Chapter 12 - Junia – The breaking of bread

My eyes were still closed, but it was as though I could see golden threads running between people... like... like they were being woven into an intricate tapestry of love.

What an evening that was, the laughter and conversation, the overwhelming love as we prayed for Rachel and her family, the deep gratitude I felt as the sister of my heart, Prisca, was blessed as she learned to give her anxiety to God, the joy of the Holy Spirit saturating everything and everyone...it... it was my first experience of what it’s like to live in the kingdom of God, to be fully alive, be part of God's family, and no words can ever fully capture what that is like.

Towards the end of the meal, Peter led us in singing the great Hallel, and that well-known psalm took on a new depth of meaning. Each time we sang that refrain, ‘His love endures forever!’, a new wave of God's love washed over me and filled the courtyard. I’d sung that psalm many times over the years, at home when we celebrated the Passover, often at the Synagogue in Emmaus, and just about every time we visited the temple, but I'd never experienced it in the way I did that evening.

Singing it with family and friends at home was delightful, intimate, and sometimes funny (Motti just cannot sing) and singing it in the synagogue could be beautiful and uplifting. Singing in the temple, as part of the thousands that gathered at festivals was incredible. It’s always moving to be part of a large crowd all singing together, add in the grandeur of the temple and the richness of the ritual and it’s always inspiring. But that evening at Martha's, our singing moved me in a much deeper, more intimate way.

Our singing together in the temple was an offering to God. We couldn’t approach God directly so the priests made sacrifices on our behalf, but we could all sing our offering of praise to him. However, as incredible as temple worship could be, it always felt like a performance for God... like God was the audience for our song, the recipient of our praise. But in Martha's courtyard, it felt very different. Rather than a performance for God, our singing felt like an intimate dance of love with God. God wasn't distant, looking on with approval, but he was with us... dancing with us... pouring out his love on us.

As we finished singing the psalm, there were jubilant shouts of “Alleluia!” from around the courtyard. We'd stood and moved as we were singing, and I ended up standing with Prisca, Mary and Mags. We all hugged, laughing and crying.

‘That was incredible.' Prisca laughed, ‘I've never felt so free, so unencumbered, so able to openly express my thanks and praise.’ She was almost glowing, as she continued breathlessly, ‘When we’ve sung in the synagogue in Rome, I've always been too self-conscious to really pour my heart into my praise. Giving my anxiety to God has freed me up to express myself without fear. I am so, so, so grateful!’

We all hugged again, and then along with the rest of the courtyard we sat down and settled into conversation.

‘What was it like?’ I asked Prisca, ‘When you were being prayed for just now, how did it feel?’

She put her head on one side and thought for a moment, ‘It was like many things... like I'd been tied down and bound up all my life, and God untangled it and set me free... like I’d been carrying a heavy burden so long that it didn't notice it. It weighed me down, but it had become so much a part of me that I was used to living with it. Then God took that burden off me and freed me, and I feel light and alive in a way I never have.’ She laughed again.

‘I'm so pleased for you. I hugged her again, then hesitated for a moment before turning to Mary, and asking, ‘Err... On the walk here you shared about a time that you and Cleopas had cast out a demon. Was ... was what happened for Prisca the same sort of thing?’

‘Hah! No.’ It was Mags who replied, shaking her head and smiling gently, ‘Although I can see why you might think that.’ She paused for a moment, and her face became more serious, ‘When I first met Jesus, he cast some demons out of me, and that felt very different. It wasn't as though I was laying down a burden or even like I'd been tied down and was being cut loose. They weren't something external to me that was constraining me, they were fully a part of me, part of my heart, mind and soul... even seeming to exert control over my body at times.

