day thirty-eight: daily bread

The bag reads, "Handcrafted every day!"

Our organic grape juice and locally-made artisan bread for communion
(And I realize how pretentious that sounds. There's just no other way to say it.)

It is (quite literally) "daily bread" (Matt 6:11). And this day - Maundy Thursday in the Christian calendar, when Jesus shared his Last Supper with his disciples - it is his body, broken.

Suzy and I were planning on making bread for our church's Maundy Thursday communion service, but when she woke up sick, that plan went out the window. Instead, her mom picked us up two loaves of whole wheat Great Harvest Bread Company, a local business that makes fresh bread every day.

Talk about ordinary communion.
Pre-service, it sits in the staff kitchenette next to the coffeepot, sodas, and sugar packets.

I can't say that this benefitted anyone greatly. In fact, other than the staff of the church, I don't even think anyone knew that Suzy and I provided the elements and that they were fresh, organic, and locally-made.

I rarely (if ever) think about how what I eat impacts someone else. It's me eating it, right? It only really affects me...right?

But how does my buying a sourdough loaf from Publix affect some worker in a factory somewhere that packages that bread? Or if I buy Ocean Spray grape juice cocktail, what does that do to small-business grape farmers who aren't owned by the Ocean Spray corporation?

I know it sounds like a bit of a stretch, but it's true. In many ways what I buy to eat impacts those who sell the food, produce it, and grow it. What I buy to eat even impacts the environment. How foods are grown/produced can be ecologically harmful (i.e. pesticides, growth hormones, greenhouse gas emissions from livestock, etc.) or helpful (i.e. sustainable agriculture).

So as we shared in communion tonight, I thought about everything that went into this bread. There were bakers who made the dough and baked it. There were farmers who cultivated and harvested the wheat. The soil in which the crop grew had to be rich in nutrients. The rain had to fall on the fields, not in excess but not too little, either. The sun had to shine on the young wheat plant, giving its energy for photosynthesis.

Tonight, as we partook of a simple meal - an ordinary communion - I gave thanks for all of these, and for the goodness of God's creation that offers such riches to us.*

The words we so often just gloss over meant a little more today...
"Then he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them..." (Luke 22:19).

Gratitude and giving, thankfulness and sharing. When we are grateful for the bread we have been given for today, it is easier to share it with others. That's what we do at the Lord's Supper: we give thanks, and we share.

And maybe one day, if we all share our "daily bread" with one another, no one will need to worry about where tomorrow's bread will come from.

*These thoughts came from my reading today of Brian McLaren's Naked Spirituality, chs. 6 and 7.