Fellowship Class

Tarrytown United Methodist Church

January 18, 1998

Wayne Danielson



Bread of Life


Matthew 6: 11.  Give us this day our daily bread.


Luke 4: 1-4.  Filled with the Holy Spirit, Jesus left the Jordan and led by the Spirit through the wilderness, being tempted there by the devil for forty days.  During that time he ate nothing and at the end he was hungry.  Then the devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to turn into a loaf.”  But Jesus replied, “Scripture says: Man  does not live on bread alone.”


Luke 11: 11.  “What father among you would hand his son a stone when he asked for bread?”


Matthew 15: 36-38 Then he instructed the crowd to sit down on the ground, and he took the seven loaves and the fish, and he gave thanks and broke them and handed them to the disciples who gave them to the crowds.  They all ate as much as they wanted, and they  collected what was left of the scraps, seven baskets full.


John 6: 35. “I am the bread of life.  He who comes to me will never be hungry; he who believes in  me will never thirst.”


Luke 22: 19-20.  Then he took some bread and when he had given thanks, broke it, and gave it them, saying, “This is my body which will be given for you; do this as a memorial of me.”  He did the same with the cup after supper, and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood which will be poured out for you.”


Luke 13: 20-21. Another thing he said, “What shall I compare the kingdom of God with?  It is like the yeast a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour till it was leavened all through.”



My work for the last two years has been in administration.  Oh, I taught a freshman seminar during the fall term of 1996, but that was mainly a lark. The course was called “Reading the Papers,” and that’s what we did.  The students and I read four newspapers every morning  — The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The American Statesman and The Daily Texan. Then we got together at 8 o’clock for a continental breakfast served up in one of the grand old rooms in the Tower and talked about the news.  It was great fun, and we all learned a lot, but it wasn’t really teaching.

Tuesday, however, I am going back to real teaching.   I have a real course that meets at 8 a.m. in a real computer lab — no breakfast allowed — and it’s entirely new material.  I am going to be working with the students on creating internet web pages for the journalism department — places where student work can be displayed.  Those of you who are interested in such things may want to look at the pages later on.  Not right away, please. 

I have a great deal to learn myself before I can be of much help to my students.  It is going to be one of those semesters where I will be lucky to be ahead of my students and not behind them.   I am sure that many of them know more about what we are going to do than I do.

So I am a little apprehensive about this term.  I am 68 years old, and I’m starting a new career when I probably should be thinking about retiring.

What I am leaving behind is also cause for a certain nostalgia.

As most of you know, I have been on administrative assignment for the last two years, working on the reaccreditation of the University with the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools.

This turned out to be a bigger job than I thought it would be.  We wound up writing three reports and being visited by a team of more than 20 accreditors and consultants. It was quite a chore, and I am glad that stress doesn’t particularly bother me.  The man who headed up this effort 10 years ago died not long after the accreditors left campus — he had a heart attack while jogging.  He had separated from his wife, and his body lay unidentified in the morgue for more than 24 hours before anyone noticed he was gone.

I’ve been careful about exercising this last month, as LaVonne will tell you.

But I did get a cedar branch in my  eye while out hiking with the grandchildren.  And this last week, while cleaning out my old office, I tried moving a bookcase by myself and one of the shelves fell on my thumb and broke it.

I do need to be careful during this period.

Moving out of the Tower office that LaVonne redecorated was a sad occasion.  It was a beautiful and peaceful office, one of the nicest I’ve ever occupied, even considering the dean’s offices I have lived in.  People would come there just to sit down and chat and enjoy the office — they didn’t care whether I was there or not.

