Thought for the week from Roots Resources:
Food is so important for us: for some, it’s just a means of staying alive; for foodies, it offers untold pleasures; for some, it’s an addiction; for others, it’s a means of torture that makes them feel bad about themselves. A lot of money goes into weight-loss research and products, while food manufacturers continue to add fats, sugars and other delightful flavours to encourage us to eat more of what we really shouldn’t. We are told to: eat healthily; to diet or not diet; to fast or to eat a little of what you fancy. We often socialise around food and drink. We go out for a pint or coffee and cake. Special celebrations are marked by eating out.
In the Bible, we see many instances where food is shared as part of a welcome. When Jesus heals Peter’s mother, she gets up to prepare food for Jesus and his followers, perhaps in part as a thank you. When Jairus’ daughter is raised from the dead, she shares a meal with her family (particularly significant as a dead person was considered unclean). Here Jesus uses food to draw her back into her community. She is welcomed back and accepted via food. Jesus eats with tax collectors and prostitutes. In the Gospel reading, the father of the returned son celebrates by killing a fatted calf and throwing a lavish party – rather a contrast to the life he had been living, as a starving swineherd who envied the food the pigs were eating. In our Old Testament reading, on reaching the Promised Land the Israelites celebrate with the fruits of the land.
Is this perhaps the relationship with food that we should be looking for? One that goes beyond our personal relationship with food where we can use food and meals to welcome and celebrate with others? How might we do that in our church community and our lives outside of church?
In St Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin stands the Door of Reconciliation. In 1492, a feud between two Irish families reached its climax in open warfare, and one of the families took refuge in the Chapter House of the Cathedral. When asked to come out and make peace they refused, fearing that they were being tricked to their deaths. The head of the opposing family, desperate to bring an end to the hostilities, ordered that a hole be cut in the door. He then took a chance, reached through and the two family heads shook hands (hence the expression ‘to chance your arm’), agreeing peace .
There is a story told of a missionary who recounted the story of the lost son, and then asked his hearers what they thought of it. They felt that it was a good story, but not realistic: ‘You said that when the son appeared the father lifted his skirts and ran to meet the son. You are known in this culture by how slowly you walk. It’s the lackeys, the working guys, who have to run around. An honourable, dignified landowner would walk very slowly. To pick up your skirts and run? This would never happen!’
Forgiveness isn’t just a word to bandy about lightly. Corrie ten Boom, a survivor of a Nazi concentration camp in which her sister died, told the story of meeting one of the camp guards after the war. The man had become a Christian and asked her forgiveness for the terrible things he had done. Corrie froze, feeling that she could not forgive him. She wrote later: ‘But forgiveness is not an emotion... Forgiveness is an act of will... “Help!” I prayed... I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.’ Corrie took the man’s proffered hand and said she forgave him. Healing release followed. Corrie knew from her own experience of working with those traumatised by the war that ‘those who were able to forgive were able to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives’, whereas those who did not, continued in their suffering. Who does unforgiveness hurt the most?