I probably
shouldn’t read Scriptures or write meditations when I’m hungry. I just read the passages for tomorrow’s Mass
and the image I’m getting is a “High Standards” sandwich, with grace in the
middle and a little grace for dessert.
It sounds like the perfect menu choice for a hearty, faithful appetite
looking for hope and confidence in God’s love for us!
The book of
Wisdom (Wisdom 1:1-7) challenges us to seek justice and integrity. Yet this call to high standards includes in
it a sense of the grace available through the Spirit. We are not on our own in this challenge.
The Responsorial
Psalm (Psalm 139:1-10) offers the hearty protein of the
sandwich. We can be confident in asking for and
expecting God’s guidance. Savor the
assurances here. God is before us,
behind, us and around us. His hand is
upon us. We are His children. He is our God. These graces offer the sustenance and
assurance to contemplate and ask for continued grace to tackle those hard
challenges in the first and last readings.
We get to
another set of high standards in Luke (Luke 17:1-6). We see how Jesus loves us and wants us to
help one another. He scolds to warn us
about leading one another astray and sets a very high standard for forgiving
one another when we do stumble.
Our response
may match the disciples’ response to these challenging messages: “Lord,
increase our faith!” Jesus assures us at
the end of the reading that God provides all we need to do what is asked of
us. Our challenge is to believe it – to
really believe it. I am often like an
exasperated child, quick to despair. I
want to be more like a mature child, confident and obedient in the guidance and
gifts provided by a loving God.
I need
to savor that Psalm several times today.
Thinking
about my “High Standards Sandwich” reminded me of an idea I once had. I don’t know if it’s an original idea or
not—and I hope it’s not sacrilegious—but wouldn’t it be a great idea for a
religious themed light-fare restaurant called “The Last Supper”?
All
profits could be used to help the poor in the neighborhood or city where the
restaurant was located. The employees could all be volunteers, so no
salaries would impact the profits available to help the poor.
Their uniforms
would reflect the fashions of the first century. You would be greeted at the door by the ‘Blessed
Mother’ or ‘St. Peter’. Then, either ‘St.
John’ or ‘St. Mary’ (the sister of Lazarus) would lead you to your seat. ‘St. Martha’, ‘St. James’, or ‘St. Paul’
would take your order. It would be brought
to the table by ‘St. Paul’ or one of the other ‘Apostles’. Obviously, your bill would be brought to the
table by ‘St. Matthew’, with the tip and taxes already calculated for you. If you doubted the accuracy of your charges,
that would be handled by ‘St. Thomas’.
If you want
or need to talk to the 'Manager’ ('Jesus'), a priest would be on hand to hear
confessions in an adjacent chapel either before or after the meal.
There could
be an “RCIA Night” each week with Catholic apologists on hand to answer questions
about the Church’s teachings.
The décor
would be simple. Long cenacle-type
tables with benches only on one side and olive trees (I understand that they’re
pretty prevalent around Jerusalem), and different verses of the Good News
either carved in the rafters or printed on the menus—especially those that
remind us to love one another as Christ loves us.
The music
could be either Gregorian chants or contemporary Christian tunes.
The
restaurant would be open only during Lent and Advent. These are the two liturgical seasons that
have a special focus on repentance and reconciliation, prayer, fasting and
almsgiving; hence a “light fare” menu consisting of soups and sandwiches like
the “High Standards Sandwich” would be appropriate.
Reservations
would NOT be necessary, and no one would be turned away, even if they couldn’t
afford to pay. Those individuals would
be asked to help prepare or serve the next meal or wash dishes.
Like I said,
I probably shouldn’t write these meditations when I’m hungry.
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