The Breaking of Bread

From the day he heard Stephen preach, Barnabas’ spirit had no rest. He knew about the rabbi of Galilee because he’d seen him in the Temple court in a circle of his disciples teaching about the last days shortly before his death. Barnabas wasn’t sure why he remembered this particular rabbi, for one was always hearing teaching on the last days in the Temple courts.

Probably it was because he’d seen this same rabbi just a few days later when Roman soldiers were hounding him through the narrow streets toward Golgotha with clubs in their hands. He knew he’d never forget that horrid scene as long as he lived. The man’s white mantle was soaked in blood and sweat, as he lay prostrate under the heavy cross. Never would he forget the sight of the man struggling to his feet under the blows of the soldiers, or the way he lifted his head with its crown of thorns. His white, bloodless face was ringed by beard and earlocks, and though his lips were knotted in pain, his eyes were filled not with sadness and despair, but rather pity.

Barnabas had felt utter frustration and shame that day. Here he was, hurrying to the Temple to prepare his Passover sacrifice, and forced to witness these brutal Roman soldiers trampling underfoot what Israel held sacred. They were dragging to his death a Jewish rabbi who’d done nothing more than persuade himself that he was Messiah, the hope of Israel. Humiliated and sickened by his own helplessness, Barnabas fled the scene. He rushed to the Temple, hoping to find refuge and renewal of his faith. He thought that in the flame of sacrifice that rose from the altar to heaven was the hope of Israel.

Barnabas sang the verses of the Psalms loudly and exaltedly that day, clinging to God more strongly than ever. He tried to convince himself that someone who was abandoned to the base savagery of the Romans, and dragged through bloody dust, could not possibly be the highest glory. How could the most shamed and humiliated be the supreme Authority?

In the weeks since then Barnabas had seen the rabbi’s disciples on a number of occasions. They came to the Temple courts in groups, sometimes in the morning, but more often in the afternoon. Sometimes one of them would preach a sermon about the wonders their rabbi had performed, of his promise to return to them after his death, and of his fulfillment of that promise. Normally, they were led either by the short bearded Jew named Simon bar Jonah, or by the broad-boned John.


One evening Barnabas decided to follow the disciples to their meeting place. He was amazed at the multitude waiting there. How incredible that in just a few weeks they’d won so many souls. Some of the women were preparing the common meal over brick ovens in the open street. Men arrived carrying baskets of flat cakes. Others brought out their own meals from their wretched dwellings, while still others were preparing meals to be carried away. Most of them belonged to the poor classes of the lower city, but here and there Barnabas recognized some of the prominent members of the Greek-speaking synagogues, although they also wore the clothes of the poor and helped the disciples set the tables for the common meal.

Slowly, and with some difficulty, Barnabas worked his way up to the house. He noticed the woman whom the disciples treated with special honor by greeting her whenever they entered the room. She was an old broken woman seated on a mattress, and was supported by another, younger woman. Her gray hair and half her face were covered by her widow’s veil. There was sorrow and pain in the visible half over her lost son. But in the deep pools of her eyes there was neither anger nor bitterness, but only compassion.

The woman who supported her seemed to have aged suddenly, for her face was young, but her hair was gray. Her skin was alabaster yellow, and her eyes were filled with a gentle, pious light. She was also treated with respect by the disciples.

The great room with the balcony open to the sky was dark and filled with shadows. No lamp was lit. There was silence for a while, so quiet that people’s breathing could be heard. Then Simon rose up, his face and beard hidden in the darkness and only his eyes shining through. He raised his arms and prayed.

“Father in heaven, praise and glory be Yours. You sent Messiah to us, so that he might die for our sins, and You raised him up even as You promised through the prophets. Now send your grace and benediction on us. Open our hearts, that we may receive Your truth, and that the fear of You may live in us. Bring us closer to You, and make us worthy to see his coming in our days. Amen.”