Of course moving out of the office also meant separating from my good friend and research associate Elaine Ward.  Some of you remember Elaine.  She was a member of this church (and of the Faith class)  some years ago. Elaine and I have worked together since 1991.  She accepted a temporary part-time job working with me when I was chair of the Faculty Computer Committee and needed help in getting the colleges and schools to develop vision plans for information technology in their areas.   Then I began getting assigned to various committees and task forces — one on multiculturalism in the curriculum, one on devising a way to evaluate administrators, one on instituting a student fee to provide the computers we needed to adjust to the changing requirements for teaching and research, one on  integrating the various information technology systems that had grown up over the years, and finally the three accreditation studies.  One thing just led to another, you see, and what began as a temporary, part-time, six-month job, became a full-time job that went on for six years.

This fall I decided that the time now and absolutely has come for me to stop doing that sort of thing and to return to my original line of work. Elaine will stay  on in the Provost’s Office working with other administrators on other reports.

Saying goodbye to someone who has been an officemate for 6 years is difficult. It’s  kind of like breaking up housekeeping.  I spent all last week going through files and papers, throwing out what I could and stacking the rest at home in the garage when LaVonne wasn’t looking. Elaine and I exchanged gifts, and the purpose of this long introduction, is to tell you what Elaine gave me.

She knows me well and her gift was very appropriate.  It was a book about making bread.  It had a strong spiritual theme.  Its title is, The Secrets of Jesuit Breadmaking: Recipes and Traditions from Jesuit Bakers  Around the World.  Its author is Brother Rick Curry, S.J., and its foreword was written by Laura Esquival, the author of the popular novel (and motion picture) Like Water for Chocolate.

In her introduction Ms. Esquival observes, “In nearly all faiths, the divinity is made present in what we ingest.”  She notes that bread, the staple food of western societies, has taken on a special role in Judaism and Christianity.  Ms. Esquival writes, “Dividing the bread was the perfect sign for  the resurrection of the Messiah.  Through the ritual of communion, the absent Master, in the form of bread and wine, returned to nourish his disciples spiritually and materially.”  She goes on to say that religious communities “have always valued the importance of the partaking of food and drink, and have considered it a sacrament, the actual presence of God among man, and have developed subtle and wondrous methods to symbolize the many ways in which they may affect the loving act of preparing nourishment for the pleasure of their brothers.”

Brother Rick Curry’s book is devoted both to “preparing nourishment” — the recipes for bread — and to explaining the symbols and spirituality of breadmaking.  He presents 80 recipes from religious institutions around the world.  Although he now heads the National Theatre Workshop for the Handicapped, he continues to bake bread every day, a job that he got early in his novitiate at St. Isaac’s in Wernersville Pennsylvania, which he entered as a 17-year-old in 1961. He did not aim at becoming a priest, but a Brother, and he went to the novitiate “to pray, to learn, and to prepare myself for the work that Brothers did in those pre-Vatican II days — artisanship and craftsmanship.”

Brother Curry has only one arm, and he went through a variety of jobs during his novitiate — sweeping and cleaning, helping in a tailor shop, and finally breadmaking.  In the making and baking of bread he found the combination of labor and reflection that encouraged him in his religious vocation.

St. Ignatius of Loyola founded the Jesuit order in 1534.  It was recognized by Pope Paul III in 1540. Early Jesuit brothers were architects, builders, painters, musicians, even physicians, to name only a few professions.  Suppressed in 1773, the order was reinstated in 1814 with most of the Brothers becoming simple artisans.  Since Vatican II, members have returned to their historic missions, and many Brothers now are teachers and seek advanced degrees.  Brother Curry himself holds an M.A. and a doctorate.

He begins his daily breadmaking with a spiritual exercise called an Examen of Conscience.  He defines this exercise as “prayer spent in checking one’s progress toward a greater union with God and better service to others.”

