, particularly during the summer months. Back in those days it was pretty common for Saturday to be designated as baking day. Grandma spent the morning whipping up tasty treats like pies, cakes, sweet rolls and, of course, big batches of bread dough. She baked white and rye bread every Saturday – enough to last all week. The mouth-watering aroma of bread baking in the oven filled the whole house and we had a really hard time waiting for that first slice of buttered freshly baked bread. Grandma’s caraway rye bread was my all time favorite. One day when I was around eleven years old, I asked grandma if I could help her make the rye bread. Grandma added and mixed all the ingredients and my job was to knead the dough and eventually shape it into loaves, of course under her close supervision. And, as usual, that first slice of freshly baked bread was so yummy. When we had the kitchen all cleaned up, I asked grandma if she would write down her recipe for rye bread so I could make some at home. Now, grandma was the sort of baker who didn’t use a written recipe, adding “some” of this and a “pinch” of that, so my request had her scratching her head searching for a way to tell me the amounts of each ingredient she used. Then she hit on an idea, pulled out one of her old church cookbooks, found a recipe for rye bread and let me take the cookbook home with me.

The following Saturday, with all the ingredients spread out on the kitchen counter, I proceeded to measure and add the ingredients until… There was one thing about the recipe I just didn’t understand. It called for “5¢ worth of yeast”. In panic mode, I got on the phone and asked grandma “How much is 5¢ worth of yeast???" She laughed for a long time and finally told me to use “half of a small cake of yeast” (back in those days there was no such thing as dry yeast). My first solo attempt at making rye bread was fairly successful – not as good as grandma’s bread and the loaf turned out a little lopsided, but that familiar mouth-watering aroma while baking was there and…it was actually edible. That evening I proudly placed a plate of the bread I baked on the supper table and shared it with my family. There’s something about bread that satisfies – making it, smelling it baking, sharing it…

And “Jesus took the (five) loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those (the five thousand) who were reclining” (John 6:11). In the blessing, breaking and sharing of bread, and himself, the people were filled - satisfied. Just as Jesus was blessed (as the son of the Most High), broken (rejected, condemned, crucified), and shared himself and his message of love and compassion, are we not also in our own human and unique ways to be living examples of bread? Are we not all blessed as wonderfully made in the image of our Sacred Creator? Who among us has not had life experiences that caused us to feel broken – both through circumstances that happen to us and our intentional choices to let go our egos and own comfort for the sake of another? Do we not also have a responsibility to share of ourselves, our blessings and talents, so that friend and stranger alike can be fed and satisfied – perhaps not with actual food but certainly with the rich nourishment of our care, love, and compassion?

Being bread can make all the difference in the world.

Peace on the Journey