Breaking Bread in 2025: Why This Ancient Tradition Still Matters

When I hear the phrase breaking bread, my mind goes first to the Last Supper — and to the familiar painting that hung in my grandmother’s house when I was young. The words echo Jesus’ command: “Do this in remembrance of me.” But the act of breaking bread is more than a faith practice. It is also a family tradition and a cultural kindness — welcoming someone into your home, sharing what you’ve prepared, and giving them a seat at your table.

Even today, I’m reminded of this truth. Just an hour ago, my daughter asked if her friend could join us for dinner. That meant a scramble to clean the house and set an extra plate, but that’s part of the beauty: breaking bread demands a little sacrifice. It costs money, it takes preparation, and it requires attention. Yet what it gives in return is far greater — connection, conversation, and tradition.

In a world where families average only 15 minutes together over a meal — compared to 90 minutes in the 1960s — those moments are powerful. They’re an antidote to the “in your face” technologies that dominate our days. Sitting at a table slows us down. It draws us away from screens and puts us face to face. Even small talk becomes meaningful. Meals are where children open up about grades, recess, or their friendships. They’re where a spouse finds a chance to give or receive comfort.

Science even confirms what we feel in our hearts. Smell is tied directly to memory. The scent of fresh bread can spark a flood of recollections — grandmother’s banana bread, summers mowing lawns with brothers, or a holiday meal shared years ago. Bread, in particular, has been a staple at our tables for so long that we know it intimately, almost instinctively. Its smell and texture are triggers of memory, comfort, and even gratitude.

That’s why breaking bread still matters in 2025. It reminds us of who we are and who we belong to. For me, buying my first dining table was more than a furniture purchase — it was the creation of a sacred space. At that table, my family smiles across from one another, shares their best and worst moments of the day, and asks where they saw God working in their lives. This practice continues even when we travel. It’s become our tradition — one I pray will carry on for generations.

My work as a baker is deeply tied to this conviction. Bread has always stood on the edge of faith and reality — both a physical provision and a metaphor for God’s presence. Through my bakery, breaking bread has become not only our family rhythm but also a ministry to others. We help those in need, mirror scripture in daily life, and give people a taste of something eternal in something as simple as a loaf.

Tradition is important, but not as a weight. It is a reminder to pause. To gather. To be human. When we sit with our families and listen, we understand each other better. We remember more. We connect more deeply.

So tonight, set the table — even if it’s messy or rushed. Call the kids out of their rooms. Give everyone a voice. Break bread together. Do this in remembrance — not only of Christ, but of one another.