God Who Tastes

There’s a reason I saved this one for last.  I have never, ever heard anyone preach, teach, or even speak about the God who tastes.  In some way, I think it’s too difficult around which to wrap our minds.  We can wax metaphorical about sight, sound, and touch.  Admittedly, smell was a little more difficult.  But taste is so completely human.  It’s hard to create a sense of spirituality around something so common…

Interestingly, though, if we’re going to embrace the trinity, where Jesus is certainly one of the three; we might have more evidence of a tasting God than any other sense.  How often do we find Jesus around the table?  A lot…

Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners (see Mark 2).

Jesus presumably eats with his good friends: Martha, Mary, and Lazarus (see Luke 10) and a random guy he finds in a tree (see Luke 19).

Jesus feeds hoards of people with almost nothing… twice… (see Matthew 14 and 15).

The last thing Jesus does with his twelve disciples is to share the first Eucharistic meal (see Matthew 26), and then he becomes the Eucharistic meal… which is fascinating, since he also teaches that we are something of a food additive… salt of the earth (see Matthew 5).

Peter writes that we can actually taste the goodness of the Lord (see I Peter 2).

Jeremiah suggests that we can eat God’s words (see Jeremiah 15), and the author of Hebrews backs it up (see Hebrews 6).  Ezekiel takes it literally (see Ezekiel 3).

Why don’t we ever speak plainly about the God who tastes and… related… the God we can eat?  I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s because we’re afraid of the same repercussions that Jesus faced in John 6 or that the Catholic Church faced in light of a misunderstanding regarding cannibalism!  Seriously… I have no idea!

But clearly, in this search for holistic spirituality that encompasses physical sense as well as mind and spirit, taste is not to be excluded.

Gathering to eat together is one of the most vulnerable, intimate things we can do.  This past week, I learned that there has been a recent study regarding the impact that eating the same foods, with others, has on our relationship and interactions.  One observation from this study was, “Food is about bringing something into the body. And to eat the same food suggests that we are both willing to bring the same thing into our bodies. People just feel closer to people who are eating the same food as they do. And then trust, cooperation, these are just consequences of feeling close to someone” (read the whole article, here).  It’s incredible!  I wonder how we might cooperate more quickly, efficiently, and effectively if we were all eating Jesus!

L.

My Heart Hurts

I’m honestly not sure how much more my heart can take, this week.  It is raw.

It’s Sacramental Saturday at FGT, and I am dumbfounded, because I spent hours, yesterday, worshipping with people from my tribe who are deeply devoted to worship that includes (and is very often centered around) the Eucharistic meal and the grace it imparts, instituted by Jesus, commanded of us if we seek to both properly remember his death and go out, filled with his life.

This morning, one of the first things I saw was an angry message indicating that I do not, in fact, respect or take the Catholic Church seriously, because I participate in the Eucharist.  After doing my very best to answer this concern with grace and love, I just sat down and cried (OK…  let’s be real…  I didn’t actually wait to cry.  I cried as I typed the response.  Then I cried some more.  And some more.  And some more.)

I would think that I’m pretty close to out of tears, but they just keep coming.  Some have been good: Some have been terrible.  At the very least, the floodgates are damaged, but I am beginning to think they have washed away, altogether.

But at least I’m broken.  It’s necessary if we want to be like Jesus.

L.

It’s the Ash

We have an altar at our house.  That’s normal, right?

I was recently at a conference, where I found myself seated at a table filled with people who would all describe themselves as sacramental.  I knew, within seconds, that I was going to be way out of my league when it came to conversation about the sacraments, but let’s be real… that has never stopped me before.  I dove in with a question about how we might encourage our Protestant churches to embrace more than two sacraments.  Asking questions is a risk, especially when you are surrounded by highly educated people who have no idea who you are.  I generally ask questions to gain insight into what other people think, unless it’s a question like, “How do I make this stupid computer do (fill in the blank).”  If I’m asking that, I really need to know…  But if you ask a question, people assume you don’t know.  That’s cool.  I’m a ‘take one for the team’ kind of girl.

At any rate, questions are often answered with questions, and I found myself trying to defend confession as a sacrament.  This was a huge misstep on my part.  If you’re Protestant and you have an opportunity to defend one of the five Catholic sacraments that are not ordinarily recognized as such in Protestant circles; you should always pick anointing!  I know this, and still I was like, “Let’s talk about confession (people I don’t know)!”  Great move, L.

Well, it wasn’t too long until I was shot down and decided to keep my mouth shut for a minute. 

Dominical institution?  Of course.

Means of inward grace?  Yep.

But there is no outward sign for confession.

Fast forward a couple of weeks…

Our altar at home started out as just the wooden bench that we picked up years ago… for pennies… at a Salvation Army sale.  When we added the crucifix (itty bitty as it is), all of our Protestant friends just about died.  The rest began to come together piece by piece, and not long ago our ash pyxis arrived in the mail. 

Around this time, I realized that I actually needed to dust some things, so I sort of took the altar apart and then began to put it back together… The crucifix… the paten and chalice (Eucharist)… the oil (Anointing)… the baptismal font and holy water (Baptism)… The pyxis—the ash…

It was after midnight, when in our little house, I exclaimed, “It’s the Ash!”

