The day was drawing to a close, and the twelve came to him and said, ‘Send the crowd away, so that they may go into the surrounding villages and countryside, to lodge and get provisions; for we are here in a deserted place.’ But he said to them, ‘You give them something to eat.’ They said, ‘We have no more than five loaves and two fish—unless we are to go and buy food for all these people.’ For there were about five thousand people. And he said to his disciples, ‘Make them sit down in groups of about fifty each.’ They did so and made them all sit down. And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.
When we lived in Victoria, I never really knew how many mouths I would be feeding come suppertime. The Lilypad, which was what the students named our home, was a bit of a drop-in center for university students and other young adults involved in the UVic Catholic community. Having food available for anyone who dropped by was a ministry of joy as far as I was concerned and it seemed like no matter how many came along on any given day there was always more than enough to go around. It was wonderful to have these young adults at our table. There was lots of laughter and the meal would always end with a bit of scripture and some discussion. Sometimes the sharing and discussion went on for a long time.
At other times the students would use the Lilypad to get together for things like small group meetings, potlucks, birthday celebrations or just parties for no reason at all. At every gathering, food was an indispensable part of the agenda. We rented out a suite downstairs to Catholic students and sometimes both my kitchen and the kitchen downstairs would be hubs of creative cooking and laughter. Making the food was as joyous as consuming it.
When we were chaplains, we started the “Soup ‘n Soul Café”. Every week I made soup for 40 and after the late afternoon students’ Mass on Sunday, we would all gather for soup and buns after which there would be a short talk and discussion.
When I think about any vibrant community I have ever been involved with over the years, I don’t have to dig very deep to pull up good memories of sitting at a meal with the people in the community. I’m sure all of you have had exactly the same kind of experience: where there is ‘family’ there will be food. From small gatherings of our own families and relatives, to smaller groups we belong to within our parishes to parish potlucks to weekend retreats, it is at the table that we forge deeper bonds with those around us. We don’t really think too much about that. It’s just something we do.
Well, I’ve been thinking about it. I started writing a reflection on the Body and Blood of Christ last Saturday, intending to talk about God’s abundant provision but the whole time I’m wondering, “Why? Why is eating together so important and why has it been so important to all people of all times and all cultures? Jesus fed the 5000 - was there more to it than just showing the disciples and the people the amazing provision of God? Jesus told his disciples to organize the crowd into groups of fifty. Was this simply for logistics or were small communities of faith forged over the food that was provided and in the discussions that must have followed?"
Yes, I know, we can bring up all sorts of reasons as to why it’s nice to sit down to a meal with other people but in the end I have to conclude that it is a mystery of God. It’s a mystery because it’s so visceral. It has never been legislated or made law but community has always been centered around the sharing of food. To welcome you to my home I don’t automatically think of lending you all the books in my library. I’m probably not going to insist you take some of my furniture. I’m certainly not going to offer you money as an act of welcome though I may offer it if you are in need. What I will offer you is food. Even a cup of tea between two friends somehow speaks of the value of that friendship.
My son went to Viet Nam and made his way into the hill country where he met hill tribes, a venture certainly not open to tourists at that time. These people were very poor and my son quickly learned that he should not stay with one family too long because they would kill the chicken in order to feed him – and most only had one chicken.
We were created to eat with one another and to share our food as a symbol of our commitment to each other. We were created to share all that sustains us. Even atheists cannot resist the urge to share their food and to make food a center around which they sit face to face and speak of all that matters to them and laugh with one another. We could not have been created without that gut instinct because it is the central nature of the God who created all.
There is a Latin saying that goes, ‘Bonum est diffusi evum sui.’ Translation: 'It is the nature of goodness to diffuse itself.' God is pure goodness and his whole will and desire is to feed us and sit with us at table to laugh, share and to ponder on what is truth, what matters and what doesn’t. His whole movement is toward nurturing and sustaining us; he offers everything he has that will feed us. He offers us himself, his Body and Blood and says to us:
“Take. Eat. This is my Body. This the food of my Home offered to you and to all who gather at my table. Take. Eat. The journey is long and the night is cold but inside by the fire of my Spirit all are welcome. Take. Eat. There is plenty more where that came from.
You are always welcome to come for the meal - there is always room for one more at the table. Look around – all your friends and family are here too. Isn’t that glorious? We can all laugh, pray and hear one another’s sorrows. Outside there might be a chilling wind but in here, we can be warm in the presence of each other. As we break the bread and share the meal, we make sure everyone has enough. Everyone cares for each other by sharing the food I have provided.
Take. Eat. Love. Stay for a while. And when it’s time to go, take some with you for yourself and to share with those you meet on the road.”
It’s a mystery, another mystery flowing out from the Trinity Home. We can try to explain it and define it but in the end, it is simply because the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are keeping the home fires burning for us and because we are eternally welcome at the table. That spirit of welcome and sustenance overflows onto all so that very few can resist emulating the love of God poured out as food for his people. They may not understand where it’s coming from but it’s there deep in their spirits.
A very good friend of mine had a profound faith experience when she attended a Mass during a Lenten mission at a parish on Vancouver Island. Father Nigro, an elderly Jesuit from Gonzaga University in Spokane, was celebrating Mass and after the words of consecration, he held the Body (or the Blood) up high and when he brought it down he said, “Thank you! I love you too.” Through those 6 words the table became real, the food tangible and the love evident. Sometimes we need something like that to move us from the ordinary to the extraordinary and to remind us that the Eucharist is at the same time both natural and supernatural and that we are honored and welcomed - welcomed home for supper.
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