Crumbs Become

Crumbs Become

(“The two then explained to them what had happened on the road, and how they had recognized the Lord when he broke the bread.” Luke 24:35)

The crust shines amber, simple, steaming, sensual;
the bread once grains, once wheat, once seeds, once wheat again,
awaits the gathered few who have talked the whole road trip long.

The conversations are doubt and wonder,
and long pauses where only the breeze spoke and
opened their hearts.

Sometimes traveling is holy, sometimes it is pilgrimage,
sometimes it is communion, and sometimes it starts as
grief and ends with astonishment. And other times it is
merely the morning commute.

But, recognize it or not, the spaces between us are occupied
by the God who suffers and lives among us. Walking beside
us, stopping between us, days after we thought he was gone
for good.

For our good he suffers, for our hope he slays the monster of death
by his own forbidden way; dying to win. Within the tectonic plates
below our feet and the pulsars exploding above us, outside our perceptions
but closer than the pores on our faces, earth is tied to heaven
in the breaking of the bread.

The day ends slowly, dusk is golden, acquaintances become friends
and extend the invitation to share a meal before separating.
Then the stranger takes the bread like the host of the house,
the weight of dough kneaded by daily labor rests in his hands.
The sun, the earth, the seed, the grain, the ox, the millstone,
the fire and the baker have all conspired to meet at this small table;
an altar in the world.

Breaking it; the aroma fills the room. All is bread once the bread is broken;
salivating, the mouth prepares for ordinary provision.
Blessing it; the necessary response of earth-dwellers who
depend upon heaven.

And in the breaking, the blessing, benediction; in the simple meal
on the earth so full of soil and mud,
we see Christ, our eyes are opened, and crumbs become a
cathedral for those who have seen.