Thursday, April 5

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Luke 24:28-32

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”

Most of us eat bread, in some form, every day of our lives, or at least every week of our lives. We might have a piece of toast or a bagel in the morning. We might have it on a sandwich at lunch time. We might have croutons on a salad before dinner. Bread is such a common part of our diets that we often simply take it for granted.

The best bread I ever tasted was in Greece, of all places. I was living in Europe the year after I graduated from college and a friend and I decided to backpack from Switzerland to Athens, Greece, just to see the ancient city. After traveling for some 36 hours straight by train and boat we had to walk the last few miles to reach our destination. We were dead tired and very hungry. We didn’t want to spend a lot of money on a restaurant, so we stopped at a little street-side shop and bought a big, fresh baked loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese. We simply tore the loaf in half and ate as we sat on the curb. The bread was incredible! As I munched on the crust and soft bread inside I couldn’t imagine a finer meal! And I think about that experience all these years later almost every time I have that kind of crusty bread.

This story tells of three men, tired and hungry after a two hour walk, sitting down to a meal that included bread. Then one of them reached out to break the bread and when he did the scars on his hands were revealed. While we cannot say for sure what caused Cleopas and his companion to recognize the risen Christ, I think it might have been his hands.

They were strong hands.

They were a carpenter’s hands.

They were hands scarred by the cruelty of Roman spikes.

These were the hands that broke the bread.

These were the hands of Jesus.

Luke tells us that it was as Jesus broke the bread that they recognized him. Perhaps it was indeed because they saw his nail-scarred hands. Perhaps it was the words he used to give thanks for the meal. Perhaps it was something in his voice, or how he broke the bread – we don’t really know. But I believe they remembered him every time they broke and ate bread for the rest of their lives!

We, too, remember him in the breaking of bread. Each time we gather for the celebration we call “communion” we recall these words from Luke’s gospel:

And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you, do this in remembrance of me.” (Luke 22:19)

The bread is to remind us of his body, given over to the Roman cross. The bread is to remind us that he submitted to that cross in love for us; to provide that which we could not provide for ourselves; forgiveness from sin and salvation.

The next time you take bread into your hands; a piece of toast, a sandwich, or a warm, fresh-baked loaf right out of the oven, allow it to remind you of him, the One who is the Bread of Life.

Pastor Brian Coffey