Let's Break Bread Together

Breaking bread (no...not breaking bad) is not a commonly used phrase. No one really asks me to come break bread with them. But this phrase means more to me than sharing a meal.

It can hold so many different meanings for so many different people. I believe that breaking bread stems out of a desire for community. It is an offspring of God's goodness in our lives. I believe that breaking bread can look different and I love exploring, experiencing, and hosting opportunities to break bread with people. The whole concept makes me smile ear-to-ear and I relish such a beautiful concept.

My most recent experience with hospitality took place this past Saturday. Grant and I hosted a Valentine's Dinner Party.  Breaking bread with people you love is so sacred and intimate.

Dining Table Setting. I'm obsessed with these gold chargers!

You might be thinking that sacred and intimate are odd word choices to describe a dinner party. I get it. But consider this...

Breaking bread is a timeless activity in which hundreds (thousands? millions?...how old is our Earth? I swear I was never taught science. sigh. judge away) of generations participated. Can't you picture Jesus pouring wine for disciples at dinner? Can't you smell the food that women prepared in the kitchen (Probably ignore the body odor that was also flowing into the scene. I don't think they had our idea of hygiene. This is selective sensory imagination time). Odd sense recall aside, such a lasting act becomes sacred.

There must be a captivating story happening right here...

I love that the tradition of creating a meal and then inviting neighbors to join, is timeless.

Intimate comes to mind for a couple of reasons:

1) breaking bread with friends and family is an invitation to slow down. I think when we put time and energy into the food and environment we are in, we are more likely to pause. and appreciate.



2) breaking bread is an easier-to-accept-invitation for real conversation. There is something about sitting around the table and sharing a meal that invites us to converse over topics that really matter and truly share our hearts and lives with one another. What is more intimate than sharing our personal joys and struggles? (And doing it while you are chewing. I hear true intimacy is created when you talk and chew at the same time! Ya, let me see that spit-filled pork. mhmm)



3) breaking bread creates vulnerability. Come to my home. Eat my home-cooked meal. Let's live life together. I actually love this type of vulnerability, yet I still have a piece of me that worries about my cooking not being good enough or not having enough to say. You can fill in the blank for that statement, because people have different worries, but moving past them is key to truly living life together. (I have to admit- some of the "my cooking won't be good" worry is self-inflicted because I always seem to make the interesting choice of trying a new recipe the night we have company....so...there's that. I will choose to believe that I work well under pressure and like high stakes.  Let's just call it a bold choice of trying a new recipe rather than an interesting one. Yup, bold, that's it!) 



4) breaking bread is messy. Both figuratively and literally. You have people over and the pork is done too soon so you have to keep it warm, but the candles aren't lit, and the welcome drinks you were so excited about are not poured yet. Oh ya, and the champagne popped in the fridge and is running down all of the shelves and across the kitchen floor. And there goes the timer and the doorbell. Acutally, surprisingly, all of that happened on Saturday and none of it stressed me out (yesssss people, progress!). You want more literal mess examples- after cleaning up, I now know the messiest eaters of the bunch and who had their own hair land on their plate. :)

a sign of a great night= lots of mess

Thinking back to some of my most poignant memories of experiencing hospitality reminds me of how different it can look. In middle school, I can remember loving going over to a particular friend's house. It wasn't because it was the biggest or nicest home. It wasn't because the family had everything together. It wasn't because it was the most convenient or the cleanest or anything special, really. But everything about the experience was inviting and safe and welcoming.You could be yourself and make yourself at home.

 

Breaking bread with girls in my Gospel Community group gave way to such beautiful and real conversation.

Nothing fancy about this breaking bread, but it sure was nifty to get together with my cousin and her husband.

I love that hospitality does not mean that you need to have it all together. I love that breaking bread together can be messy. I love that sometimes it means you offer people drinks and sometimes it means they go to your cabinet without asking and pour themselves wine.


Some books that shape the way I feel about hospitality are below:



Bread and Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes


Around the Table
 
Community: Taking Your Small Group Off Life Support (actually about to read it. maybe more to come?)

I would love to hear about other good reads :) Send 'em on over.