‘Even when the demons were gone, I still had weeds in my life... but they weren’t anger or anxiety.’ She paused again, ‘Until today I'd not thought of it in this way, but the weeds planted in my life created a hardness around me... a hardness that let nobody in, a hardness that made me distrust everyone... and particularly men. It was a hardness that I thought was for my protection, I thought I was keeping people out and keeping me safe. In reality, it was a prison that stopped me from experiencing the love of God... or for that matter the love of anyone. Jesus cast out the demons, but he recognised that hardness would take longer to heal... those weeds would take longer to clear.’

She shifted her position, tucking her knees under her and sitting back on her heals before continuing, ‘It took years... many conversations with him, and with Salome... and many times that I witnessed his compassion and love of others.’ She thought for a moment, ‘Years... of slowly chipping away at the hardness around my heart. It was only finally shattered on the day of the resurrection...’ She shook her head and smiled, ‘But that's a story for another time. In answer to your question, having the demons in me was something very different. I'm not quite sure how to put it into words.’

There was a short silence that was broken by Mary, ‘One time when the Pharisees were arguing with Jesus, I remember Jesus talking about casting evil spirits out of the “house”. I didn't understand what he meant then... and I'm not sure I do now... but does it help if we think about ourselves as a house, and the demons as unwelcome visitors... or maybe vermin?’

Mags smiled, ‘Yes it does. The weeds are things outside the house. They are planted by the enemy, and if untended can overgrow the house, but they aren't actually part of us. The demons are the unwanted vermin that are actually in the house. Once they are in, they become part of you and can seem impossible to remove.’

She closed her eyes as she recalled what it was like, ‘When the demons were in me, it was a like a dark malevolent anger that bubbled deep in my heart. Not something outside of me, but something at the very core of me. Like a poison that infected who I was. The demons changed the way I behaved towards others... they gradually influenced me, convincing me I was worthless. They fed on my fears and insecurities and magnified them. In the end, I was a desperate, horrible mess.’

She opened her eyes and looked round at the three of us, ‘When I found Jesus, or rather when he found me, I remember that the demons were terrified of him. And when he commanded them to go, they just left. It was like throwing open the doors and window shutters of a house to allow a fresh breeze to blow away a stale smell. In the presence of the love of Jesus, the demons had no chance.’

Prisca was nodding, ‘I think I understand the difference.’ She said, ‘I know the weeds weren't really part of who I am, they were just tangled in my roots... stifling me...choking out my potential. Even though God has helped me remove most of the weeds, the enemy will continue to plant more. Just like in any garden, I'll need to keep on top of the weeds... keep giving my anxiety to God.’

‘Yes!’ Mags smiled, ‘That's it! Just like I need to take care not to harden my heart again... I need to recognise those times when I'm likely to retreat and put up barriers, and ask for God's help with that.’

‘What?’ Prisca was looking at me, ‘Junia, you look as though you are about to burst.’ She laughed.

‘I think I might be!’ I laughed with her as my voice came out with a squeak and fresh tears rolled down my cheeks, ‘I keep thinking about everything I've seen and heard and learned and experienced today... I've understood more in one day than in all my years since I converted to Judaism.’ I laughed again, ‘I don't know why I'm crying, it's just so beautiful... so overwhelming...’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Mary laughed giving me a hug, ‘We had three years with Jesus, and there were so many times when it all felt too much, but it was never as beautiful and overwhelming as today has been.’

‘That’s just how I feel,’ Prisca echoed Mary's comments, ‘And I'm burning with so many questions. The more I experience, the more I learn... the more I find myself needing to understand.’

‘Prisca, your questions and insights are one of the reasons today has been so beautiful and overwhelming,’ Mary laughed, ‘What are you wanting to ask now?’

Prisca smiled and blushed, but didn't shy away as she would have done earlier, ‘I've sung the great Hallel many times... and it was so freeing to sing my praises loudly tonight without feeling self-conscious. But what really struck me was some of the words. In the light of all that has happened, they seemed to take on a new meaning.’

‘Which words? What do you mean.’ I asked.

‘Well, if I remember right, the psalm was written by David in praise of God after he’d defeated Saul and become king of Israel... But so many of the words seemed to be speaking about what God has done today.

