Bread is the mystery of our existence. That
is why Christ teaches us to pray for our daily ration. One cannot
imagine a more practical request. Without nourishment in the mystery of
our existence, we die.
My reference is visible bread,
smellable bread, chewable bread, bread that will become waste. All true
mystery is a down-to-earth business. Only as we begin to appreciate
our given metaphors for what they are in
themselves do we begin to appreciate their corresponding realities.
Sometimes we emphasize a theology of spiritual bread to the extent that
we de-emphasize a theology of physical bread. We counter the nature of
the Incarnation when we do. The worst of the blunder is that we exalt a
lopsided Christ. Sad to say, we who believe in the Incarnation can be
as tempted by abstractions as anyone else. Unless we return again and
again in faith to the tangible edges of everyday mystery, we disrespect
the substance of things not seen. -- Gregory Post & Charles Turner,
"The Feast: Reflections on the Bread of Life", pp. 3-4
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A doctrine of bodily nourishment is rampant in
Holy Scripture. The fact that the Lord feeds his people is
demonstrated throughout both Testaments. The theme is easy to overlook
because it seems so mundane. Having designed our bodies to require
fuel, the Creator provides that necessity. His benevolence here is
consistent with the pattern of grace in which the demands of his law are
met by the provisions of his gospel. -- Post & Turner, "The Feast",
pg. 4
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Nothing says "home" more appealingly than the
earthy frankincense of bread fresh from the oven. A peasant comes home
from the field and the promise reaches out through the open door. A
stockbroker returns in the evening to his high-rise condo and finds it
transformed by the same miracle of basic domesticity. The second
example is less likely than the first but, thanks be to
God, still possible. Mennonites tell us that the surest way to sell a
house is to have bread baking in the kitchen when prospective buyers
arrive. The aroma of bread triggers a mood of shelter and sanctuary.
Perhaps that is why it welcomes so warmly those who are away from home,
be they dinner guests from across town or wayfarers from a distant land.
-- Post & Turner, "The Feast", pg. 5
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The goodness of God is not abstract when we sit down to eat. It doesn't have to be Trout Margery at Galatoire's in New Orleans. It can be a hamburger and fries at the local McDonald's. It is visible and tangible. It is tasty.
The Creator routinely meets us on a sensual level. Food is provided for our pleasure as well as for our nourishment. Pleasure, along with every gift that comes down from the Father of Lights, is holy - until indulged in outside his holy law, and then it becomes an end in itself and not an avenue for his glory. There are warnings against gluttony, of course, just as there are warnings against that kindred selfishness called adultery. But we trip into the ancient heresy of Gnosticism when we think of physical pleasure as having no spiritual substance. It is precisely because of imbedded spirituality that rules and signals are necessary. The Christian who thinks of all physical pleasure as "worldly" blunders as profoundly as the hedonist. -- Post & Turner, "The Feast", pp. 32-33
