April 14, 2024 – The Third Sunday of Easter
Mother Elizabeth Farr
Memory and food.
The two pair together so well.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot with the recent loss of my grandmother – especially with her funeral, as it was, right in the middle of Holy Week.
Nana loved an Easter feast: Ham. Mac ‘n cheese. Deviled eggs. Rice salad. Tomato aspic. Homemade mayonnaise.
Our family text messages this Easter were full of which combination of Nana’s favorites had been on our own Easter tables.
I am sad to report that no aspic or mayonnaise was consumed this year – probably because those of us who love it most all now live in separate households and could not justify making it only for ourselves.
But still, we ate. And we remembered.
Especially about Nana’s desserts.
Her favorite and most decadent dessert was actually a Christmas tradition and not an Easter one. As unique and southern – or maybe even more so – than tomato aspic and homemade mayonnaise, my grandmother loved to make Tipsy Cake.
A family recipe Nana learned from her own mother, this dessert includes sponge cake, blanched almonds, Scuppernong wine, boiled custard, and whipped cream laced with generous amounts of brandy.
I’ll preface this next part with my mother’s own words spoken before she shared this story at my grandmother’s funeral: No judgment please. But there was at least one occasion when Nana was making Tipsy Cake when she invited all of us grandchildren to sample the whipped cream and proclaim whether enough brandy had been added.
The refrain, “More brandy, Nana,” became the stuff of family legend.
Nana and Tipsy Cake.
Food and memory.
“They gave Jesus a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence.”
Jesus knows something about memory and food.
Eating this piece of fish is about more than just convincing his startled and terrified friends that he is not a ghost.
Eating a meal in their presence reminds the disciples how they have come to know Jesus and how they have come to know one another.
Loaves and fish.
Bread and wine.
Meals shared among 5000
and others more intimate.
In the home of Zacchaeus
and in the home of Mary and Martha.
Life with Jesus is about being known at the table and in the breaking of bread.
As new and strange and joyful and terrifying as resurrection is, Jesus eats a meal in the midst of his friends to remind them of the familiar part. You know me in the breaking of bread. This is how we do life with one another – and in the wonder of the resurrection, this is still how we do life with one another. We break bread.
Jesus tells the disciples, “You are witnesses of these things.” So what does it mean to be witnesses of the resurrection? It means that we set the table. And we share a meal. We break bread – as we also bear witness to one another’s wounds and needs. The resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples with both of these things: wounds and needs.
Jesus’ body still bears the wounds of his crucifixion. “Look at my hands and my feet. It’s me,” Jesus says. Jesus shows us that breaking bread in the light of the resurrection does not mean hiding our wounds from one another. That in fact the work of resurrection is showing up in our joy and still sharing our scars. Our scars are the best truth-tellers of resurrection and reconciliation. Jesus invites us not to hide them from one another.
Jesus shares his wounds, and then he also shares his needs, “Have you anything here to eat?” Jesus is hungry. Yes – this meal will be a reminder to the disciples of the life they have shared with Jesus and the ministry to which they are called – but also, Jesus is hungry – and he lets his friends know. He names his needs, and the community responds:
“I’m hungry.”
“We have fish.”
The Risen Christ is made known – wounds, needs, and all – in the breaking of bread.
And the disciples have not made the connection yet – but soon – soon – as the Risen Christ continues to show up and share a meal in their midst – soon they will remember Jesus’ words at the supper in the Upper Room.
Food and memory.
This is my Body.
This is my Blood.
Bread and wine.
This is what resurrection tastes like.
I am made known to you in this meal.
You are made known to one another in this meal.
All of creation is restored in this meal.
This meal that we share Sunday by Sunday. This meal that gives us the strength to go out and be witnesses of the resurrection.
This meal where the Risen Christ is made known to us.
I want to share one story with you about what this looks like – about how the Risen Christ continues to be present in this meal – wounds, needs, and all.
This is a story from a former parish where I served. Ginger was a member of this parish. She and her husband and three boys were active in the life of the congregation – and at some point, Ginger developed celiac disease. She’d had terrible GI symptoms for years and finally received a diagnosis and relief – and this was years before you could walk into the grocery store and so easily find the “gluten-free” section. Ginger quickly learned how to navigate ingredient lists and what to avoid.
This was also years before gluten-free communion wafers were widely used – but with Ginger’s help, we found them and had them ready at the altar each Sunday so she could receive communion because we break bread together.
Her husband’s job moved Ginger’s family out of town and away from their beloved church family. They settled in their new home though and found a new community. Ginger served on vestry and – even before then – tried to advocate for the gluten-free communion wafers that had allowed her to share the meal at the altar.
I don’t know the full story of why this was such a hurdle in the congregation where Ginger’s family attended, but I know that it was one and that the experience was painful and hurtful to Ginger.
Some years later, Ginger’s family moved back, and the family returned to the parish where we had both been. Janice is the name of the deacon at this parish, and Janice had been there long enough to know Ginger before the family’s move.
The first Sunday back, Ginger came to the altar with her family at communion. As Janice approached, distributing the bread, Ginger leaned in, and quietly began to say, “My family was here before. We’re back now. My name is Ginger, and I need a gluten-free. . .”
Janice gently squeezed Ginger’s hand before she could finish her sentence. “I know you, and I know what you need,” Janice said.
And the resurrected Jesus was present.
Right there at the altar.
Bread. Wine.
Wounds. And needs.
“I know you, and I know what you need.”
This is the meal we share.
Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”
Year B – The Third Sunday of Easter – April 14, 2024 – The Rev. Elizabeth Langford Farr
