After the morning worship, which was rich with the collective dreams and visions of the night before, we walked up the hill for breakfast. Depending on how you’re used to eating, you would either love or hate the breakfast at Taize: one white roll, one thin stick of dark chocolate, a pat of butter, a packet of jam, and selection of powders to mix in hot water to make the beverage of your choice. I took two scoops from the bucket of instant coffee, one each from the buckets of hot chocolate and dried milk, and made the richest mocha on earth. It helped. Breaking the bits of chocolate in the bread and dunking them til it grew soft and melty helped. Morning broke and with it a new willingness to receive whatever it was that Taize had to offer. Our first Bible study would begin after breakfast and I was eager for the opportunity to learn. This was my greatest delight, to draw from the wisdom of those who had gone before— from the prophets and the apostles and all the saints and scholars who had done their time with these texts— to add it to my own, and to find a way to pass it on to those for whom the door was still shut.