LAUSR

For several years an iconic image, taken by human rights photographer John A. Kouns in 1968, has inserted itself into my consciousness, compelling my attention each time I receive the Eucharist or preside at that sacred table: a photograph of United Farmworkers’ leaders Cesar Chávez and his wife, Helen Fabela Chávez, alongside Robert F. Kennedy, sitting in lawn chairs, receiving the Eucharist from Rev. Chris Hartmire. It was an extraordinary moment made up of the most ordinary elements. Chávez was ending his first nonviolent fast—lasting twenty-five days—in protest of severe health crises among farmworkers prompted by the use of toxic insecticides in the vineyards of California. With ordinary bread and wine, Chávez and Kennedy together received a meal with well-known spiritual and theological significance. The moment was profoundly complicated, however, by the material circumstances of the farmworkers. Already vulnerable as migrant workers, the Delano grape harvesters had faced many injustices: wage theft, inhumane working conditions, and now threats to their health. In this moment, sharing what was at once sacramental and ordinary food, Chávez received into his body the fruit of the vine for which he gave his labor and his life. This is the truth that compels my attention: When we receive this liturgical meal, we receive into our bodies a profound and sacred tension. On the one hand, we receive divine fellowship with God and (in the Christian tradition) with Christ himself. We receive membership in the body of Christ, in the church around the world, and in God’s body, the earth. On the other hand, we receive the work and the very lives of vulnerable and, too often, exploited laborers. We receive gifts of God’s earth that is also often exploited in the production of the fruit and the grain that make up the sacred meal. As I have written elsewhere, food matters. The ordinary food that we receive and ask God to transform in the Eucharist reaches across the expanse of human life. The relationship between sacred and mundane food is a site for theological reflection, moral deliberation, and faithful action. The essays in this issue demonstrate the reach of liturgical food and practice. When we gather around tables for the Eucharist and other sacred meals, we recall our agricultural roots, draw together with other people of faith, remember God’s creative and sustaining presence in history, receive a charge to bring good food to the world, and anticipate a future of abundance and joy.