The Redemption Project - Mealtime

You know the story. Or, at least, you've heard it once or twice. In the hours before humanity gets its hands on him, Jesus sits down to eat with his closest friends. They recline on the floor, devour food and wine, talk, and at the end of it Jesus tells them that as often as they do this, remember him.

The traditional view here is that he's talking about the very specific ritual of bread and cup that is instituted during this night. I have this idea that Jesus meant the meal itself. Whenever, he said, you get a bunch of people you love together, sit down, and eat, think about me. Because, I'm there with you.

We had family over this weekend as a Christmas make-up dinner since, last month, the flu interfered with our normal get-together. Leanne made chili, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, and cornbread. We all sat down around the narrow table in our dining room for lunch.

It's quite different than how I normally eat lunch. Throughout the week, I usually have a sandwich of plain turkey and white bread in one hand while I scroll through the news at my desk. I can usually polish off what I've packed up to eat in about fifteen minutes, which allows me to get back to working. In fact, my co-workers find my bland and brief menu rather funny.

There's a bit of sacrilege in what I'm doing, I know. I'm wolfing down the fruit of someone else's labors. I am mindlessly consuming rather than enjoying the food I'm blessed to afford. In addition, I'm elsewhere.

During lunch on Saturday, my often distracted brain wasn't off in ten different moments, it was in the current one. I was busy listening and talking, being mindful of our guests who might need more to drink or another roll. And even as I was devouring the food before me (preparing for company made me hungry), I wasn't doing so in my usual mindless fashion. I was aware of the taste, the smell, the texture of what had been prepared.

What does this have to do with the redemption of all things? I can't say I'm entirely sure, but that this simply act of sitting down with others, satisfying one of our basic needs is a means to that end. It can't be unimportant since, with so little time for things, the Incarnate One made mealtimes a priority, even going so far as to tie his memory to them.

Perhaps, it's nothing more than that basic need I mentioned above. We're mortal, fleshy humans who require food and drink to keep moving, to stay alive. Maybe, sitting at a table with each other, we show that mortality, confess it to those with us. We are, for just a moment, present with one another as dependent, needful beings.

Somehow, I know I'm closer to redemption then than at any other moment.