A Reflection for the Memorial of St. Cornelius, Pope and Martyr, and Saint Cyprian, Bishop and Martyr
Find today’s readings here.
Growing up, we would almost always eat together at the family table. My mom or aunt—or often both—would whip up a delicious meal, especially on Sundays, when there was always a special dessert. (Confession: I’ve got a serious sweet tooth—I don’t think I’ve shared that in these reflections before!)
Sundays were my favorite because we made it a point to wait for everyone to get back from their commitments—work, sports, social events, or church—before we could finally sit down and enjoy a meal and some quality time together. In my even more impatient adolescent years, I didn’t fully appreciate the loving insistence of this time-held tradition. My cousin and I would often get antsy, wondering why we had to waste our Sunday waiting for everyone to arrive just so we could finally eat and get on with our day (which mostly meant playing TV games or retreating to our rooms). It wasn’t until later, as a Jesuit, when Sundays became the busiest day of the week and there was no time to sit around preparing gourmet grub and laughing, that I began to understand the value of the time we shared each week. It was important for us simply to be together as a family—intentionally—and savor each other’s company, perhaps more than even the sumptuous food.
St. Paul’s instruction to the community at Corinth, therefore, resonates literally and deeply with me:
Therefore, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for one another.
Ordinarily, when preparing these Scripture reflections for readers, I would dive into Scripture commentaries and historical context to gain a deeper understanding of the passage. However, today my prayer led me down memory lane, encouraging me to cherish the sublime simplicity of the experiences I once too readily dismissed—even wished away some weeks.
I wonder what might happen if we gave ourselves permission to while away the time and wait patiently until everyone is ready to join us at the table and is ready to eat, drink and be merry together?
I yearn for the return of those Sunday afternoons—even though we have regular meals and laughs together in community now, it’s just not the same as any other day of the week. Those long lunches, where we passed around delicious dishes and sampled a medley of flavors and aromas, from fragrant roasts to fresh salads, and the tempting desserts that followed, were unique. The conversation flowed freely, and lunch would rapidly meld into dinner as we savored the joy of being present to one another. There was nothing more to accomplish that day, even if we kids thought we had important “things to do,” “people to see” and “places to be.”
St. Paul, recalling the Lord’s words at the Last Supper, offers us the profound reminder: “As often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.” It’s worth remembering the hope contained in Paul’s proclamation: that God will come again, fill our hearts anew and restore us to new life. That’s what happened at our family table in Johannesburg; no matter the week or the disagreements we might have had, we were ready to seek new life with each other at the start of a new week. Can we share bread now and do the same?
