In a recent university lecture, Mae Joseph, a poet and lifestyle writer for Architectural Digest, began her presentation on food as if setting the table with a centerpiece of spirituality. She said, “Food, having a meal, is a sacred encounter; a blessing upon all who gather. But, if the meal is not encountered mindfully, it is a curse… To consume without asking or to take without giving in return is pillage.”
Then, drawing on her Indian background, she explained how, in the Hindu tradition, the Goddess of Food warns that eating food which is not first offered to the gods and to the servants who prepared the meal and wait on table is to consume poison—a “pillage feast” that, instead of nourishing, lays waste to a people and culture.
We can add our own spiritual bouquet to Mae Joseph's centerpiece: the Jewish and then Christian custom of the tithe—offering first fruits to God before storing the goods for yourself. Likewise, the Christian Eucharistic, translated Thanksgiving, Meal celebrates God's offering of first fruits—Jesus Christ—The gift of God for the People of God. And the Apostle Paul has about as much to say regarding food as does the Hindu goddess. Paul exhorts all persons to prepare themselves carefully before coming to the meal. For as the benefit is great if we partake of the meal faithfully, “so is the danger great if we receive it improperly.”
The Book of Common Prayer takes up Paul's admonition: “Examine your lives and conduct… that you may perceive wherein you have offended… being ready to make restitution for all injuries and wrongs done by you to others; and also being ready to forgive those who have offended you, in order that you may be forgiven…” (Prayer Book p. 316-317) All this takes place before the meal because nobody invites an enemy to dinner. If you do, you are either a hypocrite, which turns the food and you to spoil; or you are embracing the sacred nature of the meal and have offered or accepted the invitation as an act of reconciliation—a true banquet of most heavenly food. The meal is an occasion of community building, a holy communion.
Sharing a meal is thanksgiving. Across the ages and from one people to another, the encounter in the receiving and giving of food-gifts opens up a personal intimacy and extends a promise beyond the meal.
In our country, on the Feast of Thanksgiving, people used to be thankful to God for seasons of growth (hopefully, we still are). But in those fondly recalled simpler days gone by, people were also thankful for the neighbors and friends who grew and harvested the crops. In these days of the WTO, do we thank our Chilean friends for the delicious brussel sprouts, our Guatemalan neighbors for the melons, the shrimpers of Thailand who supply us while our Gulf waters have not yet calmed down enough? Why, even the ingredients for something as American as apple pie can have fruit from another country!
So, what does it mean to give thanks in our changing “transglobal” world? Are we happily setting another place at the table? Or, as we are being characterized by many throughout the world, are we Americans “anxious gorgers” fidgeting in our seats, “distended before the plate of abundance”? (Mae Joseph) Is our meal a thanksgiving, or are we eating to forget? When we gather at table on Thursday, will we remember our War in Iraq ? The 100 New Orleans families shipped by the Federal government to the JFK Radisson Hotel who have no more FEMA rent assistance as of December 1 st ? The poverty of the working poor, children and seniors who are the very ones blighted more by the 2006 proposed budget cutbacks?
A meal is not just a pleasure, it is a promise. Nourished by gifts gratefully received, people of faith promise to give themselves, thankfully, in response. Every meal is the Feast of Thanksgiving, potentially. Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Hanh, citing the geopolitics of eating, in the midst of the sacred nature of meal, calls for mindful consumption—lest we eat our country, our children, our earth.
To eat is not to forget.
To eat is to remember and to imagine.
We Christians call this Real Presence. We remember Jesus Christ whose self-giving is Great Thanksgiving. We are made mindful, in receiving the food of thanksgiving, the blessed bread and wine, that we are soul-strengthened and body-nourished through the flesh and blood presence of Christ with us. And we prayerfully imagine the possibilities of this Real Presence, carefully committing ourselves to Christ's compassion. Having feasted with Christ, we promise to give ourselves—our flesh and blood—as bread and wine, as taste of Christ offered to others; and not just at this Eucharistic Feast.
Every meal is sacred encounter.
Every table is altar of thanksgiving, set with heavenly food for the sharing now.
In the Old Testament reading today, the prophet Ezekiel hands down God's indictment of the shepherds, the ancient Kings of Israel. This serious charge resounds to any generation when the leaders of the nations take supposed counsel for the benefit of trade and economies but do so at the expense of their sheep—the people. In light of the dispersion of peoples across the globe due to market pressures and political intrigues, Yahweh, the Good Shepherd, promises to seek out the scattered and exiled sheep and gather them together, putting an end to the ill effects of diaspora. God will feed the people, give them rest and security, and provide protection and help to all who are weak or injured. This should not be understood as some sort of divine care package or compensation for a hard life. Rather, God is promising to see to what the earthly leaders were supposed to be providing all along. These are not heavenly consolations; these are the very basics of human community and the dignity of every person. That's why Kings are anointed and Presidents are elected. But they have become self-aggrandizing shepherds; that's why the indictment is brought against them.
Ezekiel doesn't stop there. The prophet tenders a second indictment against fat sheep—rich and powerful people who throw their weight around making sure they get food and water, even if it disadvantages the weak. The Day is coming, the prophet declares, the promises of justice and equity are not just words to soothe until the end of time. Rather, God is sending someone as executor of justice in the land. The Day is coming: judgment for those who exploit; mercy and compassion for the weak and vulnerable. God is sending someone.
God sends Christ. As the Son of Man, the Advocate of Humanity, Jesus did not align himself with leading thinkers of the day, the pious religious, the popular or the powerful, but with the least—the hungry, thirsty, lonely, sick, naked and imprisoned. We cannot eat our thanksgiving meal without committing ourselves to the compassionate care of these.
In Matthew's description of the judgment of the nations, faithfulness is characterized by care for the needy. Real faith is always active in love. Service to the needy equals love for Christ.
God sent Christ. Christ sends us. Today's Gospel of Christ the King enthroned in the vulnerable and lowly needs to be heard as God's call to us now rather than a picture of some awaited future judgment day. We must never forget; we eat the bread and drink the cup of Thanksgiving remembering that the Church exists primarily for the world and its welfare and transformation. Whatsoever we do for the least of our sisters and brothers, anywhere in the human family, we are doing to Christ. If you don't thank the South American farmer, then you don't thank Christ. If we participate in underpaying the Asian textile worker, we are stealing from Christ. And generous outpourings in response to calamity, though laudable and necessary, are inadequate. In the last year alone, high percentages of tsunami, hurricane and quake victims were already on the margins of society and existence. God's call to us through Christ is not to occasional acts of charity but to work consistently and compassionately for justice in society in order to eliminate or reduce the causes of hunger, thirst, sickness, poverty and imprisonment.
We are baptized not just as members who belong to the church but as disciples of Christ who must go out. In gathering at this Eucharistic table, at any table, it is not enough to give thanks, we must be thanks.
The trajectory of today's Gospel arcs back to the Sermon on the Mount. Both accounts illustrate an ethic, a way of life that feels beyond our abilities. Yet, we need to take heart. Do you remember what Jesus says when he sends out the apostles? “I am with you always.” Jesus was with his disciples, walking the streets teaching and healing, when they themselves misunderstood him. He was at table with them at the Last Supper when one of them left to set betrayal in motion. As he hung on the cross, he forgave them their fleeing. As he rose from the tomb, he loved them. He did not let his disciples failings curtail his compassion for them; so too with us.
Jesus Christ is really present. That's why we can give thanks in the midst of war and want. In Christ's presence, we eat our Thanksgiving meal, in sacred celebration with God and with all people.
Amen.
© Thomas F. Reese November 20, 2005
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