On the road to Emmaus, two disciples walked with the risen Christ and didn’t recognize Him—until they ate a meal together.
“When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight.”
— Luke 24:30–31 (ESV)
It was in the breaking of bread—a simple, shared act—that Jesus revealed Himself. Not in a sermon, not in a miracle, but at a meal. This moment, echoing the Last Supper and anticipating every Eucharist since, also sets the pattern for something else the early Church cherished: the agape feast, or love feast.
At Saint Paul’s Anglican Church, we continue that same rhythm of fellowship each week. Every Sunday after the liturgy, we gather in the Parish Hall for a shared meal—potluck-style and full of warmth, laughter, and conversation. Most weeks, we spend more time around the lunch table than we did in the pews.
For some, it’s a chance to debut a new dessert—especially if special Sunday calls for something sweet. We have bakers known for their sourdough and cooks who go all out with organic, gourmet entrées. There’s usually a fresh pot of coffee, a bottle of wine or sparkling cider passed around, and plenty of stories and updates from the week.
Around those tables, we do more than eat. We encourage each other, swap parenting tips, get advice on work and marriage, share prayer requests and struggles, and make plans to show up in each other’s lives. It’s where the Church continues to be the Church—one bite and one conversation at a time. It is an essential part of our community. Especially in the fast-paced disconnect of Silicon Valley culture.
Why We Do This
Our weekly meal is an intentional Christian practice, rooted in Scripture and history.
The Book of Acts describes the first Christians as:
“And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts.”
— Acts 2:46 (ESV)
These were more than meals. They were extensions of the communion shared in Christ. In fact, St. Paul refers to the agape in 1 Corinthians 11, correcting the Corinthian church for turning the meal into a selfish, disordered event. He exhorts them to eat in a manner worthy of the Lord and to recognize the body of Christ among them.
“For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself.”
— 1 Corinthians 11:29 (ESV)
A Practice of the Early Church
The Didache, an early Christian text dated to the late first or early second century, offers prayers and guidance for communal meals, showing that the Church gathered not only for worship but also for shared fellowship around the table.
Tertullian, writing around A.D. 200, described the Christian agape as:
“Our feast explains itself by its name. The Greeks call it agapè, i.e., affection. Whatever it costs, our outlay in the name of piety is gain, since with the good things of the feast we benefit the needy.”
— Apology, Chapter XXXIX
Though formal agape feasts eventually diminished, the impulse remains. Whenever believers share a meal in the love of Christ, they continue the fellowship and unity modeled by the Apostles and nurtured in the early Church.
What It Looks Like Today
At St. Paul’s, our post-service meal is simple, but it’s always enough. Children laugh. New visitors find a seat. Burdens are shared. Prayers are whispered between bites.
It’s not a liturgy, but it’s liturgical. It’s not a sacrament, but it is sacramental. It’s a small but powerful way we live out the hospitality and communion that Christ first revealed—not just in the breaking of the bread at the altar, but also at the table of fellowship.
So if you’re reading this, consider this your invitation. Come join us this Sunday—not just for the Word and Sacrament, but for a plate of food and a place at the table. We would love to see you there.