‘For example,’ she closed her eyes recalling the words, ‘“The Lord is my strength and my song, he has become my salvation.” or “I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done.” or more specifically “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this and it is marvellous in our eyes. The Lord has done it this very day; let us rejoice and be glad.”’

She looked back and forth between Mary and Mags, ‘Do you think David was inspired by the Spirit to write the words of the psalm for this very day?’

‘Good question.’ Mags responded, ‘You should ask Thomas, John or Matthew. Over these last few weeks they’ve been thinking through the books of the law, the prophets and the writings, and finding many prophecies that were fulfilled in Jesus, life, death and resurrection.’

‘I'm sure they will be doing that even more in the light of today’s events.’ Mary added. She deepened her voice, and said enthusiastically, ‘Look, here's another one that the scribes and the Pharisees missed! No wonder Jesus called them blind guides.’

Mags laughed, ‘Brilliant impression of Matthew!’

‘I heard that!’ Matthew said with a stern voice. He was sitting just behind us in the group next to ours. He turned round to face us and continued with a laugh, ‘Even I thought it was me!’

We all smiled and Mags explained, ‘Prisca was just asking if David was inspired to write the words of the Great Hallel as a prophecy about today. What do you think?’

‘Good question... They certainly resonated more in the light of all that’s happened.’ He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, ‘But I don't think it was originally written just for this day. The words must have spoken to our people through the centuries each time the Lord delivered us... to Hezekiah when he was delivered from the Assyrians; to Esther when her people were saved from Hamas' plotting; to Nehemiah when the walls of Jerusalem were rebuilt after the exile... any time when the Lord has won a victory for his people.’

He paused again before continuing, ‘Having said that, Thomas and I agree that the stories and prophecies in scripture point to the coming of the Messiah, and that they are fulfilled in Jesus... and confirmed in the Promise of that Father we’ve received today. John says they are like reverse echoes in history... rather than a shouted word that gradually dies away, they are like a faint echo that gets louder and louder until we find their fulfilment in Jesus as the original word.’ He smiled, ‘Maybe we can see the words of the Great Hallel like that too.’

‘Err... Thank you, Matthew... you could just have said “In a way, yes.”’ Mary laughed, ‘Serves us right for asking... Seriously though, I love the “echoes” idea. I'll just stick with that and probably forget the rest.’ She laughed again and Matthew joined in.

‘I love the echoes idea too,’ Mags said, ‘Thanks, Matthew.’

‘My pleasure.’ Matthew inclined his head in a mock bow, ‘Nice to meet you, Junia and Prisca. Please keep asking questions, Jesus always encouraged it.’ He smiled, ‘Now, if you'll excuse me, I was busy in conversation in my own group before I was interrupted by a terrible impersonation of me.’ He nodded at Mary, laughed again, and turned back to his group.

‘There is so much to learn, and I want to know it all.’ Prisca said with longing. ‘I don't know where to start and I feel like I'm grasping at things in the wrong order. It seems so random. When I was studying with Rabbi Benjamin, he guided me through my learning to ensure I was getting the right things I needed in the right order.’ She looked back and forth between Mags and Mary, ‘Is there a right order I should go about learning what Jesus taught?’

‘Another good question.’ Mary said, ‘Mags and I were with Jesus from very near the beginning, but I can't say there was an order to what he taught. What do you think Mags?’

Mags thought before replying, ‘I agree. Jesus seemed to teach out of events and situations, out of the things that happened as he travelled or healed or was confronted by the Pharisees. There wasn't a set order... but... but it nearly always pointed towards the kingdom of God. There was a lot of repetition, as he would often teach similar things about the kingdom in the different synagogues we visited. The repetition was helpful, as between us we seem to have retained a lot of what he taught...’ she laughed, ‘And it was also helpful because we were soooo slow to understand.’

