I was in a baker’s shop enjoying the aromas of all the breads. Enjoyable as they were, I must admit they did not compare with the aroma of bread I had known as a child.
My father grew the wheat and took a sack of it to be milled at the local mill. He watched it being milled then he brought it home and stored it in bins.
My mother made it into crusty, brown bread and the aroma of its cooking penetrated the whole atmosphere.
The modern bread shop could not compare on quality but it was a heaven of invention.
“This,” demonstrated the sale’s girl, “is a pull-apart loaf,” and she pulled it apart revealing cheese, tomato and chive flavourings.
She gave we customers each a taste-piece.
At that point I saw little pieces of broken bread all around me. I saw customers feeding on taste-treats instead of savouring the whole loaf. They were eating just one piece, perhaps the Lord’s Prayer of Matthew, or the marriage ceremony of Corinthians, or the funeral service of the 23rd Psalm.
I saw some who taste-tested all three but there was nothing left over to share.
When Jesus provided the meal he provided a whole meal. There were twelve baskets of food left over. It was the same when he broke open the Scripture. He broke the whole of it open and he shared all there was of himself on the Road to Emmaus.
Think about it: one piece of broken bread is a taste treat but the whole loaf is needed for the full journey.
Lord, our journey is long. Thank you for the whole loaf, crust and all.
Elizabeth Price