Sacrament Focus - Eucharist

Wining & Dining With Jesus

Peter Fleming

So many of our Gospel stories are centered around food. When Hollywood’s master of suspense, director Alfred Hitchcock, wanted to disorientate his friends by playing a practical joke on them, he would invite them to dinner, then serve a meal in which every item of food on their plates was blue. Later, when asked why he had dyed the food blue, he replied, 'Because blue is the one colour food is not.'

The cunning old fox knew that if you wanted to disturb a person, introducing something untoward into a friendly meal is the best way; and the reason for this is because meals are generally friendly. They are occasions for bonhomie and the sharing of affection; possibly they are a time of reconciliation; almost always they result in joyful satisfaction. Even at the saddest wake, an abundance of food and a good drop of wine can bring consolation and promise of better times ahead.

It is amazing how often food – its supply, its distribution and occasions of eating it – features in the Gospels. Jesus goes and has a meal with Zaccheus, a sign of that corrupt tax collector’s conversion. Many of his pointed social teachings happen when he is a guest in someone’s home – just ask the woman of poor reputation who wiped his feet with her tears at Simon the Leper’s banquet (Simon the Leper – and Jesus ate his food??). The Samaritan woman who comes and bugs Jesus when he’s having a vacation likens being taught by him to receiving crumbs from the master’s table. And of course there’s the feeding of the five thousand and the feeding of the four thousand, with so many leftover loaves and fishes that the local industry must have trembled.

And when Jesus isn’t using food to make a point, he’s not reluctant to teach a lesson over a good cup of wine or two. Remember a certain wedding at Cana? Jesus miraculously transformed six jars of water, each containing 20 to 30 gallons, into wine when his mother Mary noticed that spirits were flagging. If the party guests imbibed that little lot, their spirits, far from flagging, would have been well and truly flaggoning!

In the gospels, food is understood as a necessity, is used as a sign of charity, is often discussed symbolically and ultimately is transformed sacramentally. Food is at the heart of the simplest petition we make in the Lord’s Prayer – we ask for ‘daily bread’, and it means the necessities of life. When Jesus likened himself to real food and real drink (Gospel of John, Chapter 6), he shocked many of his followers by inviting them to consume his flesh and blood in order to gain eternal life. The prospect horrified some, understandably; the teaching was hard – if you’ll pardon the pun – to digest.

It’s ironic, then, that the first mention of food in the New Testament (that is, if your taste is not for mixing locusts with wild honey!) is actually Jesus’ rejection of it. When the devil tempts him with bread after his 40 days and nights of fasting, Jesus spurns the offer because food is being used to distract him from his spiritual mission. To accept it then would be to accept the comfort that leads to despair, 'carrion comfort' as the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins would call such. After this dramatic episode, virtually everywhere else in the gospels food is a sign of God’s beneficence and of his saving work on behalf of humanity.

If it weren’t enough that Jesus uses food as a symbol of God’s power, he ultimately chooses it as the form of his own memorial: we his followers are to re-enact the Last Supper, that final Passover meal before his arrest and crucifixion, in order for us to come as close as we can to experiencing the end of his time on Earth, no matter which era we in fact live in.

What better way to make his earthly life real to us than associating himself with what was, in the Jewish expression of the Passover, a family meal? It’s a great idea, for three reasons. One, it appeals to the senses. His memorial is not just a mental footnote, something to be read about and assented to; it is a sensual experience. When we eat and drink, our guts are involved, our core physical being is engaged.

Two, meals are events at which experiences are shared. At any significant family meal, we bring our stories, trivial and great. Family legends are reiterated. A meal is an occasion to share the stories that matter even as we pass around the basket of bread. Three, a meal around a table lends itself to ritual, an orderly process which enshrines the memorial and keeps it in a trusted form, across generations. And if the table happens to be a Christian altar, the meal takes on the added force of a wake – and an awakening.

St Paul, who is probably the first man to put into print the story of the Last Supper, railed against his followers who became drunk and disorderly before the mystical words were spoken: 'This is my body...This is my blood'. The Mass differs from raucous Christmas or birthday lunches because of what is being remembered – the death of a righteous man who was the sinless sacrifice for our redemption.

The Mass is not simply solemn. It has phases, and has a variety of tones. The fact that Mass is enacted all year round allows it to celebrate the spiritual seasons and encompass the whole Christian story. But there is always awe and reverence at the Eucharistic prayer. There is no laughter then, even though there may be a deep and solemn joy.

Eating is a pleasure – yet eating alone can be melancholy. That is another reason Jesus made his memorial a family meal. He wanted his followers to be a crowd. On occasion Jesus may have prayed alone, but he most certainly did not dine alone; the Last Supper was not like a condemned man’s final repast, taken in a morbid cell. It was shared with friends. They were his family, his spiritual brothers and sisters, his fellow inheritors of the Kingdom.

In a sense it was a case of, 'Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you live!'

Seven Catholic Social Teaching Principles

Catholic Social Teaching (CST) is rooted in Scripture, formed by the wisdom of Church leaders, and influenced by grassroots movements. It is our moral compass, guiding us on how to live out our faith in the world.

The CST principles which inspire our work are:

Human Dignity
Common Good
Solidarity
Subsidiarity
Preferred Option for the Poor
Care for Creation
Participation

Our faith calls us to love God and to love our neighbours in every situation, especially our sisters and brothers living in poverty. Following in the footsteps of Christ, we hope to make present in our unjust and broken world, the justice, love and peace of God.

Award Winners

2024

There are no award winners for this edition of the newsletter as we have not had an assembly since the previous edition.