Breaking Bread – A Poem in Honor of our Wednesday Night Live Cooks

Breaking Bread

In Thanksgiving for Nancy, Lucy, and Margaret

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Bread is broken

In an upper room, feet wet from washing

At table with a stranger met on the sad road from Jerusalem to Emmaus

Among Jews and Gentiles in a Centurion’s home

By the glimmering lake with five thousand friends

In a hall called Wilson

Bread is broken

 

French bread rich with butter

And chicken spaghetti, which shouldn’t work, but does

Tortilla chips stacked high on Taco Night

Bread firmly, lovingly embracing hot ham and cheese

Cornbread that settles on the tongue like honey

Topping off the grand champion meatloaf and mac and cheese

Lines out the door for dressing and turkey

 

Bread is broken

 

Through the torn and fragrant edges

Through mouthfuls of meatloaf

Sweet tea poured like wine

Children laugh

Friendships deepen

Families slow down and sit

Free from the wheel of activity

To talk and eat and love

 

Every time, every place, every meal

He is there, as he promised

 

It is said

Blessed are the feet that bring good news

Let it also be said here

Blessed are the hands that make good food

Feeding bodies

Feeding souls

Sharing hospitality in the form of scalloped potatoes and spaghetti casserole

Holy work, done with joy

And we are grateful

Chris Joiner, May 13, 2015

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