“It’s About Family, Food and Togetherness”
7/1/2007
By Michael Southall-Vess
Luke 22:14-27
This year, the popular show “The Sopranos” will end. A recent news article pointed out tourists are flocking to sites associated with the show and grabbing anything that is not nailed down. One of those sites is a go-go bar, which was named Bada Bing! on the show. One of the tour bus visitors was Paul Rickard of Inverness, Scotland, who says his rabid devotion to the show has little to do with the mob-related plot lines. "It's about family, food and togetherness," he said between sips from a beer. "The mob is just a job, a distraction. Despite scenes of extreme violence, the show is about love."
I don’t know that I agree with him that the show is about love, but I can definitely understand his interest in family, food and togetherness. In a fast-paced, busy society, alienation and loneliness can make even the Soprano family look inviting. I also think Mr. Rickard has a point when he suggests that who we pause to share a meal with, who we take a moment to listen to, speaks of the reality of who we are and what life is about, whether life is about violence or about love.
As a child growing up in the South, I had a favorite day of the week: Sunday. Not because school was out, but because of the special activities on Sunday. Each Sunday morning, I would get up, put on my Sunday clothes and go with my grandmother to Sunday school and worship. I liked Sunday school, especially at the end of the lesson, when my Aunt Grace would pass out Milky Way candy bars to all the students. I highly recommend this method of evangelism, despite my present weight. (In all seriousness, a great Sunday school teacher is someone who offers something to the students that makes them want to come back next week.)
Church was a different matter. It took several Chiclets and pens and a lot of paper to get me through the worship hour, but I always knew what would happen after worship: the highlight of my week -- Sunday dinner at Grandma’s. It happened every single Sunday, no matter the season or weather. My extended family would gather at Grandma’s for a feast.
My grandmother’s home had a kitchen with an eat-in bar and a formal dining room. The adults sat at the large mahogany table in the dining room, while the children sat on barstools in the kitchen. The meals were always elaborate. There would be two meats ( usually roast beef and chicken), green beans, mashed potatoes, salad, cooked carrots, beets, home-made pickles, and on and on. Then came dessert, which often included pies and cakes. The beverage was sweet tea, and when I say “sweet,” I mean one-and-a-half cups of sugar per gallon. This Sunday dinner wasn’t simply about meeting nutritional needs; it was an experience that affirmed who we were. We are family. Though we go our separate ways during the week, each Sunday, we were drawn together and reminded of the love and the ties we share.
My grandmother died this year. She asked me what I wanted from her estate before she died. I said I wanted the dining room table. I never had the chance to sit with the big people at the real table, but I understood what it meant and how it symbolized who we were.
Today, we remember a special meal Jesus shared with His disciples. He told them He looked forward to sharing the Passover meal with them. Jesus wanted the Seder meal to be the center of his disciples’ minds when they remembered Him. We tend to remember first and last experiences with someone. Interestingly, the Seder meal was something that Jewish families shared in their homes. It was not celebrated at the temple or synagogue. It is a very intimate and warm experience reminding the Jewish family of their relationship to God and one another. Jesus didn’t go to his home to the family dining room to share the meal with His mother and father. Instead, He called his disciples, both the men and women who were for the most part unrelated and, through that meal, caused them to realize that they were now family. God brought them out of the bondage of sin into new life with Christ and joined them together as family.
Somehow when the Lord’s Supper moved from the home into institutional settings, it became more difficult to see what is being said. Often, it seems to be simply religious ritual -- not the Sunday dinner Christ has invited us to. There is a little girl in my wife Marable’s church named Anna, who is 2 years old. Every communion Sunday, she doesn’t want to leave the rail, because she wants more bread and more juice. She wants more time at the table with her family. You see, at the Lord’s Table, it is about family. It is about food (both physical and spiritual), and it is about togetherness. We need this time of retreat and refreshment to be able to go back into the busy world, always knowing that we are part of God’s family. The Lord’s table is different from my grandmother’s dining room table, which only had eight chairs. There is seat at the table for every person at the Lord’s table, and it doesn’t matter what your last name is, because Christ has opened the door to all men and women.
Today, as we gather around the Lord’s Table, things are different. One of the family has moved and is now serving in another place. Things are not the same. Now some distant “cousin” from North Carolina stands before us ready to share the meal. We have mixed emotions. We are thankful for the familiarity of those around us and for the time to share with one another. Yet, some of us feel sorrow and grief as we experience separation from brother Ed and our sister Nina. Others worry about how things will be with the new pastor. In this time of sharing God’s holy meal, we once again affirm that Christ is present with us and that God affirms each and every one of us as part of the family. God is not only here now in the present, but goes with us into the future. God loves and cares for us throughout life until we gather at God’s heavenly banquet. On that great day, there will be much rejoicing, for everyone will be at the table. Thanks be to God. Amen