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February 16, 2006
"God Be With You Until We Eat Again"
Last night, Paige and I cooked two huge pots of Italian Sausage Soup as dinner for our hungry small (read, twenty something people) group. After everyone had finished eating and we settled down for our Bible study, our leader, Henry Henegar, remarked that eating together has an almost sacramental quality for Christians.
Henry reminded us that Jesus, after His resurrection, was recognized by his disciples when he "broke the bread" with them. And in Acts 2:42 we read, "They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer." In the early church, food and fellowship were tied closely together; the daily reality of our physical need for sustenance intertwined with worship to the One who provides.
Noel and I both grew up in families that emphasized the ministry of food and hospitality. At my church in Honolulu, the congregational motto could be summed up as "God be with you until we eat again." Since getting married, Noel and I have made a practice of having Covenant students over for Sunday dinner on a regular basis. (Before he moved, our friend Jason alternated hosting duties with us.) It is not the most elegant of settings. With twelve of us packed around the table in our mismatched kitchen, demands for personal space fall to the wayside. But, we make a point of making the food special or, at the very least, a celebration of not being in the cafeteria. We've had a Chinese feast, a gourmet pizza extravaganza, spicy curries, savory soups and stews, and a spread of desserts. And the conversation always delights, rolling from smaller clusters to tablewide discussions on the day's sermon, politics, culture, the church, future plans, or tales of childhood derring-do. There is something intimate about feeding others. The food meets such a basic need, but somehow it also becomes a conduit of grace. There is rare concord in conviviality.
Not to say that it always comes naturally. My introverted self grows weary at the thought of my house flooding once again with people; my cautious purse balks at the thought of once again buying food for fourteen. But once I am cooking, I am delight again in a rejection of gnosticism and asceticism. The rhythm of cutting and preparation, the aroma of garlic and onions sizzling on the stove, and the steaming, colorful spread set on the table are good things, things rich with anticipation and joy. The food and companionship of Sunday dinners and Wednesday small groups foreshadow the greatest feast to come, the wedding banquet of Christ and His bride.
(I hope there's sushi there).
Domestic , Faith , Grub , Woman, Woman, Woah-man | By elissa | 03:59 PM
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Comments
I'm pretty sure there will be sushi in heaven. Eel in particular...
Posted by: justin at February 17, 2006 12:19 PM
this post hearkens to babette's feast mentale.
Posted by: tacyjane at February 17, 2006 12:43 PM
man, i miss Sunday evening dinners...
Posted by: Luther at February 18, 2006 12:50 AM
Justin, thanks for the vote of confidence! I also think that everyone's tastebuds will be made new and perfect, enabling all to appreciate the wonders of eel sushi.
Tacy, I confess that I had to google to get your reference. Do you recommend this story/movie?
Jason, not to make your mouth water or anything, but we had fabulous bowls of ramen with a homemade soup base and colorful toppings last night. ;) We miss you at dinner, too.
Posted by: elissa at February 20, 2006 04:36 PM
