My First Feast

The first time I feasted, I was a 5th grader at University Lutheran in Grand Forks, ND. Preparation for the feast began with a cooking class that set out before us the ingredients needed for the meal. Head Chef, Pastor Weber, and his assistant, a 20something recent graduate from Luther Seminary, with cookbooks in hand, prepared a room of awkward 10 year olds and their parents for Sunday's meal. Reading the story of Israel's flee from Egypt, I asked Chef Weber if we had to use unlevend bread like the Isrealites did...they said no. Hearing the Assistant Chef share Luther's explanation of Holy Communion, someone asked if he had the whole caticism memorized...he said no.

I don't remember much else from the class, other than a story from the assistant chef involving deer hunting in western North Dakota, which, for me at least, didn't connect. I didn't see any venison on the menu. After what seemed like an extremely long class in a cold Sunday School room, we went downstairs to sample the meal--we were reminded that this wasn't our first feast, but just a chance for us to taste the stale round circles of unleavend wheat and sip the red wine purchased by the altar guild at Happy Harry's Bottle Shop. It was the first time I had tasted wine, and I felt a little strange drinking in church.

That Sunday, the meal was different. Dressed in a beautiful, allbeit uncomfortable grey velvet dress, my family sat in the front with the other students. Along with my grandparents, including my pastor grandfather were invited to come to the meal first. The table was set, and we were kneeling, just as I practiced. Though I had reached out my hands from the age of 4, hoping someone would serve me, this time, Head Chef Pastor Weber, placed the waffer and cup in my outstretched hands, and I dined with Jesus. Like a meal served in a 4 star restuarant, it satisfied my hunger and thirst.

Last night, I once again experienced a first feast. Searching for the appropriate place to have a feast in our home, Jeff and I transformed a prefab bookshelf into an altar with the wooden cross we received after becoming members of our current church. In the kitchen, I took part of a stale English muffin and placed it on a clay plate. Franzia, our cheap boxed wine, was poured into a crystal wine glass we received as a wedding present. Holding last week's breakfast food and 1/4 glass of cheap wine, I felt as out of place as my 10 year old self training for the feast. Then, I spoke the words, broke the muffin, made a sign of the cross over the wine. The BODY of Christ, along with the Body of Christ, were transformed, united, satisfied. What was once truly common food became something more.

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread.

Pastor Tracy