Mary laughed with her, ‘There was a pattern though,’ she said, ‘There was a pattern to our days with him that included prayer, teaching and learning, growing together as a diverse community, and blessing and serving others. Jesus modelled that, encouraged and challenged us to copy him.

‘After he died, I think most of us lost the habit. However, in this last week or so, as we were waiting in Jerusalem, we renewed it. Rediscovering that pattern, that way of living, transformed us. I think it's what made us ready for what God wanted to do today.’

‘Yes,’ Mags agreed, ‘There's no set order to learn things, but if we follow the pattern, the way that Jesus lived, then I think the Holy Spirit will work with us in the community to guide and teach us as Jesus did.’

‘That’s why gifts like the ones you two have will be a real blessing.’ Mary smiled at Prisca and me, ‘Junia to bring people together, and build solid trusting friendships in the Spirit, and Prisca to help us find insight and deeper understanding.’

For once Prisca didn't blush. ‘It will be a privilege.’ She beamed, ‘I'm so incredibly excited to be part of this.’

‘Me too.’ I said, hugging Prisca, ‘Me too.’

The last glow from the sun faded, revealing the brightness of the stars... it was incredible. ‘It's like they are shining in worship too.’ I said quietly to myself, ‘All of creation praising God.’

The others overheard and followed my gaze, ‘Beautiful.’ Prisca gasped.

Mary started singing gently, with awe in her voice, ‘Praise him, sun and moon; praise him all you shining stars. Praise him, you highest heavens...’

We joined in and before long the whole courtyard was singing again as we, along with all creation, poured out our praise.

When we'd sung the Great Hallel, it had been full of joy and energy, but Mary had started us singing gently and, even as people around the courtyard joined in, there was a quiet reverence in our praise, a sense of awe at the enormity of God's love.

The last words of the psalm faded and we all sat in silence gazing up at the stars. No one wanted to break the beauty of that moment and the silence stretched on for what seemed like ages. Eventually, Peter stood and prayed from the heart in a quiet, reverent voice, ‘Father... the glory of your creation is beautiful beyond measure, and we are in awe at all you have done and are doing. We thank you for all that your Son did among us, and that today you have poured out your Spirit upon us. We are... we are reeling from seeing the beauty of your creation, witnessing the work of your son, and... and knowing the depth of your love. Bless us again we pray as we come to remember one of his final commands before he died.'

He paused for a moment, looking around the courtyard, ‘Over the years, we’ve shared many meals like this with Jesus. And this evening, I'm reminded of the last meal that we shared with him before he died.’ Every eye was fixed on him as he continued, ‘Earlier this afternoon, the twelve met, and the eleven of us that were there on that night spent some time recalling the words he spoke at that meal.’

He looked around the courtyard catching the eye of each of the apostles, before continuing, ‘Jesus always gave thanks at the beginning of a meal, just as we did today... but in that last meal he also did something at the end.’ Peter bent down, picked up some of the unleavened bread and held it up for us all to see. ‘On the night before he died, he took bread, gave thanks and gave it to us saying, “Take, eat, this is my body given for you. Do this to remember me.”’

Peter looked around the group, ‘In the weeks since, with his resurrection appearances we've seemed to bounce from one thing to another and I’ve not given it much thought... But on this day, when the Spirit has been poured out on us... on this day, when the promise of the Father has been fulfilled... on this day, when we have come to know the eternal life he promised, I can't get it out of my head. The spirit keeps whispering in my heart, “Remember... remember.” So, as the twelve discussed earlier, when we share in this bread, I want us to pause and remember Jesus, all he did among us, and all he is doing in us and through us, by the Holy Spirit.’ Peter broke off a small portion of the bread for himself, before tearing the rest in half and passing the halves to his left and right in his group.

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‘I doubt that this will go round a group this size,’ he laughed, ‘So I call on my brothers who were there at that meal to break some bread and share it with those seated near you.’