He goes on to say:

“After reading the recipe, I take a deep breath, relax, and recall that I am in God’s presence.  I recall the last twenty-four hours and name the good things that have come into my life, and I thank God for them.  After the dough has been mixed and begins to rise, I reflect on how I have participated in this new life, and I beg God to show me how I am growing more alive in my spiritual life.  I examine what my recent actions, omissions, thoughts, and desires tell me about my relationship to God and myself and others in God.  I examine how I have dealt with my family and coworkers.  Have I spent any time in the last twenty -four hours doing something generous for another?  Do I harbor resentment?  Have I held my tongue?  Have I prayed for another’s needs?  Has my conversation been hurtful?  Am I part of the problem or part of the solution?  Have I been kind?  Have I remembered that God is lovingly watching over me?”

This is a good way to begin baking bread, I am sure.   But it seems to me that it is a good way as well to begin the day’s work in any field. It’s a good idea for all of us to begin each day with an Examen of Conscience. Brother Curry said most Jesuit bakers dedicate their baking to the Lord by the simple act of kissing their aprons before putting them on.  They remember the Trinity by making three slashes in the tops of rolls.  I think I’ll try that and see if it improves my loaves any.

Brother Curry has lots of good ideas about making bread.  For example, he recommends using bottled water because of the poor quality of most urban water these days.  He doesn’t mind using machinery to help with the kneading, but he insists that at least some personal kneading of the dough  is essential — both for the bread and for the baker. He likes dry  or powdered yeast, which he keeps refrigerated.  He uses unbleached flour. He recommends spraying loaves of French bread with vinegar before baking to get that delicious crust.  Scalded milk is no longer needed in these days of pasteurization, he says, although he does think that milk should be warmed before use in breadmaking.  You can fake sour milk by putting some lemon juice in regular milk, he says. Don’t eat hot bread right out of the oven, he says.  Let it cool on a rack first for at least an hour.  (I’m not sure I agree with that one.)

I’ve tried a number of his recipes, and I can guarantee that they are easy to make and are delicious. But even more delicious in the long run, I think, are stories and prayers that he mixes in with the recipes.  Here are a few that I especially liked:

Opposite the recipe for Date and Walnut Bread, we find the story of Brother Kimura.


Brother Leonard Kimura, Martyr of Japan (1575-1619) was a cook, a baker, and the first Jesuit Brother martyr.  His was an old family of Christians in Japan; his grandfather was baptized by St. Francis Xavier.   When missionaries were banned in  Japan in 1614, he stayed and lived as a fugitive.  He was captured in 1616 with some other men who were suspected friars, but at the time of  his capture he was not suspected of being a Jesuit.  When asked if he knew the whereabouts of a Jesuit priest he replied, “I know one Jesuit, he is a Brother and not a priest.  I am the Brother.”  Because of h is admission, h e was sent to prison and burned at t he stake.  The feast of Brother Kimura i s observed on November 18.


Along with St. Alphonsus Rodriguez’s raisin bread recipe, we learn the story of this saint’s life.  He was married and had two children.  His entire family died in an epidemic, and he tried to enter monastery as a brother but was rejected for being too old.  He kept on trying, and finally the abbot let him in even though he was 35 years old.  He became a great favorite of the people on the island of Majorca.  Brother Curry writes of him, “He would try to see Jesus in every  person; for example, every time there was a knock at his door he would say, ‘I’m coming, Lord.’”

I really like that.  I think I’ll start answering the telephone that way on busy days.  If you call me up, and I answer, “Yes, Lord,” you’ll know what I’m doing.

When St. Alphonsus died, the Church was not interested in canonizing him, but the people of Majorca insisted upon it, and he is still honored with a feast every Halloween.


Opposite the recipe for bagels, Brother Curry tells this delightful story of Brother Myer Toby:


Myer Toby, S.J., was a Jesuit priest who had converted from Judaism.  His decision was very painful for his family, but they grew to accept it.  He told me this story that revealed much about acceptance.

He went to  visit his mother in t he hospital wearing his Roman collar.  She was in a semiprivate room with another Jewish woman. After the visit he was standing outside his mother’s room and overhead this conversation: “Mrs. Toby, very interesting that your son is a priest,” declared her roommate.  Mrs. Toby replied, “He’s making a lot of people very happy.  Not his mother, but a  lot of people.”


