Let us break bread together on our knees.
Let us break bread together on our knees.
When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,
O Lord, have mercy on me.
Let us drink wine together on our knees.
Let us drink wine together on our knees.
When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,
O Lord, have mercy on me.
I’ve always liked this Spiritual. It is traditionally used by many as a communion hymn, for obvious reasons. The ritual of sharing the bread and wine in Christian worship is honoured with the humility of partaking on one’s knees. It is a powerful statement of our smallness, and God’s greatness. And very meaningful for many who adhere to this belief system. Quite beautiful.
But as I thought about these words and the haunting music, I found myself drawn to the history of this African-American Spiritual – and how it speaks to our communities, our friendships, our fellowship.
While it is not certain, there is speculation that this song originated with slaves from West Africa. The line, “When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,” is said to reflect the West African tradition of the sun being the source of spiritual light. There may also, as in many Spirituals, be hidden in these words an indication that a secret meeting is to take place, “when I fall on my knees.”
For me, these are important ideas. The words provide us with guidance to humbly, on our knees, eat and drink together. Whether we do so in a spiritual sense, or simply socially, the request to do so is deeply felt. And deeply invited. We need our communities. They carry us. Even when we are forced to meet in secret. Or perhaps more common for most of us, when we seek out those with whom we have common experiences, challenges, pain, compassion or empathy. We carry us.
And then we face the rising sun. I can’t imagine a more beautiful image. Seeking mercy in the light we all share each morning. Whenever I travel, I am struck that I share the sun and the sky with every single person on this planet. The sun is life for all. On our knees we can see its brightness, feel its warmth and share its illumination. This is a spectacular mercy. A reminder that we may commune in small ways, with small groups of friends, family and religious or spiritual communities, but in reality, we eat and drink as a whole world. When we fall on our knees in the radiant sunshine, we are asked to consider that the meal is not ours alone. It is shared.
The sunlight reveals where mercy is needed. It allows us to lift our faces together. And shows us how when we do, we see each other.
Beautiful and so meaningful!
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