Written on March 28, 2008

[For the April 6, 2008 lectionary: Luke 24:13-35]

"A.E.M." by Larry Patten

Barack Obama wants to break bread with me. I said yes to his dinner invitation.

OK, it’s not just me he wants to have dinner with, since his invite was e-mailed to maybe 500,000 people. Or more.

OK, it’s not so much that he wants to have dinner . . . at least not at first. Instead, his request was for me to contribute money to his campaign. Doesn’t have to be much money. A few dollars is fine. Then—maybe—I’d be one of four people (out of the thousands that contribute) chosen for the aforementioned bread breaking.

It’s a campaign gimmick.

And I succumbed. I was gullible. I was foolish and intrigued and gave permission for my credit card to zoom $30 towards Obama’s presidential primary efforts. Hey, Larry Patten, the mojo contributor!

Actually, I think Obama’s idea—or his staff’s idea—is clever. Yes, they get saps like to me to send a little money. But, as best as I can tell, four “random” and “average” American voters will break bread with the senator from Illinois. It’s a gimmick that works well with twenty-first century technology. Simultaneously, zillions of people can receive the “invitation.” Because of the Internet and credit cards, it will produce a lotta bang for the buck. And, without a doubt, it will get some “good” press.

At its heart, though, it is something simple and transformational. It works in the twenty-first century and in the first century. A meal. Breaking that bread. Folks across a table.

In the last week my wife and I celebrated our anniversary. What did we do? Among other things, we had a “special” dinner.

What is one of the earliest events that I remember about my delightful life partner? She invited me over for a home-cooked meal. (Little did I know then that she didn’t like to cook and, years later, I would do 96.3% of all the grocery shopping and cooking.) And I still remember that meal. Pizza Rustica. Delicious.

What is a common bond of all the church backpacks I’ve led over the years? Meals. I recall one wild trip, with fifteen hungry kids growling for breakfast, when endless pancakes were created over two cranky one-burner stoves. It took hours to serve everyone. But there were smiles all morning long.

Meals aren’t all smiles and happy times.

Though it’s a stereotype, it’s also probably true . . . what does the condemned-to-die prisoner get just before the walk to the gallows? The last meal.

What’s one of the first things mythical Adam and Eve do in the garden of earthly delights? Eve hands Adam “the fruit of the tree.” A snack! The first meal. While an apple is usually the “default” fruit for the sinful sample, I like to think it was an avocado. Most apples appear tempting: pleasant sight = excellent taste. But an avocado is gnarly and unappealing; not exactly the “apple of the eye.” And, once you carve it open . . . oh, that pit! But the moment Adam or Eve tasted it . . . whoa! No wonder the Creator was hoarding Holy Guacamole for His or Her Divine Self. But after a bite, Holy Anger!

Easter is bracketed by meals. Jesus, and the disciples (like those death row inmates), will eat a last supper. Then, after the resurrection, the encounters with the Risen Christ include more meals.

In John, of course, several of the disciples “come ashore” and find Jesus. Doing what? He is waiting, with (John 21:9) “a charcoal fire” and “fish on it, and bread.” Another last meal is shared. Of course, in John’s Gospel, one of Jesus’ last requests to Peter is “feed my lambs.”

But my favorite A.E.M. (After Easter Meal) is at the end of the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35). Where does that road end and also begin? At a table.

The Risen Christ, unrecognized by two frazzled disciples, joins them on a journey. Following the long day’s walk, the two invite the unknown One to a meal. I unabashedly love Luke 24:30-31:

When he was at table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him . . .

Table is where our faith can be nourished and shared. After Easter, and its always after Easter, one of the best things to do is sit at table with another. Break that bread. Let the crumbs fall, the drinks spill, and find a way to simply share.

I wonder if Barack Obama will call me for a hot date? (And, in the “personal” e-mail I received, he promised to fly me to the rendezvous!) Well, I probably won’t be chosen. And yet I will still be thankful for the next meal . . . with a loved one, with a stranger, with one person, with many, where there are moments when eyes are opened and I see that Christ, ever present, sits across from me.

in Peace,

Larry