I like to watch movies about food.
The
other night, Penny and I watched a Netflix documentary called, “Spinning
Plates.” I think nearly everyone will find something to like in the film.
It tells
the story of three restaurants and the people behind them. Hard-working, loving,
creative people.
Each
restaurant is different. Breitbach’s Country Dining, in rural Iowa, has been in
the Breitbach family for four generations now. La Cocina de Gabby is a Mexican restaurant in Tucson.
Alinea, in Chicago, was named the Best Restaurant in North America and received three stars in the Michelin Red Guide.
Spinning
Plates reminds me how important food is.
A meal
unites people. A restaurant staff works hard—16 hours a day or more--and in
unison to prepare the food and serve it. Diners come together to enjoy
the meal. A meal sustains people. We must eat to live. A meal is often the
setting for celebration—a wedding anniversary, a graduation or a baptism.
A meal
can also be a way to find support in a hard time, such as after the death of someone
close to us. People often gather after a funeral for a reception or a formal
meal. We remember the departed, telling stories of him or her; and often that
person seems alive and present. We hug and cry and sometimes laugh. We share not
only the food, but also our grief, and we gain strength from one another for living with and
through loss.
In the Gospels,
notice how many times Jesus and his disciples are having a meal—at the wedding
feast in Cana in Galilee, at the miraculous feeding of the five thousand, at
the Passover on the night before his death; and, then, at the breakfast by the
shore when the resurrected Jesus appears to his grief-wearied disciples during a
meal of grilled bread and fish.
Meals
not only nourish us physically but also spiritually. Watch Spinning Plates and see
how food brings life, how a meal transforms people and communities. (“Babetts’s
Feast” is another of those films that is about far more than food.)
For
Episcopalians, the greatest meal--and one infinitely superior even to a meal at
a three-star Michelin restaurant--is the Holy Eucharist.
In the Eucharist, the Living Christ, our host, welcomes us. We come to the table needing nourishment and companionship, his and one another’s. He feeds our spiritual bodies with the Word of God (the Scripture readings and the sermon) and with the bread and wine, which become the living presence of Jesus through the power of God the Holy Spirit.
In the Eucharist, the Living Christ, our host, welcomes us. We come to the table needing nourishment and companionship, his and one another’s. He feeds our spiritual bodies with the Word of God (the Scripture readings and the sermon) and with the bread and wine, which become the living presence of Jesus through the power of God the Holy Spirit.
As our physical bodies are enlivened through a meal, so our spiritual bodies are
enlivened through this spiritual meal of the Holy Eucharist.
Even though you’re meeting your physical needs, you’re still missing something, and you can’t quite articulate it.
Even though you’re meeting your physical needs, you’re still missing something, and you can’t quite articulate it.
A sense
of wonder? A connection to something bigger than you yourself? The
experience that you are loved unconditionally and forever? A feeling of
belonging? Hope that is beyond this world? Purpose outside of the ordinary? Wealth
that never loses value, but always gains it? Peace that passes all
understanding?
You won’t need a reservation for this holy meal. You’ll always find your place at the Lord’s table. And although there won’t be any spinning plates, the meal served here from that silver paten (and chalice) will be one that will satisfy your deepest hungers.