The bread rolls through my fingers crumbs slowly swallowed up by the bolus of the dough. I roll it flat, transfer it to the oven - the high heat blasts my face as I open the door, hot enough for a burnt offering. If I was the bread how would I feel? The sudden rush of heat kissing me like an ecstatic shock, complete transformation. Not an offering that burns up but one that returns to you. An offering of simplicity, of trust, of pure burning presence. I offer it to God; She offers it back to...