Here’s what I said this morning:

Jesus said, This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But whoever eats this bread will live forever.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

I was trying to think how to relate to this idea of the bread of our ancestors and I remembered a childhood holiday.

For some reason, my parents had taken my sister and I for a holiday on a farm in south-west Wales. It was a great place to have a holiday. Lots to do on the farm and lots of places to go in that lovely area.

And I remember my father getting a notion.

He decided, quite out of the blue that if we were on a farm, then we needed to bake our own bread. I’m not quite sure how his logic worked because the farm in question was in the business of breeding pedigree Hereford bulls. But that doesn’t matter. He decided that bread needed to be baked and bread on the table we would have.

So we went off to an old working flour mill to buy flour because my father didn’t do things by half when he got a notion in his head.

And back we came to bake the family loaf.

There was kneeding. There was proving. There was shaping. There was baking. There was a wonderful rich smell. [Read more…]