Back in the lovely days before widowhood, I often came home and was greeted by a rush of exotic aromas. Sometimes it was Italian cuisine, other times it was French, other times it might be Cajun. My late husband would be in the kitchen preparing a feast for us both.  

Whenever we dined on the back porch, he would come downstairs carrying a big tray bearing salads and glasses of wine, and later the main course. Sometimes I would glance at him beside me on the porch and think he was too good to be true. It was impossible to have such abundant love. Whatever had I done to deserve this?  

After he died, dining lost its magical appeal and became mere subsistence. Since he cooked for the 33 years of our marriage, my skills were limited. Now it is hamburgers and tacos and pizza, and he is no longer beside me. Still, the memories of our feasts are vivid and remind me of our love.  

This is why my favorite story about our beloved Jesus comes at the end of St. John’s gospel after the Resurrection, when Peter and John and some of the other apostles are fishing. They have been through earth-shaking events. First the heart-wrenching moment when their beloved master died, bloodied and torn, on the cross. Then the mind-bending realization that the tomb was empty. Next came his visiting them twice in a locked room.  

Maybe they went fishing because the sea, the tides, the fish and the birds were part of their everyday lives. They also had memories of the times when Jesus accompanied them. The time he was asleep in the boat and a huge storm came up. The time they saw him walking toward them on the water.  

After fishing all night, they saw someone on the shore at dawn but didn’t recognize him. He called out, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?” When they admit they have had no luck, he gives them advice on where to cast the net.  

Doesn’t it make sense that the one who created the seas and the skies knows the best way to catch fish? When the nets are full to the breaking point, John realizes it is the Risen Christ. How abundant is God’s love! He does not give them just enough for a meal, but more than they ever imagined.  

The group joins Jesus on the shore, where he is cooking fish and bread over a charcoal fire. He knows they are hungry. He calls out to them in words familiar to children in the morning: “Come, have breakfast!” This is the one who fed the crowds with fish and bread. The one who said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven.” 

Jesus cooking a meal for his friends evokes memories of my sweet husband, who put so much love into the food he prepared. We had many guests over the years. Sometimes the house was full of little children, who took their plates downstairs to watch videos while they ate. The adults sat in the living room, drinking wine, laughing and feasting on my husband’s amazing cuisine. The children are all grown up now, and they still remember the days when we all got together.  

The apostles had a vivid memory of the last time they had eaten with the Lord. How he showed his love for them by washing their feet. How he told them he was leaving but also comforted them: “Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.” He added, “If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father.”  

These are the words that bring me comfort too. At first, I was troubled and afraid when my husband died. Over time, though, I have come to believe he is with God at the heavenly banquet. He is dining on an abundant feast prepared by Jesus Christ himself. And this belief, this heartfelt prayer, this shining hope, has helped turn my sorrow into joy.