1 Corinthians 11. 23 – 26
John 6. 51 – 58
Corpus Christi
Fr Alex
I wonder if you’ve read the book, or seen the film, ‘Babette’s Feast.’ Babette is a celebrated French chef who gets caught up in the Paris riots of 1871. Her husband and son are killed in the fighting, but Babette is helped to escape to Norway, to a small, remote village inhabited by a strict Protestant sect.
The charismatic founder of this religious community has died, and his two daughters, Martine and Philippa, have taken over the leadership; but over time the members have become divided with petty jealousies and infighting.
Babette throws herself on their mercy, and the community takes her in as their cook in return for food and lodging. They have no idea who she is, and she assumes the nature of a servant.
Babette is instructed only to prepare the simplest and plainest food, so that the community may keep themselves focussed on higher things, without the distractions of the world.
Life for Babette takes on a simple regularity for some years until, one day, close to the hundredth anniversary of the founder’s birth, Babette receives a letter – the first one since her arrival there.
Ever since she left Paris, a friend who remained there has continued to buy her a lottery ticket; and she writes to tell Babette that she has won 10,000 francs.
The leaders of the community, Martine and Philippa, assume Babette will now return to France and her old life. But no – Babette asks that she be allowed to prepare a meal in celebration of their father’s centenary, and that she pay for the meal from her winnings – and that it be a French feast.
Martine and Philippa reluctantly agree, but as the day draws nearer, and delivery after delivery arrives at the kitchen door, the whole community becomes anxious about this extravagant feast. So they take a vow that they will attend, but they will make no comment at all concerning the food.
Also in attendance will be an old friend of the founder, and her nephew, a grand general in the army, who wish to celebrate with the community on this anniversary.
The day arrives, and the members of the community, dressed in their stark black, take their places at the table. The general in his splendid red army uniform joins them.
The general, accustomed to the finest things of life, but expecting this evening only thin gruel and a crust, takes a suspicious sip of the wine he is served. “Amontillado!” he says, “and the finest Amontillado that I have ever tasted!” He takes a small spoon of his soup. “This is exceedingly strange!” he said to himself. “For surely I am eating turtle soup – and what turtle soup!”
Even champagne is served, and the general continues his excited commentary on the food and drink. As the meal goes on the general realises he is eating dishes that were legendary among the diners of Paris, cooked by the capital’s most celebrated chef.
His neighbour, remembering the community’s vow, simply looks at him, smiles politely, and makes a remark about the weather.
But eventually even his fellow diners become overwhelmed by their experience. Tongues are loosened, friendships repaired and rekindled, and they begin to share a new kind of togetherness, as a result of this glorious meal.
Babette, meanwhile, remains hidden away. Refusing the opportunity to return to her grand life in Paris, she has found the greatest fulfilment in her new life as a servant – and she pours all that she has into this one meal.
…
It is a wonderful book and a beautiful film. And, for me, it is a powerful contemporary parable about the great gift of the Eucharist – the focus of our celebration this evening.
The community failed to see who Babette really was, and what she could do for them. But she was revealed to them in her gifts: they beheld her in her costly and sacrificial outpouring of herself, and they were enabled to experience her as they had not done previously. And as their eyes were opened, they were transformed by that experience.
They didn’t ask for it: they didn’t look for it. They didn’t even deserve it, in their brokenness and division… but she did it for them anyway.
And this is what Christ does for us. Hidden from our sight, he pours himself into a meal that he has prepared for us, his great gift of the Eucharist. He makes himself truly present to us, and we are enabled to experience him in a new and wonderful way. Little by little, our minds and our hearts are opened, and our lives transformed.
Not because we’ve asked for it, or because we’ve earned it; in fact, he gives it to a humanity who constantly rejects and denies him in so many ways. But he gives it to us freely, because he loves us.
At the end of the meal the general stands and says: “See! That which we have chosen is given us, and that which we have refused is, also and at the same time, granted to us. Ay, that which we have rejected is poured upon us abundantly. For mercy and truth have met together, and righteousness and bliss have kissed one another!”
At the end of our service, having received this unlooked-for and extravagant outpouring of grace, we will keep silence before Christ’s sacramental presence. It’s an opportunity to offer to him in prayer anything that is on our hearts.
We do this confident in the knowledge that he is here, amongst us, though we may not see him. We do it in the knowledge that he constantly pours himself out for us in prayer. And we do so knowing that he has the power to transform any situation, no matter how hopeless.
Praise be to Christ, for his most glorious gift. Amen.