Eating bread with Jesus

Letting God speak through the sacred text of creation and the human soul

Hi friends, Colette here.

Growing up in a tradition where the exegesis of scripture was central, my only means to the Divine was to study the Bible. When I felt lost or in pain, I’d run to the Bible to find what I needed from God. I’d memorize scripture to ensure I always had God with me and to be prepared to give an answer for my faith. When I hit a dead end (which was often), I would go to my local Christian bookstore to see what could help. Eventually, the questions piled high enough that I transferred to Bible College to finish my undergrad and ensure I got this whole God-thing right. But God never truly lived outside the pages of scripture. God lived in tradition, in doctrine, and in believing the right things. God never lived in the ether of my imagination, the nuance of art, or, god-forbid, in nature.

Over the past few years, I have been leading a weekly Bible Study at my work for the women in our recovery program. I have enjoyed stepping away from my desk each week and spending time with these ladies. When I first signed up to lead a study, the muscle memory of my upbringing and education kicked into high gear. Even more so, my puffed-up ego was ready to unload on these women all the knowledge I had gained from both my undergrad and my Master’s of Divinity. Yet after a couple of semesters, I began to burn out on the Bible. Because here’s the thing about studying the Bible: you won’t ever truly understand it. Yet our obsession with having all the right answers continues to fuel our intellectual drive to splay God out on a table and label all his parts. This leaves very little room for mystery and gives way to arrogance. I still believe in the importance of studying the Bible, but I also know what is at stake when our faith boils down to a set of rigid tenets. So I stopped teaching the Bible altogether and instead began teaching contemplative practices.

This semester, we have been diving into the contemplative practice of Imaginative Prayer created by St. Ignatius of Loyola. If you are unfamiliar, the practice is as easy as it sounds. We pray by using our imaginations, putting ourselves in the gospel story, letting our imaginations guide us. To begin the practice of Imaginative Prayer, we familiarized ourselves with the passage first. This week was from Matthew 14:22-33, which tells the story of Jesus walking on water and Peter’s doubt. Then we mindfully explore the passage, placing ourselves in the story: hearing the waves of the sea, seeing the expressions on faces, feeling our reaction as the story unfolds. Through this practice, Scripture transforms from an intellectual exercise to something alive with breath and movement.

I sat with the women near the back of the boat sandwiched in between Mary of Magdalene and Mary the Mother of Jesus. [Though the scriptures don’t write the women disciples well, we all know they were there. Anyway.] When the boat made its way across the vast sea, the storm began to pick up and water lapped over the sides. As the men began to row frantically, the women covered the leftovers of loaves and fishes not wanting to spoil their next meal. Women are so practical. Eventually the storm surged along with our fear. Then a figure appeared walking on the water; fear turned into panic. Jesus called out to us and our panic turned into amazement. Peter with his big faith/ego crawled over the side of the boat and began to make his way to Jesus. He didn’t make it far before Jesus had to rescue him. But just as Jesus’ foot touched the wood of the boat, the storm stopped. The sea was once again calm. Jesus made his way back to sit with the women. He sat by me and we made eye contact. I sensed his loving presence and saw a glimpse of playfulness in his eyes. He leaned down and grabbed a piece of bread from one of the sacks, broke it in half and gave me the other piece. For the remainder of the trip, we sat in silence and ate bread.

This image of sitting with Jesus eating bread has stuck with me more than any scripture I’ve studied. It touched a depth I’ve always longed for in all my years of scholarship. This may be dangerous to say, but I’m going to say it anyway: one of the worst things I believe we’ve done is trap God in the scriptures. When we trap God in the text, we can easily manipulate God for our own means. In our reach for knowledge and certainty, we have conveniently evaded the vulnerability that comes with engaging Mystery. But who are we kidding? God is most often found in unexpected places.

We have a saying at Wild Church: there are two sacred texts: scripture and creation. I want to add a third: the sacred text of a human soul, in which the law of love and justice is written. This sacred text of the human soul pours from our imagination into art, poetry, dance, and song. And yet, all these texts are easily dismissed when they are not followed by chapter and verse. We need all the texts, not just one. Together, they tell the story of a benevolent Creator. If I kept Jesus in the scriptures, I would have never had the opportunity to eat bread with him. If we keep God in the text, we may never hear the voice of the Divine in the wind. If we distrust our soul’s desire, then we would never read the words from poets like Chelan Harkin.

The worst thing we ever did
was put God in the sky
out of reach

pulling the divinity
from the leaf,
sifting out the holy from our bones,
insisting God isn’t bursting dazzlement
through everything we’ve made
a hard commitment to see as ordinary,
stripping the sacred from everywhere
to put in a cloud man elsewhere,
prying closeness from your heart.

The worst thing we ever did
was take the dance and the song
out of prayer
made it sit up straight
and cross its legs
removed it of rejoicing
wiped clean its hip sway,
its questions,
its ecstatic yowl,
its tears.

The worst thing we ever did is pretend
God isn’t the easiest thing
in this Universe
available to every soul
in every breath.

by Chelan Harkin

Let God speak.

Release God from the paper and into the air. Feel the Divine among the trees. Open your mouth and sing! Swing your arms, wild and free; dance with Divinity!! May our eyes move from the word to the wood in one fluid motion and see nothing but Love, and endless opportunities to eat bread with Jesus.

Peace and every good,