Those who were already members of the congregation surrounded Simon, James, John and the other disciples. Those who were not yet members stood at a distance, and one of them called out, “Tell us, what can we do to be saved in Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth?”

Simon gave the answer. “Repent and be converted, so that your sins may be wiped out. Turn to Jesus, for he has already come as a sacrifice for us and for you, to cleanse us all of our sins and to make us worthy of acceptance into the kingdom of heaven.”

Then John rose and said, “Don’t be weighed down with gold or silver when you enter in. Bring neither fields nor houses nor any earthly goods. Leave your possessions together with your sins on the other side of the threshold before you knock on the door of the kingdom.”

“I had a house and a field. I sold them, and I lay the gold at the disciples’ feet,” said a short, heavy man in a rich garment, as he approached the inner circle.

“No, my son, you had neither house nor field. You came naked from your mother’s womb, and you’ll return naked to the womb of the earth. And when the Lord awakens you to the resurrection, you’ll come with neither house nor field. You will come only with your good deeds, and they will cloth you,” answered Simon.

“I have no house and no field, and I bring only my limbs and my body, and I lay these at the feet of the disciples, that I may be accepted into the bond of Messiah,” said a tall, powerful man known to be a day laborer.

“No, my son, neither your body nor your limbs are yours. You borrowed them from the Creator. Can you make your body whole again when it’s been broken by age or sickness? Nothing is yours, all belongs to the Lord,” said Simon.

“Rabbi, I have nothing at all except my sinful soul, which I lay before Messiah!” cried a lame beggar, who crawled forward supported by another cripple.

“My son, you’ve given more than all the others, for you’ve given what is truly yours,” said Simon, placing his hand on the beggar’s head. “For nothing is yours, except your sins. Your sin is forgiven through the death of the lord.”

So they came, one after another, leaving whatever worldly goods they had at the disciple’s feet. It looked like about 15-20 people were received into the congregation that evening, all of them children of Israel.

Barnabas could see that most of the new converts were poor, some even beggars who lived in Jerusalem. Others had recently arrived as pilgrims and chosen to stay in Jerusalem. But there were also a few who were men of means, who wanted to assure themselves of a part in the resurrection.

Simon approached the newcomers and asked, “Do you believe with perfect faith that Messiah died for your sins, and rose from death after three days, and that he will come with the clouds of heaven, sitting on the right hand of power to judge the tribes of Israel, and that he will restore the Kingdom of Israel and purify the world into the Kingdom of the Almighty?”

The neophytes answered, “We believe with perfect faith.”

The women were asked the same questions as the men, led by Susannah, the mother of the Zebedees.

The sons of Zebedee led the male converts to baptism. The disciples repeated these words, “In the name of the God of Israel and of the Lord of hosts I baptize you in the name of Jesus the Messiah, and I receive you into the holy congregation of his believers.”

Afterwards, the disciples said, “Happy are you who’ve been judged worthy of this privilege. May we see the Ancient of Days come riding on the clouds of heaven to begin the Kingdom of the Almighty on earth.”

The new converts answered, “Amen.”

“You are now our brothers,” exclaimed the other disciples, embracing the newly baptized.

The women of the congregation performed the same ceremony over the women proselytes.

Baptism was common in Jerusalem and generally attracted no special attention. Nevertheless there were a host of witnesses around the pool, mostly from the poor neighborhood.

When everyone returned to the dwelling in the David wall, they were met by the other disciples with a benediction, “Blessed are they who come in the name of God and of the lord Jesus. You are our brothers and sisters in the lord Messiah.”

And the disciples greeted the newcomers with the kiss of brotherhood.

The stars had come out by this time, and the women lit the oil lamps. The disciples, new and old, stood up, turned their faces toward the Temple, and repeated the evening Shema, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.”


