Bread - The Staff of Life

I know a wonderful bakery where hundreds of loaves of fresh bread are baked daily: sour dough, rye, farm, and paisano, to name a few. Seeing them all stacked on the racks is a thing of beauty; and once you bite into any one of them, you are transported to a place of comfort and home.

Bread is often referred to as “the staff of life.” I can understand why. Every country and culture in the world has its particular bread, and bread cuts across all socio-economic groups. Consider the  roots of the word “companion”: com and pan: “the person with whom you break bread.”

In the New Testament, Jesus broke bread with his disciples and directed them to “Take and Eat" of the bread that became representative of his body and his love for them and the world. Bread feeds us all, both body and soul.

The Value and Beauty of Hard, Physical Work

In Marge Pierce’s poem “To Be of Use,” she sings the praises of people who work hard in useful endeavors, who pull their weight and make things happen. I worked in a bakery for the first time over the holidays and saw up close people“who do what has to be done, again and again.” I saw the bakers “move in a common rhythm when the food must come in or the fire be put out.” I came to appreciate more than ever the value and beauty of hard, physical work.

People everywhere are made whole through useful, purposeful, “real” work, the end results of which are made visible through careful focus on the task at hand. That end result is filled with satisfaction and even joy, not only for the maker of the bread but also, of course, for the receiver of the loaves.

What does it mean to be “at home”?

I have been thinking about home during this holiday season.  What does it mean to be “at home”? Of course, there are plenty of clichés that try to answer that question. “Home is where the heart is” is one of the most common answers. I certainly agree that what  turns a house into a home is an emotional component that translates mere bricks and mortar into something heart-felt.  Memories associated with a house can also turn it into a home – as we remember good and special times shared there. The physical space turns into an emotional haven as we conjure up those memories. As I think about home, I also think about homelessness and am reminded of the thousands of people throughout the world who have no houses to turn into homes. Where are they this holiday season, and how can we who have homes help them find theirs?