In our family's parish, we eat bread. (This is not a theological discourse on the real presence; this is a simple recipe.) Each Sunday, instead of the thin white wafers traditional to Catholic communion, our priest breaks brown bread. It is held high in his hands for all of us to see and heaped high on silver plates for all of us to eat. It wasn't what I was used to as a cradle Catholic. But I have come to love everything about this practice. I love that the simple bread is baked each week by members of our parish. It tastes like loving service. I love how our priests have to take time to break the wide flat circles into hundred of tiny squares. It tastes like holy transformation. I love that the Eucharistic ministers need the help of altar servers to hold the plates while they offer the Body of Christ. It tastes like living community. Most of all, I love what real bread requires of those of us who eat it. You have to hold it carefully in your hands so you don't drop whatever … [Read more...] about we care about the crumbs