Tear-able Bread
When I was at Perkins, I took a delightful class called “Introduction to Christian Worship” with Dr. Mark Stamm. And honestly, you don’t really need to know anything about this particular professor to laugh at the story I am about to tell, but it does help to know that he is, from my experience, good-natured, kind, and wise. One of my favorite assignments was writing a letter to our loved ones regarding our desires for worship after our death. I stand by mine which included the sentiment of “I’m dead, do what you want”, but he truly tried to get us to think about how worship matters in every circumstance. I also appreciate that worship was not a spectacle, but a weekly reminder of the good news.
Part of what we did in this class was a section called practicum in which we practiced different parts of the liturgy. Things like how to hold a baby for baptism, because it isn’t the same as how you hold a child in most circumstances or thinking through laying a shroud on a coffin. The whole point of this was to give us a chance to practice things that maybe we hadn’t done before. Like breaking the bread for communion. It was a safe space to be vulnerable, make mistakes, and learn important lessons.
At this point, you may be wondering what I’m building up to. What went so terribly wrong that I feel the need to defend my professor in advance of whatever story I am about to tell… well, it wasn’t that bad. Theologically, yes, it was terrible. Practically it was funny. And morally we’re all in the clear.
You see, having heard a few stories from people about their struggles to break communion bread, we were all warned to bring a loaf of bread to practicum that would break. Dr. Stamm shared with us about having to pre-cut some bread so it would tear in human hands. Or using cantilevered forks to get a split started. There are some breads that just will not work for communion. Crusty sourdough boules are marvelous for dipping into soup or stew, crunchy bread disks are needed for bruschetta, and if you know anything about snack mix, you might agree that Melba toast is the best part of many a snack mix. Different breads for different purposes.
I did not want to use that circle of sweetness, Hawaiian bread. I do not remember why. Maybe it was sold out at my normal grocery store and if I was going to have to pay extra. Maybe I just wanted to try something different. No matter what sent me there, I went to a fancy grocery store, and picked up a loaf of bread I knew you could tear into with your hands. A white chocolate apricot bread. Delicious, not at all nutritious, and easy to tear. No pre-cut knife marks in the bottom of my communion bread, I was going to be able to treat this thing like a phone book in the hands of a professional wrestler.
I also knew that there were going to be leftovers. A friend from an earlier in the week section of practicum had spent the rest of his classes that day asking if we needed Jesus and offering people the leftover bread. I knew that whatever bread I brought, I would be eating or taking home.
On these two counts, I picked absolutely the right bread.
However, the body of Christ does not contain seeds, nuts, chocolate, or apricots. Theologically speaking, the body of Christ is one. The little bits, though tasty for eating, do not fit with the symbolism that the bread embodies for a congregation. You can use whole grain bread because the grains are the parts of the body, but when we ask the Holy Spirit to make these gifts of bread and wine be for us the body of Christ, we don’t want to have to add in an exception. Because we do not think there are exceptions. Universal grace means all people are able to come, freely and willingly, not coerced or forced, to respond to God’s grace so that they may experience salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. That’s the bit that I got wrong by picking that bread and if you know me, you know that “God loves everybody” is pretty central to my core, embedded theology. Dr. Stamm was very nice about it, he really was, but it is something that has stuck with me.
Okay, you’re probably also feeling a bit of bait and switch. We’re nearly to the end and there have been no cookies. If you got here from social media, you were promised thoughts on how oatmeal raisin cookies are superior theologically, maybe. Well, they are not. Just because they contain a grain, oats, and grapes, albeit as raisins, they run into the same problem that the communion bread has- the body of Christ isn’t supposed to have other bits in it. One death, one resurrection, one baptism are sufficient. One bread, one body, one Lord of all. You can’t use oatmeal raisin cookies for communion, even though at a glance they contain both elements of communion and might work in a pinch. If they remind you of communion, that’s great, but it does not make them better than any other cookie.
What makes the best cookie? If it is baked or bought with love. That’s it. That’s my entire opinion. Have I had some really bad cookies? Yes. Have many of them been made with love? Also yes.
When we do things attuned to God’s will, following Christ’s example of love, and guided by the Holy Spirit are those actions things that bring God glory, further the kingdom, and shine bright with the light of Christ? Precisely. So, whatever you do this holiday season, do it with love. You are a part of the body of Christ, a precious child of God. You have a calling and a purpose. May you be a part of the many who make the one in Christ.
