They broke bread…and ate together with glad and sincere hearts…
– ACTS 2:46

For people who grew up in a typical American church (of which I’m not one), there is a constant fixture in their experience of weekly worship gatherings. While it could be a pipe organ, a robe wearing preacher, a hymnal, or even an esoteric architectural feature like a narthex or a nave, the most universal feature of the American church is something most often known as the “fellowship hall.” In many cases the fellowship hall is named after a founding member of the church or a generous person who donated the carpet several decades and multiple fruit punch spills ago.

In every fellowship hall across the vast expanse of the church universe, on any given week, people engage in the same activity: they eat together. This is the site of the casserole and the pecan pie. It’s where people show off their Mid-western “hot dish” or their ambrosia salad. It’s the place where you can find several different varieties of mac-n-cheese and Texas sheet-cake brownies. It’s also the place where the life of the church is shared. Eating together provides a kind of backdrop for allowing those people we sit around every week to be invited a bit deeper and more personally to our lives. In that sense, food becomes merely the means to an end.

But, to talk so someone who grew up in that world — a world of proud grandmas with generations-spanning family recipes that reach all the way back to the American Revolution — their greatest moments in the fellowship hall didn’t involve a potluck. The best moments always occurred when the Pyrex and the Tupperware stayed locked away in their under-the-counter homes. The best of the fellowship hall was when no child was forced to smile a kind “thank you” after sampling someone’s disquieting “tuna surprise” dinner. The best experience was unequivocally when a ton of pizza and a boatload of soft drinks met eager appetites post-church.

While there is a certain down-home appeal to the church potluck — one which we occasionally resurrect — there is a measure of relief on all parties when we can eat together and not have to cook or clean up (except for the disposal of whatever plates and napkins we use). For the rest of October, we’ll provide pizza at $3 a plate (2 slices and coke) after the Sunday at 5pm service. No, not every day calls for a pizza-and-coke deviation from our better nutrition-minded sensibilities. But, once a week, pizza night feels like a win for the family. Bring a few bucks and lets eat “together with glad and sincere hearts.” Relax, eat, chat, and feel free to save the “tuna surprise” for another day.

See you Sunday,

Jeff