The Meal Is The Gift Of Life

by Eric Elkin

“You will be drawn back to this meal again and again until the Master returns. You must never let familiarity breed contempt. You will be drawn back to this meal again and again until the Master returns. You must never let familiarity breed contempt.”

— 1 Corinthians 11:26 (The Message)

How would you describe 2020? I’ve been thinking about this as we head into the one-year anniversary of the unthinkable cancelation of in-person Easter worship services. My heart ached when the final decision was made to only offer a video option. When the Vatican suspended their in-person Easter celebration, I realized we really were in this together.

The words working their way through my mind are “denial of services.” 2020 was about the denial of services. The first taste of restrictions happened with the onslaught of the Great Toilet Paper Famine. I wonder how many people still have not used all the toilet paper they hoarded a year ago.

We also experienced shortages of hand sanitizer, bleach cleaner, dry goods for cooking, and empty grocery store shelves ushered in the next wave of COVID-19 induced scarcity. People were denied their office workspace, freedom to shop unencumbered coffee shops and brewpubs. The need to drive quickly evaporated into thin air.

All the services we were denied were things we took for granted. Some of them we rarely used before COVID-19. Before the pandemic, people (even hospital staff) were not great about washing their hands. A church member criticized me for the decision not to meet in-person. I wanted to point, he had not been in church since Easter 2019.

“God has a plan for how to start anew…In those places and times of hardship, it seems appropriate to think about the newness and change and hope that comes when God takes twigs and makes cedars.”

— Tyler Mayfield

The denial of services with the most significant impact has been our inability to dine together. The closing of restaurants rightfully grabbed all of the headlines. Yet, pandemic-induced restrictions on eating extended far beyond these establishments.

Last summer was the first time in almost 100 years my wife’s family did not have a family picnic on the 4th of July. Thanksgiving dinner was tiny and depressing. Five people sat at five different tables, quickly eating so we could get our masks back on. We didn’t even cook a meal for Christmas.

Someone gave money for a staff appreciation luncheon. We delayed the celebration until later. What is the point of the gift if we cannot dine together? Conversations with members that once happened around a table disappeared. Subsequently, relationships critical to forming a healthy community failed to develop.

There is hope woven into Paul’s words. A hope we probably glossed over in previous years. There is a meal waiting for us that we will not be denied from sharing. A meal we “will be drawn back to…again and again.” The wildest thing about this dinner is the host is dead. And, we eat to remember his death. What joy or hope can be found in that?

We eat to remember death does not have the final word. The words we share at the table become our hope. It is for this reason previous generations gathered to dine while bombs fell on London. When the world was devastated by the bubonic plague, people came to the table, again and again. We come to the table because this is one place where there will be no denial of services. The gift we receive is life. So please, come and dine, again and again.

Click to read 1 Corinthians 11: 23-26