Some years ago, I wrote that, “In its most profound sense, the Eucharistic banquet is not only a saving and sacramental meal, it is food for the journey, spiritual nourishment, a common meal with brothers and sisters, an expression of hope in the future, and a foretaste of the Kingdom of God where all people are invited to the Heavenly Banquet.” (Take and Eat: Reconnecting to God, Community and Creation through the Food We Eat”. Page 2) That statement came near the beginning of a larger work that delved into the global climate crisis by reflecting on the Catholic understanding of the Eucharist. Since the time that I wrote that back in 2009, a much larger portion of society has learned about the food-farming-global warming connection, and they have taken steps to change. For example, alternatives to animal food products abound, and those who still eat meat and dairy products have reduced their amount of consumption and sought out humane suppliers. Organically grown vegetables and fruits are now available in most grocery stores. In other ways, nothing has changed. The poor most often live in ‘food deserts’, the nutrition of foods in food pantries or offered to school children is sketchy, and more and more people are eating alone or on the run. In a final blow, the pandemic turned the Eucharist into a spectator meal on a screen.
In our pre-pandemic life, my husband and I would eat once a week at a local restaurant. Our dinner out came after a long day that included our weekly trip to town for grocery shopping at the food co-op, as well as other errands. We got to know the restaurant staff and enjoyed being greeted by name and visiting with the owner when she was there. It was a weekly ritual that served a purpose and helped us to maintain connections in the community. When the pandemic lockdown began, we immediately stopped going out to eat. For several months we only had groceries delivered. Then the food co-op began offering curbside pick-up which allowed us to continue supporting them. We did not venture back to our local restaurant until after we were vaccinated and felt safe going inside to pick up food that we pre-ordered. It was delightful to be recognized, even with our masks on, by staff members who were still working there. They have opened up tables outside with the good weather and have offered a few tables for those who want to eat inside, but we never stay. We bring our food home. It seems like the safest way to manage with the new variants. We still get to see people but don’t have to risk indoor-close-contact with people we do not know well.
A few weeks ago, I went back to church for the first time. I wore a mask. Not everyone did. I felt uneasy. The priest wore a mask part of the time, as did the other Eucharistic Minister. Wine was available only to the priest, which reminded me of pre-Vatican II days. I was glad to see people, but I was hesitant about getting too close. By the next time I went to church, the CDC was telling vaccinated people that masks weren’t necessary. I wore one in but took mine off as the group of people I sat by was unmasked. It felt awkward. At the sign of peace there was confusion. I bowed to some people, but others wanted to shake hands and I felt obliged and then felt bad that I had not shaken hands with everyone. By the next week guidelines were changing again. The priest announced that masks needed to be worn inside. People were advised to shake hands only with family members. Since the congregation includes the elderly, people of color and children – all of whom fall into the higher risk category, it is hard to feel at ease. I think, “I would prefer take out” and then I am embarrassed by the thought. It is such a minimalist way of thinking about the Eucharist.
In this week’s reading from the Gospel of John (John 6:41-51), Jesus says: “I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate manna in the desert, but they died: this is the bread that comes down from heaven so that one may eat it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven, whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.” I do believe that we receive Jesus in the sacrament of Holy Communion, but I am no longer certain that we are obligated to receive the Sacrament weekly in a large gathering with people we don’t know very well. Jesus did not say we need to eat day after day as the people in the desert had to collect and eat manna to fulfill the needs of their bodies. We know that the Eucharistic does not satisfy the hunger of the body for nourishment because we need to eat day after day – several times. The pandemic dispensation taught us that receiving Eucharist is optional. I know that the clergy are trying very hard to get the faithful back in the pews, but something has changed.
Earlier in John’s Gospel, Jesus expresses some frustration that people came to him for ordinary food after he fed the 5000, rather than understanding that what he offered was so much more. I am old enough to remember when people did not receive communion frequently, when the obligation was to go to mass weekly but only to receive communion at least once a year between Easter and Pentecost. That came from a completely different theological perspective. I would hope that we are expanding our idea of what it means to be active followers of Jesus, from simply going to church to receive Communion on Sunday, to fully embracing the way we live in the world day after day. The mission that Jesus sent his disciples on was one of healing the sick, feeding the hungry, freeing the captives, and basically, working for justice in the world. Living lives that are just could be the “daily Eucharist” that our world really needs. If the Eucharist is food for the journey, we should be going somewhere other than just back for more.
My pandemic time out has made me wonder about the way that we have organized our religious life. Perhaps our common meal should be the work of ending hunger by feeding our brothers and sisters in the many ways they need to be fed. Maybe, if there is to be hope for the future, we must take seriously the work of caring for creation. In the desert the Israelites were warned not to take more manna than what they needed for the day. Certainly, enough spiritual nourishment has been consumed in our own lifetimes to fuel a transformation and healing of epic proportions.
Maybe we should try it out sometime.
Thank you. I appreciate your comments.
Gee, nice picture from the past. K