In the Baking of the Bread

Our church is having a Maundy Thursday dinner and service this evening. As part of that, we will have communion. I was asked to bake the bread for the service. I've mentioned before how amazed I am that God would take something as ordinary as baking bread and turn it into a gift -- a gift for me and a gift of service to the church.

This week, though, I learned some lessons in the baking of the bread.

I needed to bake three loaves. The recipe I'm routinely using results in two loaves, so I needed two batches. I had the bright idea to try to do two batches at once -- doubling the recipe. What I learned from doing this is NOT to do it. First of all, our mixer didn't like it. As the dough formed, it crept up the dough hook, and got twisted around the connection that the hook has with the mixer. A little bit of grease from the connection got mixed into the dough (Don't worry, JMer's, I threw that part away). I also learned that I cannot knead a double batch - it's too big. My lesson? Don't take on too much ministry at once. We aren't made to do that. Know your limits. One batch at a time.

The dough for all four loaves raised well, was formed into loaves, and put in the fridge for its second rising overnight. The next evening, I baked. Our oven is small, and having learned my lesson about knowing my limits, I only baked two loaves at a time. The first two loaves were beautiful. I put the second two loaves in the oven and headed downstairs, thinking that I would remember to come back up at the proper time, and remove the loaves from the oven.

You don't need me to tell you what happened next. Very dark, hard bread. Some might call it burnt bread (although it wasn't quite black -- not yet). Certainly it wasn't bread that could be used for communion.

These two loaves of bread were as hard as rocks. That's what happens when you forget Jesus' command on Maundy Thursday to love one another. When we neglect each other, or our ministry, the result is hard and unusable.

Or so we think. Curious, I broke this bread. It wasn't easy. The crust was hard to break. But inside was perfectly good bread. Soft. White. Bread. Sometimes what or who we judge to be hard and crusty -- unusable in ministry -- is really warm and soft inside, if we take the time to look. I was going throw this bread away, but I'm thinking now that there is something that I can do with it that would be useful -- bread crumbs? Bread pudding?

Last night, still needing more bread, I made another batch. This morning I baked it. With the attention the bread needed, it came out perfectly.

Well, mainly perfectly. Not every loaf is picture perfect, but God doesn't need us to look as beautiful as bread in a painting. We all have our imperfections, just as my bread does. Even so, this bread is destined to be used as a means of grace, and it will be the main course on God's table tonight -- a lesson in love from God to us. Hopefully, we will all learn of God's love for us in the breaking of the bread.

Images: First, broken, rock-hard bread and next, communion bread.