After the evening prayer the disciples sat on the stone floor, while others stretched out a long bamboo mattress that served as a table. The leading disciples sat at the head with Mary, who was led to her place on a low stool by Mary Magdalene and Susannah, who then sat at her feet. The other women remained standing at the door behind the curtain, but certain women were allowed to enter, for they carried baskets and pitchers of olives, vegetables, and milk. They placed the containers of food on the table, and the flat cakes of bread were brought to Simon and John. A hollowed gourd with wine, and a cup, were also placed before them.

On this day, Simon was acting as prayer leader. He lifted up the flat cakes and, in a voice that trembled with piety, called out, “Let us pray as our lord Jesus taught us, ‘Our Father, who is in heaven, may Your name be hallowed. May Your kingdom come. May Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Yours is the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever, Amen.”

The congregation answered, “Amen.”

“Furthermore,” Simon continued, “he taught us that the table at which we eat is like an altar, and we are here to bring a sacrifice. Let us therefore bring our daily bread as a sacrifice to God.”

The congregation waited in silence, and Simon continued, “This is how our lord did it when he was here with us. He took the bread and broke it into small pieces, and handed it out to us, saying, ‘Take and eat, this is my body.’ And he took the cup of wine, said a benediction over it, and gave it to us, saying, ‘Drink of it, for this is my blood, the blood of the new covenant, which is shed for the forgiveness of many.’”

So Simon took the bread, broke it into small pieces, and distributed the pieces, saying, “Just as the wheat on many hills has been brought together to make this bread one, even so, our Father in heaven, bring all Your congregation together from all the corners of the world into Your Kingdom, through Your servant, Jesus. Amen.”

The faithful took the fragments of bread and ate.

Then Simon poured wine from the gourd into the cup, and lifted it up, saying, “This is the blood of the new covenant poured out for the sins of many.”

Then he drank from it and passed the cup around for the others to drink. After the men had taken a sip, the cup was passed through the curtain, so the women too could drink of it.

A period of silence was observed while this was going on. Then Simon lifted the wooden bowl, took out two olives, and passed the bowl on. He did this with each bowl of food. Each of the disciples followed his example.

Then Simon said, “Our rabbi taught us that when we sit together to break bread, we should praise and thank God with the songs of David. Let us do so now.”

Another disciple responded, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”

“He leads me beside the green pastures,” chanted the congregation, and when the psalm was ended, there was another period of silence.

Then Simon gave a short message, “Our lord taught us, ‘If you bring your sacrifice to the altar and remember that you’ve quarreled with your brother, leave your sacrifice on the altar and go first to your brother to ask forgiveness. Then return and offer your sacrifice.’ And he further taught us, ‘You’ve heard it said to love your friends and hate your enemies. But I say, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.’”

“And something more he taught us," called out John. “Don’t do your charity to the sound of trumpets. That’s the way of the hypocrites in the synagogues and streets, so that men may praise them. I tell you they have their reward. But when you do charity, don’t let your right hand know what your left hand is doing, so that your charity may be in secret. And your Father, who sees in secret, may reward you.”

Several other people offered words as well, and still another broke into song, “Blessed is the generation whose eyes have seen him. Blessed be the eyes that wait for his coming.”

As other voices came from all parts of the room, they settled into a sort of rhythmic chanting, as if the assembly was seeking its way into the utmost intimacy of the Jewish hope and probing the depths of the mystery of Messiah and of the end of the world. Even the voices of the women were heard.

Then Simon spread out his arms and cried, “Come holy servant of God, come to your congregation and sit with us. Break bread with us, for you gave of your bread, which is your body. Come anointed one, bless us and purify us with the grace of your presence.”


As Barnabas came down from the dwelling, he found a group of men and women of the poor neighborhood gathered before the ancient wall. Among them he saw camel drivers, artisans and weavers. They stood there listening to the joyous sounds coming from the dwelling in the David wall. The women had little children in their arms or clinging to their aprons.

And all of them were pressing close to the entrance that led to the dwelling, crying, “Let us too enter, that they may put their hands on our children and bless them.”