There were three pieces of bread left in the basket in the middle of our group. Zee took two and handed one to Mags who turned to give it to Matthew behind us. Zee beckoned us to come closer.

I hesitated, ‘Is this right?’ I asked, speaking the question that the four of us who had set out from Emmaus that morning were all thinking. ‘We weren't with you when you travelled with Jesus.’

‘But you are with us now.’ Zee smiled, ‘Jesus welcomed everyone at his table, tax collectors, prostitutes, Pharisees, Zealots, the rich, the poor... and even people from Emmaus.’ He laughed, nodding at Cleopas and Mary. ‘He didn't care what you believed or understood about him, he shared food as a blessing for anyone who would eat with him. And I am sure that this meal is no different.’

‘This does seem different, though.’ Aquila said, ‘Peter just told us that Jesus said to do this to remember him. We haven't met him, so how can we remember him?’

‘Oh but you have,’ Mary joined the conversation, ‘He’s with you through the Holy Spirit... and I sense the spirit telling me that there is something in this that will make Jesus even more present to us.’

Motti looked unsure, ‘Even for me?’ he half-whispered, his voice choking as he looked at Zee.

‘Especially for you, my brother.’ Zee answered as he raised the bread and repeated the words that Peter had said, ‘On the night before he died, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and gave it to us saying, “Take, eat, this is my body given for you. Do this to remember me.”’

As Peter had done, Zee broke off a portion of bread for himself, then passed the remainder to around the group. We each broke off a piece and held it carefully in our hands.

‘Given for us all.’ Zee said, pausing to study the bread before putting it in his mouth. The others followed his lead, Motti hesitating before following suit a few seconds later.

I held the bread in my hand calling to mind all that had happened that day; remembering the incredible joy I’d experienced as the Holy Spirit had shown me the enormity of God’s love. ‘Thank you.’ I whispered and closed my eyes as I popped the bread into my mouth. Silence fell across the courtyard as everyone consumed the bread.

I’ve lost count of the many times we’ve broken bread together since, and it’s not always had the same impact. Sometimes it has felt very ordinary, but on that occasion, the Spirit was powerfully present again. In other encounters with the Spirit that day I'd felt overwhelmed by joy, but this time it was different. As I swallowed the bread, I felt a deep peace growing in my heart and spreading throughout my body. It wasn't an overpowering emotion... it was certain and firm, but gentle and reassuring... and with it came a growing sense of connectedness with all the people around me; like we were being woven together into one fabric.

We continued to sit in silence, and I kept thinking about how many times the people around me had gathered and eaten meals like this with Jesus. I imagined what it would have been like to sit and eat with him, and suddenly he was there! Not physically...but there was a sense of his presence among us, his love binding everyone together. My eyes were still closed, but it was as though I could see golden threads running between people... like... like they were being woven into an intricate tapestry of love. It was as though I could see the love he'd shared with these people who’d followed him... It was beautiful!

I let out a gasp when I realised the same love was flowing in and through me... that I was connected... that I belonged... that I too was loved. That moment seemed to last an eternity, and then a male voice gently whispered in my ear, ‘Follow me.’

Startled, I opened my eyes and looked around. Prisca was the nearest person to me, but she had her eyes closed and was leaning away from me. No one else was near enough to have whispered in my ear.

‘Jesus.’ I said quietly under my breath, Jesus was inviting me to follow him! My heart leapt and I stifled a gasp.

I ought to explain. When a Rabbi chooses you as a disciple, it is because they believe you can learn and pass on what they have taught... more than that, they believe that you can learn and grow to become like them in every way. In Jewish culture, to be chosen by a Rabbi is a great honour, and when they choose someone, they would say, ‘Follow me.’

I couldn't believe that Jesus meant me. I could see myself as a part of this group as a sort of helper, but not as a disciple.

‘Junia.’ The whisper came again. This time my eyes were open and I could see there was no one near me, the voice was in my head, ‘Junia,’ it repeated, ‘Follow me.’

