Between The First And The Last (by which I mean, lunch)

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” (Rev 1:8)

Today was the last service of the year at the college I hang out at. The last Eucharist and the last evening prayer until September. For some of us, the last time we’ll pray here as students.

Because it’s an ending, God is in it. God is in it as beginning and as what is yet to be, reminding us that the end of something is also a beginning of something else. Because the two are knit together into a whole, being held by God in a reality greater than themselves, they are neither a beginning nor an end – they are both, and everything between and beyond.

Every Eucharist at the college is followed by lunch, which I never go to; somehow my life tends to schedule itself in the way, though I can’t say I’m always displeased. But today I had planned to stay (yay?). Unfortunately, my doctor’s appointment got moved into that spot yesterday, so the best laid plans of Kats (and mice) came to naught. *sadness* and *hungry*

Coming out of a church tradition where food is less than prominent, I’ve wondered a lot lately: what is it with Protestants and food? At my Anglican church, we have parish breakfasts, dinners before worship-and-share, movies with popcorn, coffee hour before and after Sunday services, and a variety of food-based events to mark special celebrations. That reminds me: we have a congregational life lunch coming up – what should I bring?

Today is also my birthday. I’m 27, which a friend of mine pointed out is 3-cubed, a good Trinitarian symbol. As we observe them, birthdays mainly mark the remembrance of a beginning. But they also mark endings and continuation. Again, in this mundane life event, time blurs and blends together, and extends to include more than itself. As in all the ordinary things of the world, the Alpha-and-Omega movement of God can be discerned.

Like church events, my birthday will be celebrated with food. Tonight I’m having pizza (yay!) and cake (yay!!) and some kind of sparkling wine. Tomorrow, I’m having lunch with my boyfriend. And on Friday my friends are having a party for me.

Food is there at the very beginning of our lives: feeding babies is one of the first things we do, even when they show up ten weeks early weighing 2 ½ lbs. Food is there at the end: last meals for the condemned, and buffets at funerals. In the stories of Creation, God is very concerned about what we’ll eat, and at the end, we’re all invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb. Food is everywhere in between: it’s all over the Bible and runs through Jesus’ ministry. It fills each day of our own lives.

Eating is theological. It recognizes the sacrifice made of one living thing that another may have life. By it, we acknowledge and enter into relationship with creation and one another. Sharing it with others is a mitzvah. Offering it to others brings us into communion with God ('I was hungry and you fed me'). Accepting it unites us to God ('Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish'). And in the Eucharist, it becomes the ultimate sacrifice of Love for us.

I first noticed the power of food in the psychiatric hospital with my second roommate. She was totally isolated from everyone when I met her, and I didn’t think it was right: no one deserves to be shunned, even if they are a bit different or struggling. So I started bringing her food to her (catatonic depression makes a person less than mobile) and ate with her. Our interactions made it possible for us to form a relationship that ultimately helped us both.

[Unfortunately, my relationship with food isn’t always entirely healthy. Years ago, a teacher of mine and I had dinner together and then he raped me. It’s never been the same since. It’s something I need to work on. But I digress.]

God’s gift of food to us is a kind of sustenance that goes beyond mere survival. It is a way for people to come together in thanksgiving for all that we have been given and for each other. It forms relationships and bonds, strengthens communities and, taken holistically, gives rise to something truly unique: an embodiment of the beginning, middle and end in a single moment, a glimpse of God in the experience and in each other and, most importantly, a sense that in no time or place are we ever really alone. Because God is there in all of it, and with Him all the love and fellowship we have given and received.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand upon me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one; I died, and behold I am alive forevermore.” (Rev 1:1:17-18)