A few months ago we were watching daily dramatic reports about the acute famine in East Africa, followed by reports from war-ravaged Yemen that were uncomfortable to watch. Mass hunger remains an acute problem in many places around the world despite the many efforts made by international organisations and charities. Perversely, because those images of starvation are so graphic, they catch our attention. Yet hunger doesn’t seem to be the main food-related problem on a massive scale in the world. According to the World Health Organisation’s report published a year ago, ‘Overweight and obesity are linked to more deaths worldwide than underweight. Globally there are more people who are obese than underweight – this occurs in every region except parts of sub-Saharan Africa and Asia.’
Hunger has always posed a permanent threat to people’s lives, lurking deep in our individual and collective psyche. But now, on a global scale, the danger of hunger has been virtually removed thanks to developments in agriculture, food-processing, transport and storage. The most recent food disaster in the UK was a shortage of hummus a couple of months ago – moaning about that provided a plethora of jokes about the metropolitan elite in Britain. Globally, we produce enough food to keep hunger at bay. But our brains don’t know that. They have evolved to be hard-wired to expect hunger. At every opportunity, our bodies make the best of the richness of the moment to store as much reserves – in the form of fat – as possible. Effectively, our hard-wired brains are our own worst enemies in that respect. Somehow, fighting famine is easier. It requires better international co-operation with food distribution. It requires solving political turmoil in affected countries, as most modern hunger crises are man-made; natural disasters serve to intensify the problem. Fighting obesity is much more difficult, because the battle is won or lost by the individual. Fighting obesity is fighting against yourself.
And here a connection can be found between today’s Feast (the pun intended) of Corpus Christi and my raving about fighting obesity. In about fifteen minutes’ time we will hear from the altar the words of transformation. As we Catholics believe, a piece of bread and some wine will be changed into the actual Holy Body and Blood of Christ. These words, first spoken by Jesus at his Last Supper, have been repeated daily by priests across the centuries and across the world. These are words of self-sacrifice: ‘Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my Body […] given up for you. Take this all of you, and drink from it, for this is the chalice of my Blood […] poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.’ Jesus offers his own Body and Blood for the sake of you and me. But there’s one more, short sentence that concludes that miraculous transformation: ‘Do this in memory of Me.’
We are invited to the Feast where the best food and the best drink are being served. It might look extremely modest by earthly standards. But it’s a Feast out of this world, having power to strengthen our spirit. In fact, when received with faith, this holy food and drink can affect our bodies indirectly yet positively too. Because we are called to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, to imitate him in making a stand against self-indulgence (in its many forms), and thus to open up to those around us. The Eucharist is not merely a religious duty, a meaningless ritual repeated weekly in a hastily-celebrated ceremony. It’s a transformative meeting with Jesus Himself, genuinely and truly present among us, calling us to change the world by being changed ourselves – in memory of Him.