‘But I am not worthy,’ I’d not meant to say the words aloud, but I did, and in the silence, my words carried to the far corners of the courtyard.

Zee opened his eyes and smiled at me, ‘None of us are, sister. None of us are.’ he said gently.

Mary leaned over and hugged me as Peter stood and spoke, ‘You're right, Zee, none of us are worthy... Jesus invites us, and we all draw away. We see the brokenness, the sin in the world around us, and we know that same sin and brokenness in our hearts. So when we are confronted with his love, we feel so totally unworthy.’ Peter looked round the courtyard and even in the poor light from the torches, I could see that his cheeks were wet with tears.

‘Perhaps, our need for reassurance that our sins are forgiven is why Jesus put himself in the situation where he would be betrayed and... and denied...’ Peter’s voice broke slightly, and he paused, gathering himself before continuing, ‘And why he let himself be taken and killed in such a cruel way. He did this so we could know there is nothing we have done, or not done, that could separate us from his love. And to show us that his love is stronger than all powers... even that of death.’

John stood and went over to stand by Peter, ‘I think that's why in the last supper we shared with him, at the end of the meal, he passed around a cup of wine to share.’ John lifted the cup he was carrying, ‘Jesus said, “This is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”’ John paused, looking at the cup in his hand, ‘He knew we would feel unworthy, and he said that whenever we drink this, we should do it in remembrance of him... in remembrance that we are loved and forgiven... in remembrance that no matter what we think, he counts us as worthy.

Peter embraced John before picking up his cup and raising it high, ‘This is his blood, shed that we might find the forgiveness of our sins. Let us share the cup.’

Peter and John both sat down in their groups and Zee raised his cup, repeating what John had said, ‘Jesus said, “This is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” He looked around the group, pausing and holding Motti's eyes before continuing, ‘Drink this and know that you are forgiven, that you are loved, and that you are invited to follow him.’

We passed the cup around in silence, but when Mary passed it to me, she smiled and whispered, ‘Jesus says, “Follow me.”’

I took the cup, took a small mouthful of wine, and passed it on to Prisca before closing my eyes and swallowing. The sensation of peace and connectedness I'd felt from eating the bread had started in my heart, but with the wine it was different. A tingling sensation started on my lips and in my mouth, which grew to a warmth that spread down and through my body… like it was cleansing every part of me... like it was gently washing away all the darkness and brokenness in me, leaving me feeling fresh and alive.

‘Thank you, Lord.’ I whispered, smiling. And the others nearby echoed my words.

There was silence for a while and then Peter spoke, ‘As we come to the end of our meal, I think it would be good to finish by praying the evening prayer and finishing with the prayer that Jesus taught us.’

He paused before starting with the familiar cadence of the prayer all Jews are taught form a young age. We all joined him, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all of your heart, with all of your soul, and with all of your strength...’

We continued together, the familiar words taking new meaning in the light of all that had happened that day. When we got to the new prayer that Peter had taught us earlier that day, I was surprised that I remembered the words. In light of my experiences with the bread and wine, the lines of forgiveness and forgiving resonated deeply.

When we'd finished praying, Martha took charge of organising the clearing up and making sure that everyone had a place to sleep. The men were all put in the courtyard, or other outbuildings and the women were in various rooms around the house. I ended up on a sleeping pallet on the roof of the house, next to the drying rack for the herbs and surrounded by the glorious smell of thyme and sage. Prisca, Mary and about a dozen others were there too.

We sat there quietly talking for a while, gazing out over the valley, the dim light from the quarter moon revealing enough to hint at the glorious view that would greet us in the morning. When we eventually retired, I was still so full of excitement from all that had happened and didn't think I'd be able to sleep. But as soon as I lay down, I felt the tiredness of the long day catching up with me. There was a deep joy and peace in my soul as I drifted off to sleep praying, ‘Thank you... Thank you...’

Copyright © 2025 Barry Jackson