BALLSTAEDT BREAKFAST - THE TRUTH ABOUT FOOD

Elder C. had a smile on his face when he arrived at our little Jinja bungalow on a sweltering Ugandan 'transfer-day' afternoon.  I couldn’t imagine why he would be happy about leaving the beauty and cool sweet air of Ethiopia where he had served over the last 6 months; or how anyone managed a smile after a 3-hour ride in the back of the mission van bumping along on treacherous pot-filled roads. Especially Elder C!

Okay, so I know these guys only like me for my cooking.  But as I pulled the bag of left-over waffles out of the freezer for them to devour in the van for the next leg of their journey, he surprised me again.  A moan.  He actually said: “oh I miss this place, it has good memories.”

Well my memories of Elder C. were different.  I remember slaving over a huge dinner for 30 missionaries one fine Sunday afternoon only to have him tell me he didn’t want to eat my food or he would get sick.  That comment further seemed to reflect his attitude about everything in his life.  I assessed his body language that night several months ago as he mulled about with all the other uniformed Army of God boys; all tall, thin, dirty from the dust; but clean. He had hunched like an old man, or a missed note in “Called To Serve”.  

I plainly saw in front of me a hard childhood for an African boy suffering from malnutrition, disease, and in his case the untimely deaths of parents and family.  It showed in his shoulders, his bony body, his sad eyes.  “I don’t want your food” he said.  

“You can’t love me” he really said.

But today the words on the hunched body were different.  He looked older, wiser; was glowing and telling me how he had kept his calendar with him the whole time in Ethiopia that had the date on it when he had come to our little missionary apartment for the Wednesday morning breakfast to eat waffles hot off the grill. “I’m so glad to be back for the waffle breakfast”  - as though that’s all there is to look forward to in Jinja.  

“I’m a happy person and I know who I am” is what he really said.

Wednesday morning breakfast in Jinja home with the Bugembe Elders.  (Elder C on left center)

Okay, so I give these guys one breakfast.  One in an entire transfer.  Hey it’s flour with eggs and milk; it’s not turtle soup....but that brought to my remembrance a truth.  The truth about food. The kind of truth that Jillian Michaels wants to purge out of your brain. 

The truth about food is that it’s not about food, it’s about our abundance and blessings.  And it's about sharing your blessings with your friends and your guests.  It's about how when someone comes to visit, they know you will offer a drink or a small treat.  Even in a country where they have very little to give, they share their food to respect their guests and to reflect  who they are; children of God.  

When Heavenly Father put Adam on this earth He told him he could eat anything he could grow out of the ground or find running around on the ground.  Or; anything he could find in the sea and the air.  Heavenly Father stocked the earth plumb full of food.  And in this country where I live they relish even the locusts that swarm during the harvest season.  You could never run out of locusts.  The earth itself provides one big perpetual feast.  In Uganda there are not so many choices, but there is still abundance.  

And in turn as Gods children, we pick what we want out of what He provided and we share it together, even in humble circumstances.  They don't have fine china or silver in Uganda, they eat with their hands in what we would consider a dog bowl.  But they share their abundance with love.

It really came to life for me one day while watching an obscure movie I rented from blockbuster called “Babettes Feast” set in Denmark  - and with subtitles - one night many years ago. It was an odd movie, and it was slow, but very powerful; it taught truth.  It is a movie rich with Christian metaphor, but the lesson I learned from the movie happened at the “Feast” that Babette had prepared for her friends.  

It wasn’t how Babette spent weeks in loving preparation for one meal (that she paid for by winning the lottery). No, that wasn't the miracle of her feast; it was what happened to the guests as they sat at the table and were served the food.  

The spinster sisters and other pious guests had set a life course of stoic sacrifice and were determined that they would let nothing bring joy into their lives; especially not the gift of deliciously prepared food.  They were sure that God would frown upon their moment of weakness if they did not hold fast to their stern suffering and self-denial.  

But as the food touched their tongue, it touched their soul, and they visibly softened, relaxed, and melted into a freedom they had never known in their lives where they were allowed to be happy.  They were allowed to feel God’s love, and the joy in Christ’s sacrifice. They changed because of one meal.  It was profound, (and I don’t even remember what the food was except the turtle soup).

Babettes feast can be interpreted as a metaphor for the Last Supper which we celebrate as the event where Jesus invited all his friends to dinner one last time because he knew he would be leaving.  We remember that he fed them, and he washed their feet.  We remember that feast each Sunday with the sacrament.  But the tradition of the literal religious feasts of the old world has become a metaphor for our invitation to feast on the words of Christ because we all know what a feast is, we all know it is more than the food.  A feast has always been about the soul.

It’s about the joy of Heavenly Father allowing us to enjoy His bounteous blessings. That is the truth about food.