And finally, I like this saying from St. Ignatius, the founder of the Jesuit order.  It appears  adjacent to the recipe for fresh potato rolls:


Love consists in sharing

what one has

and what one is

with  those one loves.

Love ought to show itself in deeds

more than in words.


I like that, don’t you?  I’m supposed to be a word person, and I don’t mind writing words down or saying them aloud in public.  But for the most important times in life, the most important occasions, I have often found that I have no words to offer.  All I have to give is a deed — a hug on meeting someone, a pat on the back (or a gentle rub), a kiss on the cheek, an errand run, a cup of coffee offered. When a neighbor, the mother of a two little girls was diagnosed with breast cancer  a few months ago, all I could do was take over a loaf of bread. When feelings run too deep for words, all the solace that many of us can can offer is our service and our tears. St. Ignatius says that’s all right.

The Bible, when you think about it, is filled with bread.

There are simply  hundreds of references to it.

Passover, the oldest of the celebrations, is marked in Jewish homes by the presence of unleavened bread, in memory of those Jewish women, packing to leave Egypt in a hurry with Moses and unable to make the leavened bread they were accustomed to.  (By the way, did you know that it was in Egypt that breadmakers first began to use yeast left over from beermaking as a dependable leavening agent?  Brother Curry’s book told me that.)

The New Testament writings are similarly filled with stories about bread and breadmaking and bread eating.

Luke begins his book with a  bread story — about the devil tempting Jesus to turn a stone into a loaf of bread to demonstrate his power.   And he ends his book with the story  of the Last Supper  — a Passover supper by the way — with its famous injunction from Jesus to his disciples to remember him in  the eating of bread and drinking of wine.  It is interesting to think that at any particular moment these words of Luke almost certainly are being repeated somewhere in the world:


Luke 22: 19-20.  Then he took some bread and when he had given thanks, broke it, and gave it them, saying, “This is my body which will be given for you; do this as a memorial of me.”  He did the same with the cup after supper, and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood which will be poured out for you.”


Bread and wine, symbols of our faith, simple and profound.  Jesus often used bread as a symbol.  He used it in The Lord’s Prayer to remind us that all good gifts come from God. 


Give us this day our daily bread.


He used it in parables and sayings to demonstrate the unending kindness of God.


Luke 11: 11. “What father among you would hand his son a stone when he asked for bread?”

He used it to describe the energy and wonder of  the kingdom of heaven.


Luke 13: 20-21. Another thing he said, “What shall I compare the kingdom of God with?  It is like the yeast a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour till it was leavened all through.”


He used it to describe himself and his work and his words as the very foundation of our lives, just as bread forms the staple and foundation of our physical existence:


John 6: 35. “I am the bread of life.  He who comes to me will never be hungry; he who believes in  me will never thirst.”


And his greatest miracle, the one for which he is most remembered, involved feeding bread to a multitude of people, bread,  the simple symbol of their existence:


Matthew 15: 36-38 Then he instructed the crowd to sit down on the ground, and he took the seven loaves and the fish, and he gave thanks and broke them and handed them to the disciples who gave them to the crowds.  They all ate as much as they wanted, and they  collected what was left of the scraps, seven baskets full.



Life is changing for me right now.  I’m a little apprehensive about everything that is happening and wondering whether I will be able to cope.  Elaine’s book has reminded me of the importance of bread in real life and especially in spiritual life.  I certainly can recommend Brother Rick Curry’s recipes to you and his advice as well. I wanted to make a little bread for you from one of his recipes, but with everything I am experiencing right now, I thought perhaps I had better fall back on my own tradition, the Swedish tradition, and bake some breakfast rolls that my mother taught me to make years ago.  I’m pretty good at making these. They almost never fail.  But just to be sure this time, I kissed my apron before I began.