In the Breaking of the Bread
Meditation
To be a Christian is, perhaps above all things, to be a person whose life is anchored in the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. Indeed, the Christian life is unintelligible apart from this resurrection. We pray believing that He hears. We weep believing that He cares. We struggle believing that He helps. We live this life, in other words, because we believe that Jesus lives. And the work of such a life—its very meaning—is to bear witness to the reality of this resurrection in who we are and what we do.
This witness expresses itself in an almost infinite number of ways: In the renewal of our minds, in the confession of our mouths, the formation of our bodies, the labor our days, the stewardship of our goods, and the intimacy of our relationships. But curiously, the resurrection narratives in the gospels suggests that one of the most important acts of witness is found in something unexpected: in the breaking of bread. Indeed a careful reading of the resurrection narratives suggests that it is in this context that Christ is, perhaps most especially known.
The gospel of Mark, for example, makes it explicit that Jesus revealed himself to his disciples while “they were reclined at the table.” The gospel of Luke makes this even more explicit in two extraordinary accounts. In the first, Luke tells us that Jesus made himself known to two of his followers “in the breaking of bread.” In the second, as his disciples stand gaping at him in disbelief, Jesus asks them for something to eat and then, when given a fish, he eats it in front of them. Likewise, the gospel of John shows us that Jesus reveals himself to Peter in the context of a meal. Calling Peter to the shore, Jesus tells him to “come and have breakfast.” These are not incidental details; to the contrary, they are critical parts of the story of resurrection. For in them, Jesus demonstrates to all who behold Him that He has come to welcome the wandering, feed the hungry, and fill the empty. In other words, the gospel writers want us to see that the truth about Jesus’ resurrection is perhaps most clearly beheld in the context of the table, in the presence of food.
Exploration
In considering this reality, two important invitations emerge. The first is an invitation to be the guest. In each of these gospel accounts, Jesus invites his people into the fullness of His resurrection life. Every time I read these accounts it strikes me again: Jesus cleans the fish, lights the fire, sets the table, breaks the bread, and invites His people—in hunger, in doubt, in fear, in shame—to come to Him. And He promises that in coming to Him, we will not only find Him in fullness, but also find fullness in Him. This is the first invitation of Easter: the invitation to come from the fasting of Lenten longing and to fill ourselves with the undying bounty of Jesus’ resurrection life.
But the second invitation is the invitation to be the host. For in each of these stories, the disciples, having been gathered in, are also sent out. And as they go, they go not simply as beneficiaries of the resurrection feast, but also as bearers of it. Consider Peter’s encounter with the resurrected Christ in the gospel of John. Having been fed by Jesus from the coals and from the sea, Jesus now sends Peter to go and do likewise, saying to him—not once, but three times—“Feed my sheep.” And as the story of the church of the risen Christ unfolds, we see that this is exactly what Jesus’ disciples do. They provide food for the hungry, contend for table fellowship between enemies, and bear the table of the Lord into the cities of the world. And so do we. We too are called to take on the role of Host in the name and power of the risen Jesus. And there is no better time to do this than the high feast of the Christian year: Easter.
So this season, as you celebrate Easter, celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, give renewed and delighted attention to the table. Hold your ingredients with joy. Prepare them with care. Offer them with thanks. Pass them with generosity. And taste them with hope. They bear witness to the fullness to come. For as you do, you—and those with you—will encounter the very risen Christ in the breaking of the bread.
Gregory Thompson (PhD, University of Virginia) is a pastor, scholar, artist, and producer whose work focuses on race and equity in the United States. He is the co-creator of Union: The Musical, a soul- and hip-hop-based musical about the 1968 Sanitation Workers’ Strike, and the co-author, with Duke L. Kwon, of Reparations: A Christian Call to Repentance and Repair (Brazos, 2021).