Could there be a better outward sign of confession?  Of penance? Of our lives, completely broken and burned away to nothing because of sin?  Of our corporate need for forgiveness?  Of our systemic responsibility to those whom we have come to view as dispensable?

In the time honored words of Charlie Brown, “That’s it!”

Ash Wednesday…  May we stand in solidarity, recognizing that we are all formed from the same dust.  We need grace to rise.

L.

An Open Table

As I was driving to meet a friend for breakfast and coffee, earlier this week, I was going over some thoughts for a podcast recording about the Eucharist, in which I was about to participate (the recording is linked at the end of this post).  This passage kept rolling through my mind:

Proverbs 3:27-28, “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.  Do not say to your neighbor, ‘Come back tomorrow and I’ll give it to you’—when you already have it with you” (NIV).

Ironically, when I sat down at the coffee shop a little early, breakfast sandwich and mocha in hand, these very verses were part of the daily office.  You can’t make this stuff up.

This has me thinking about grace, and specifically about the grace God imparts when we join together, in community, to celebrate the Eucharist, remembering what Christ did for us and becoming the body and blood, ourselves—becoming the people of God—as we consume…  well, God…

My friend, Erin (actually, she’s who I was meeting, so the story grows in hyperbole and irony), who is a super great practicing Catholic who puts up with my sacramental Protestantism on a regular basis, describes the Eucharist in terms of the very real presence of Christ entering into our bodies (I love that!).  She was about to tell me how different my view was from that of Catholicism, recently, when I thought of the only real defense I had.

“My six year old daughter eats the bread and says, 'This tastes like God!’”

Please… oh please… oh please…  May we be Catholic enough to share this meal?

Erin laughed, rolled her eyes just a little bit, and said, “Well, OK…”

It’s funny, because as I was speaking about the Eucharist, during this interview, it was Miah who came to mind again.  She calls it “Community,” because she can’t quite get her mouth to cooperate with the term “Communion” (it might be all the missing teeth).  At any rate, there was a brief moment during which I wanted to correct her, but the truth is, she has it exactly right.  Sometimes kids are smarter than the rest of us. 

The Eucharist is Community.

It is the invitation to be and become a part of the people of God… to be and become a part of the Body of Christ…

And this invitation is for everyone.  How great is that?

Oh, wait.  It’s actually not so great if our tables are small and our pride comes from being a part of an exclusive club.  You know that part when, “Everyone is welcome here…” except the people who don’t do everything in the same ways we do… or think the same thoughts we think… or look like us?  Actually… if you want to be like Jesus… you have to get over that stuff…

Communion might be the best place.

Where else can you share such an intimate relationship with a diverse community of people?

We all eat the same bread and drink from the same cup.  We all become the same body and the same blood, which is really saying something if you think about the ways in which this concept eradicates discrimination.

We have this grace.  It is within our power to act… to share… to serve… 

L.

Listen to the Podcast at This Link

This Started Out as a Post about My Vacuum Cleaner

When people find themselves in crisis; everyday, ordinary things become meaningful.  A friend who worked for FEMA told me this.  In the midst of disaster, it is invaluable when someone hands you a blanket… a bottle of water… a cell phone…  It’s important to be able to do something ‘normal.’

Maybe that’s why I am finding it impossible to function without my vacuum cleaner, tonight.

Please do not misunderstand.  I am no lover of vacuuming.  I remember one Black Friday when there was some amazing deal on vacuum cleaners, and my husband asked if I wanted one.  My answer was yes, but not as a gift.  He could buy me a new vacuum cleaner because we needed one, and because the price was right, but I sure didn’t want to find it wrapped up under a tree somewhere.  Gifts should be special, but there’s nothing special about a vacuum cleaner.  Nobody wants a vacuum cleaner.  Unfortunately, anyone who has carpet in their house does, indeed, need one…

I’m thinking a lot about the difference between wants and needs, lately.  Most children can name the list of basic needs by the time they’re in preschool.  Food, water, shelter, clothing… check!   Interestingly, and especially in an election year in the United States, we add sanitation, education, and healthcare to the list.  I’m cool with that.  Does my vacuum cleaner count as sanitation?  But I think the list still falls short when it does not include community. 

There was a study conducted in the 1940s during which a group of healthy babies had all of their physiological needs provided but were given no affection.  Over half of them eventually gave up trying to communicate with caregivers and died.  Clearly, we need each other.  I wonder what kinds of implications this might have for adults who have given up on communication.  Even when it doesn’t result in a lack of communication with all people, I think we die a little bit every time we lose someone who has impacted our lives in any meaningful way.  That’s crisis and disaster, if ever there was one. 

I can’t claim to be 100% sure how to fix this, but I think it might begin by engaging in the foundational, basic, respectful meeting of needs.  I think it might begin by recognizing that our failures are huge, and we actually can’t fix any of it, at all, but we do have water to offer… and wine… and bread…  I think it might begin by being present.

And it’ hard, friends.  But maybe giving up is worse.

L.