Theme

About the Author

"Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity." - Voltaire

A couple weeks ago, I went to my parents' house in Buffalo for a long weekend. My brother had just returned from a year's stay in South Korea, and all three of my sisters were in town to welcome him home. My mom and dad - but most verbally, my mom - were overjoyed at the prospect of having all five Devine kids in one place for the first time in over a year. The result, of course, was that the house was filled with food. Jammed with food. Overflowing, even. We had a celebratory cookout in our backyard, to which every aunt brought a delectable treat made with no little or no concern for my waistline. Even the Gospel reading at Mass was food-based - the story of the loaves and fishes - and I wondered if a similar miracle had occurred with the seemingly-bottomless tin of my Grandmother's chocolate chip cookies that lurked on the kitchen table.

On Monday morning, I sat on the back patio with my siblings, drinking coffee and preparing to write this reflection. I was at a loss, not feeling much like a theological whiz-kid, and decided to read the passages out loud to see what my sisters and brother thought. When we had worked our way through each of the readings, I asked what the theme seemed to be. My sister Anne, about to tackle an egg sandwich that my dad had just whipped up, said, "Magic food."

Sure enough, as I looked over the readings, food was the theme - although maybe "magic" isn't the most appropriate adjective to use in a spiritual reflection. Powerful, maybe; certainly necessary, sustaining, revitalizing, nourishing, and comforting. And in the case of the Elijah story from 1 Kings 19: 4-8, even miraculous. Just as Elijah is giving up hope ("This is enough, O Lord!"), an angel touches him and urges him to get up and eat. The food and drink that the angel provides are enough to keep Elijah going on a trip through the desert for that old familiar period of Biblical time - 40 days and 40 nights. Psalm 34: 8 encourages us to "taste and see how good the Lord is," as if God had a flavor like your favorite dessert; the lemon meringue pie that you know will be amazing, just by the looks of its stiff, lightly browned egg-white peaks. Then in the Gospel, Jesus tells us that He is the bread that came down from Heaven - like the church song we all know, he says, "I am the bread of life."

The trick for me in all this food imagery is that, though I have an unabashed passion for good food (I'm telling you - cakes fear me!), eating remains something of a battleground for me. Like so many young women the world over, my healthy childhood attitudes about food were mangled a bit during college. Who knows what the initial cause was; societal pressure, academic stress, emotional need, some combination thereof. The bottom line is that, like a lot of other girls I knew at the Cross, being on my own led to disordered eating patterns. Food stopped representing nourishment and friendly togetherness, and started representing self-control, limits, and rules. Though I was never plagued as seriously as some of my friends, I did reach a point where food - and decisions about food - controlled my life. The nadir of my struggle was a very lonely time, and not a time during which I ever saw God in the breaking of bread.

Thanks to the support and encouragement of my friends and family, in the year after graduation I climbed slowly back onto the road to recovery. I talked to a counselor and my doctor and I worked through my challenges, but I still have to make decisions about food every day. There's no switch that clicks smoothly from "unhealthy" to "healthy," and every stressful situation (a new job, a rocky relationship, life in a new city) tempts me to revert to those familiar, if frightening, habits. Even if you haven't faced issues with eating, it's likely that there's something lurking in your subconscious that sneaks up on you every now and then, whether it's jealousy, self-doubt, depression, or some other wily opponent. Everyone knows what it's like to "pull an Elijah" and tell God that you're about to throw in the towel.

Luckily, God listens. Check out the beginning of Psalm 34: "I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from my fears. Look to him that you may be radiant with joy, and your faces may not blush with shame." Radiant with joy! What a wonderful possibility! Or try the second reading from this Sunday's Mass, in which Paul offers the Ephesians guidelines for living: "All bitterness, fury, anger, shouting, and reviling must be removed from you, along with all malice. And be kind to one another, compassionate, forgiving one another as God has forgiven you in Christ." Ah! What generous permission to not only treat others with compassion, but to do the same for myself! The fear, bitterness, and anger that we hang onto is so often at least a little about guilt or shame. Cut those things loose, and that's when the real healing happens.

So all this talk of bread, all this harping on food and drink - why, it's not about food at all! And all my worries about what to eat and when and with whom - well, those aren't really about food, either. It's about trust, confidence, and knowing that when I cry out, God will be there to help me along. It's the knowledge that, in the same way that good food sustains the body, a good relationship with God sustains the soul. That this food image is all about God's love having those characteristics I assigned to "magic food" earlier: It's powerful, necessary, sustaining, revitalizing, nourishing, and comforting. And in order to trust God, I also need to trust myself. It's a lot to handle, but it's not too much. I love the reassurance I find in this week's Gospel, when Jesus promises that "They (and I include myself in this) shall all be taught by God"-even, I suppose, if the teaching takes months, years, or a lifetime.

In the meantime, when I go home to my parents' house and am surrounded by delicious, mouthwatering, lip-smacking treats, I will sample each one. I'll kick back and eat that egg sandwich that my dad made, on a sesame seed bagel with nice, melty cheddar. After all, what he's really serving me is a breakfast of love, compassion, and patience. I can live on that for at least 40 days and 40 nights.