Fresh salmon, huckleberry pie and Holy Communion

I shared a meal last night with my church.

There were more kids than adults, more noise and chaos than silent reverence. There was no "worship set," and the only thing remotely resembling a pulpit was the coffee table that occupied the center of our circle. During our two hours together we laughed, changed diapers (several times!) talked about work, about schedules, about our needs, about freedom.

And we ate.

Every week that we do this I get a little anxious. I worry that there might not be enough to go around, but last night (like every other) there was plenty; fresh tomatoes, zucchini, chicken, steak, salad...

And salmon...

plucked from the cold waters of British Columbia not three days earlier.

And huckleberry pie...

berries picked that very afternoon off the flanks of Mt. Adams in South-central Washington.

After my piece of pie and before my third (that's right, third) helping of salmon, I jokingly suggested that surely this feeling must be what Jesus meant when He talked about the "abundant life." I thought more about my comment today and while still agree with what I said, I'm not joking anymore.

The simplicity of the whole affair obscures its significance. Everyone brought something to the table. Each contribution, in and of itself, was not enough for a meal. But combined, it was tasteful, colorful, filling...

and in some way, sacred.

Jesus told His followers to remember Him by sharing meals together, but we've reduced our observance of that command to a thimble full of grape juice and stale crackers.

Do you think...maybe...just maybe, we're missing something?

I'm not saying that the juice-and-cracker thing is wrong or empty of meaning.

All I'm saying is that maybe the richness of community, and the blessing of God's provision can be experienced just as deeply in wild berries and fish too.