The first day of the week

 He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.

Then their eyes were opened, and they recognised him. Luke 24:30—31

 

Read Acts 20:7—12

To get through to the funny story about the long-winded sermon that nearly killed a boy the narrator has brushed past a give-away detail. I notice that it’s the first day of the week. That equals the breaking of bread. The one means the other. It’s already an embedded tradition, that early in the church’s story. The one, the first day, is the day of Jesus’ resurrection. The other, the breaking of bread, is the normal form in which we meet. It’s breaking bread with one another on the day we celebrate Jesus’ breaking bread with his disciples, alive. Letting them touch him. Proving he was no ghost. ‘Have you anything to eat?’[1] Bread. Bread and fish.[2] ‘Come and have breakfast.’ All so full of fun, amazing fun! I think when I meet with others, next Sunday, at communion, and over a cuppa, whether the sermon’s long-winded or not, and Christ is present, I’ll be pinching myself at the fun of it.

 

Risen Lord, I thank you for the first day of the week. For the special way you gather your body, the church. For my church. For your living presence among us. For sermons. For holy communion. For giving yourself to us in the bread and the cup. For fellowship meals — cuppas and chats and the deepening ties that happen when one prays for another. May my church, more and more, picture for the world the banquet of the kingdom to come.

[1] Luke 24:37—43

[2] John 21:9—12