By Bread Alone

It is said that for the last years of her life Catherine of Siena subsisted solely on the Eucharist. Then there is Mary Magdalene, who legend says was fed daily on heavenly bread brought to her by an angel. So many saints it seemed, at least in the medieval period, didn’t need to eat, they were sustained by the Eucharist alone.

I had not given these pious legends much thought until recently, when for the last couple of weeks the only solid food I have eaten was the Eucharist (though not delivered by an angel). The rest of my diet has consisted of yogurt and mashed tubers of various sorts, with a bit of (mashed) squash thrown in for variety.  Baby food has more texture than most of the things I’ve been eating. I am definitely not a saint, as I am certain a saint would not be as grumpy about my limited diet as I am. 

Despite my grumpiness, I am grateful that yogurt and mashed yams and their ilk can hold body and soul together for a few weeks, grateful that I have food to put on the table at all, grateful that these limitations are short term, grateful that I can receive the Eucharist. Does the grumpiness give some texture to my gratitude? Perhaps. Perhaps when things are going smoothly I am less aware of what I am grateful for.