Family Dinner.
A Eucharistic Reflection
Family institutions are a dying concept these days as we become increasingly individualistic. The nuclear family is on the verge of extinction. Yet, there is a quiet groaning in the depths of our hearts for belonging. There is a burning in our bellies for familial love — for Στοργή or Φιλἐω or, most certainly, for Ἀγάπη.
No matter the brokenness a family might face, there seems to be an unstoppable custom that prevails: family dinner.
Week in and week out, families gather at a table to break bread, to share burdens, to laugh, to watch children grow, to watch loved ones age. Families need not say much, or they might say everything. Most find it best, for that one evening, to check the baggage at the door and commune. Picture your last family dinner. I’m sure there was a tangible atmosphere. How was the lighting? — the temperature? Remember the sounds of clanking dishes and the smells of comfort foods coming fresh to your setting at the table. Those moments hidden away from the outside world, pregnant with coziness . . . that’s what we live for.
The Danes have a word for this: Hygge
Hygge is the concept that has rendered Denmark as the one happiest country in the world for years now. Think warm socks, hot tea, soft lighting, fireplace, and soft rain outside in autumn . . . and you’ve got Hygge.
Family dinner is so Hygge.
When I learned about this word — this concept — I really only thought of one person: Jesus. Jesus is Hygge.
My church partakes in communion once a month; it just so happens that this past Sunday was our monthly celebration. It’s so easy for the Lord’s Supper to become routine religious obligation, and I’ve honestly had moments where I throw back the bread & juice like I’m taking a prescription with a chaser — looking to get the cure as fast as possible. This time God’s grace was with me, and I was a bit more thoughtful with the elements.
Luke 22 shares the story of the Last Supper, but it shares so much more. It shares the entirety of the Upper Room experience. Take a moment to read it then come back to this.
Jesus tells us to do this (the eucharist) in remembrance of Him. We are to remember His character and all that He has done despite the brokenness we experience on a regular basis. We are to remember that we belong, we are loved, we are worth it, we are covered. We are to remember that we are family.
The Upper Room was a place full of broken people that came to be with a friend. That very friend washed their feet, served them, taught them, warned them, equipped & empowered them, challenged them, forgave them, shared a meal with them, laughed with them, and embraced them to the bitter end.
The Upper Room was Hygge. The Upper Room was family dinner.
We are invited to an Upper Room state of mind constantly. We are invited to the family dinner of Christ Jesus Himself.
Think of the original family:
- Peter: denied Jesus three times
- Judas: betrayed Jesus, resulting in His death
- The rest: scattered and ran away in fear, leaving their Lord to His fate
We are no different, yet we are as welcome to dinner as much as they. We are called home to the warmth of the sign of the new covenant in His blood to remember that we have committed to being all-in because He was/is all-in, and we are always welcome even when we deny, betray, or abandon Him.
That burning in your belly for belonging and love, that appetite for something more — it might not be satisfied by meat & potatoes, but the body & blood of Christ will fill you to bursting! When every other institution of life seems to be failing and you’re ready to jump ship — remember that the invitation to family dinner has been eternally extended. You are welcome. All are welcome.
Come inside, take off your shoes, remember and commune.
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