Bishop Glen John Provost
Bishop of Lake Charles
Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception
June 6, 2010
Feast of Corpus Christi


“In those days, Melchizedek, king of Salem, brought out bread and wine.”
Genesis 14:18


Growing up there were a number of rituals in the family.  One such occurred on certain Sundays, when we would drive to Jeanerette in the afternoon to buy a French bread.  Jeanerette had a particular place in our family history, because here the family had settled from France in the 1700’s.  The object of this family pilgrimage, however, was an old bakery called LeJeune’s.  Outside the bakery still stands a light on a metal rod that swirls and blinks, when the bread is hot and just out of the oven.  As my father had done with his family when he was a child, we would drive to LeJeune’s to purchase two hot breads, one to be eaten on the way back home and the other to be eaten at supper.  The smell of the hotly baked bread in a closed automobile was intoxicating. 

I was reminded years later about the importance of the smell of baking bread, when a retreat director made a comparison to the Eucharist.  He began by saying that nothing reminds us of home more than baking bread.  I suppose one could argue that point, but I understood exactly what he meant.  When one returned from school or work or, in my case, from a Sunday drive to Jeanerette, the aroma of freshly baked bread was a reminder of the one event that without exception brought the family together:  the family meal.  The retreat director pointed out that the presence of freshly baked bread in the house was a constant reminder of what made bread a staple food in the lives of so many civilizations. 

My attention was called to this, as I read the Gospel for this Corpus Christi.  As the day progressed and Jesus had been teaching a large multitude of people, there are only a five loaves and two fish to feed them.  “Looking up to heaven, he said the blessing over them, broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd” (Luke 9:16).  Miraculously, “They all ate and were satisfied.  And when the leftover fragments were picked up, they filled twelve wicker baskets” (Luke 9:17).  The fact that the words chosen to describe this miracle—bless, break, and give—are identical to the words used to describe the Eucharistic institution in the Gospels and in St. Paul is no accident.  Later in the Gospel of St. Luke, Jesus at the Last Supper will take the bread, say the blessing, break it and give it to the apostles (Luke 22:19).  What was prefigured in the multiplication of the loaves and fishes will be fulfilled in the actions of the apostles and their successors after them who will “do this in memory” of Jesus (Luke 22:19. 

This terminology of “breaking bread” became for the early Christian community the way of referring to the Eucharist.  As we read in the Acts of the Apostles, “They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life, to the breaking of the bread and to the prayers” (Acts 2:42).  This activity was at the center of their Christian lives.  This is the reason St. Paul reminds the Corinthians of its importance and asks the rhetorical question, “The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?” (I Corinthians 10:16).   Had not Jesus spoken of himself as “the bread that came down from heaven” (John 6:41), “the bread of life” (John 6:48), and taught that “whoever eats this bread will live forever” (John 6:51)?   Let us meditate a little further into this mystery.

It is indeed marvelous that Jesus takes an essential food like bread and raises it to the level of a sacrament that communicates His presence to us.  This is marvelous and it is true.  However, is this the whole story?  Are we not making it sound as though Jesus could have selected something else?  Is it Jesus who selects bread as His sacrament or is it God who creates bread so that Jesus can use it to communicate Himself to us?

I think of this when I read that beautiful passage from Genesis.  Melchizedek, who is both a priest and king, comes out to meet Abram.  And what does Melchizedek bring out as an offering for this ceremony of greeting?  “Melchizedek … brought out bread and wine, and being a priest of God Most High, he blessed Abram …” (Genesis 14:18).  Having given these gifts and bestowed God’s blessing on Abram, who is to be the patriarch of the Jewish people, Melchizedek disappears into the mists of history, just as quickly as he appeared for this brief moment, setting the stage for another priest and king who would offer gifts of bread and wine to the Father of Heaven and earth.

Now Jesus takes bread and wine, the gifts God has given to the world as fundamental food and drink, and returns them to the Father.  Jesus, however, returns them not as they are but transformed into His Body and Blood, so that those, who by faith are joined to Him here on earth, might become part of the offering to the Father because they eat this food from heaven. 

This places my childhood trips to the bakery in perspective.  Bread was not the symbol that led me to the reality.  Eucharistic faith led me through the symbol to the reality.  What was real was bigger than the symbol and included the symbol as well.  All of those marvelous associations that freshly baked bread conjures up—family, home, mealtime—is God’s setting the stage so that we might understand more fully the truth of the Eucharist.  The aroma of freshly baked bread was a reminder of what had already been intended by God, the communication of His love.  The multiplication of the loaves was the mere foreshadowing of a more profound multiplication that would take place, when Jesus would be present to a greater multitude that includes you and me.  The mystery is timeless.  The mystery defies space.  “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes” (I Corinthians 11:26).