There has been a lot of ink spilled trying to nail down the
Kingdom of God. (multivalent pun alert) Used by Jesus as a term for something
that is at hand and to come in the future, it is here and there both spatially
and temporally. I do not want to try to map out what it is and means because it
can mean many things and has been used to justify a heap of things, both good
and bad. What interests me is a way to picture what an encounter with the
Kingdom is like.
The Kingdom of God is an amuse bouche.
Wait. What? Why? Why would I choose a metaphor associated
with a privileged elaborate Western culinary experience? Because I need to own
my own context, and since you are reading this on a computer and in English
there is a good chance you share a lot of those same privileges. And again,
this is not an effort to describe how we should act in the Kingdom, class
structure in the Kingdom, ecological concern in the kingdom, etc. It is how we
should understand our experience of the Kingdom. Consider the following:
Our understanding of
it is based on what we know is to come
What makes an amuse different than an hors d’oeuvre (lit.
outside the main work) is its connection to the main event. Maybe you have been
to one of those receptions where a few trays of food get passed, and you leave immediately
afterwards to go get pizza because two tiny spring rolls do not a meal make.
The amuse makes us look forward (temporally) and anticipate (usually through
intense salivation) what is coming
It testifies to the
intentions and skill of the chef
If every flavour is balanced, and the amuse is technically
impressive, you are probably in for a great meal. If it looks like it came out
of a grocery store freezer box labeled “appetizer medley” you might be at
Boston Pizza.
The amuse-bouche delights
us but does not satisfy us
Somewhat like point one, the important distinction
is that the amuse does not just make us think about its place in the larger
framework of the meal, it also bends our desires forward. We are turned on to
the experience of eating and are made conscious of a longing we did not know
was there.
It lingers on your tongue
An amuse is not
a palate cleanser (like an intermezzo usually is). When done right, they
are so small they are eaten quickly, yet so rich that they are not done. More
time is spent in reflection on what you ate than actually eating.
It is best experienced
in the company of others
Partly because the experience is so fleeting, the best way
to prolong the experience of an amuse is to watch others eat it, then to talk
about it. “What did you think?” “How did they do that?” “Your eyes rolled back
into your head!” You are not face down in a plate of food trying to debone a
bird or trying to hide a piece of gristle in your napkin. And since the amuse
for the night at a restaurant is the same for everyone, you can watch as new
patrons come in, already “wise” from your earlier experience of it and watch
knowingly as others encounter the wonder of the moment.
There are probably more levels of meaning in the event, and
the function of the Eucharist as the great amuse-bouche is obvious, but like
any good parabolic teaching, this is best left unfinished. That way there is
room to reflect on the delight and yearn for the meal to come.
