By Christian Bergmann
The topic of ‘home’ has occupied much of Western literature. One of the most ancient poems we have, Homer’s Odyssey, tells the story of a man fighting to get home through odds incalculable, even battling the gods themselves who do everything in their power to oppose him: seducing him, drowning him, slaughtering his crew. Our modern epic, The Lord of the Rings, tells the story of hobbits, who live a quaint and homely existence - they tend gardens, brew ale, celebrate together, and do not wish to be taken away from this under any circumstances, especially not for nasty adventures.
Part of appreciating ‘home’ is our ability to leave it. We go to work and return home to the comforts that are the reward for our labour. Having spent time away from family, we get to return to the arms of the ones we love.
One of the things I hope doesn’t happen during this quarantine is that we begin to resent what our homes and families mean to us, now that we are forced by law to remain there. There are no adventures to be had. For many there is no labour to be done.
Let me suggest, though, that this might be the perfect opportunity for us to rediscover one of the most central and foundational elements of home: food.
I remember hearing someone once say: “Show me how you eat, and I’ll tell you your deepest beliefs about the world.” Hyperbole? Yes. Definitely. But, there is a principle there worth reflecting on. The reason the Scriptures tell us that God will judge us according to the things we have done, is not because God is a nit-picking Police Officer of the Divine Law. It’s because our actions are the deepest demonstrations of what we believe. What God wants to do is transform us from the inside out so that what we do coheres with what we believe. Otherwise words are just words.
How we eat is no exception to this. If I spent every night of the week ordering takeaway, my life would be made a lot more convenient, but it would be lacking a number of different things: the feeling of reward for labour; the joy other people have in tasting what I have prepared; the opportunity to expand my skill-set; the experience of food as ‘edifying’.
Gathering together to feast is one of the most basic ways in which people commune. This is how we build families. This is, also, one of the instinctive responses of people in the Old Testament to the presence of the Divine. Think of Genesis, when the three strangers (or angels) appear before Abraham and Sarah. What is their natural instinct? Prepare a feast (Gen. 18:2-7). When God forges a covenant with his people on Mount Sinai, what do they do after performing the sacrifice? They feast (Exodus 24:11). Sacrifice in the Old Testament was always accompanied by a feast. This is one of the reasons why we can appropriately refer to the Eucharist as a ‘sacrificial meal’; except, it is God himself who provides the feast for us.
This was also Jesus' tried and tested method of welcoming strangers, tax collectors and sinners, whilst at the same time scandalising the religious establishment.
My point here is that food is basic: so basic even God cares about it. One of the ways God tries to revive us, sometimes, is by taking us ‘back to basics’. Maybe this quarantine can be an opportunity to revive this most central element of communion and family-building. Maybe we can start putting work back into our food; making it better and tastier than ever before. Celebrate and appreciate this most basic, delightful thing. God cares about it. We should too.