Reflection

When we speak of bread, do we not speak of life itself? Of nourishment, sustenance and survival? How often do we partake without tasting? How often do we eat and remain hungry? It is not about privation of the stomach, but a starvation of the spirit. A surreptitious malnourishment that gnaws at the edges of faith, hope, and the unseen forces that anchor us to a north star, our very essence. 

The world spins on, careening forward. We feast on the fleeting, filling our days with the relentless noise of the mundane. And yet, the hunger remains. A hunger that transcends the body, an emptiness not sated by the act of living alone. We find ourselves clutching for meaning, forgetting that contentment is neither traded nor earned. It is a gift, an unravelling mystery we must learn to accept.

It is time for a truce. A pause in the battle we wage with the want within. In that stillness, we remember that life does not thrive in excess, but in the essential. Bread is not an object of desire, but a symbol, a food for the soul. Humanity finds itself on the brink, not of physical vacuity, but of a deeper, more insidious famine. A starvation of hope. A hunger for belief. We have been gorging on distractions, while the soul withers. However, there is always time to make a change. Time to break bread in fellowship, to remember what sustains us beyond what we can see. It is in the act of coming together, in sharing simple moments with fellow beings, that we rediscover the essential. In the warmth of another’s presence, in shared laughter or in silence, we find true fulfilment.

Yes, when we speak of bread, we do speak of life. For even in a humble offering, a simple symbol of life, there is an infinite abundance to behold. Not because it sustains the body, but because it satiates the soul. The unseen, the unsaid, the forgotten.

We are fed, not by temporal bounty, but by that one mysterious gift.

The gift of what it means to be alive.