Looking for a meal

Here we are in Paris and I found myself looking for a meal. Now there's no shortage of food. It may be a little difficult figuring out what is being ordered from a French menu when the waiter speaks no English. But I've found one sure method that works every time if you're looking for something good to eat. Go into one of the many pastry shops, point to anything and hold up one finger. Soon you'll be in confectionary heaven.
But let's get back to my Sabbatical theme and my search for a meal. I spent part of Monday going through 12th-16th century paintings at the Louvre museum looking for religious art that might depict the Lord's Supper. The only painting I found was a 16th century depiction of a Mass. It was very clear from the painting what was important in that meal. All eyes were glued on the bread as it was being elevated. They were watching for the moment when the bread would become the flesh of Jesus. The reason they came to Mass was not to share the meal. Only the priest was likely to actually eat the bread unless it was Christmas or Easter. And the church members would never drink from the cup. The Lord's Supper had become a meal of mystery, not a meal of communion. When the reformation began one of the first things that happened was to do away with this adoration of the bread and cup and to offer both to those who came and to make the meal one of communion with God. Later in the reformation Disciples would also emphasize how the meal acted as a way to share communion with each other.
The religious art from the 12th-16th century that I viewed yesterday had essentially two themes,birth and death. There were so many depictions of Mary and the infant Jesus. And there were depictions of Jesus' suffering and death. There were some pictures of the final judgment, but those scenes were filled with tormented souls being escorted to hell. Fear was and continues to be a dominant theme in religious life. In the middle ages, if the plague didn't kill you some war would probably do you in. I'd like to say we've changed. In the past century we've gained a better handle on disease. But we can't seem to do much better with killing one another. As I walked through Pere Lacheise Cemetery yesterday I was struck by the agony depicted in monuments erected in memory of people who had lost their lives in concentration camps. There was a monument for each concentration camp. I also walked past the monument erected at the grave of Oscar Wilde, an author from Ireland and England in the late 19th and early 20th century who was imprisoned for two years in London because of a homosexual relationship with a British Lord.
Could it be that when our religion produces fear in us it also encourages fear of others and allows us to strike out at those who are different from us with a holy, self-rightous zeal.
What difference might be made if we shared a meal. Oh, I'm not thinking that would remove our fear. But in the company of others, in the company of those different from ourselves, in the company of a God who was recognized as loving, would an edge be taken off our fear? Would destructive energy be turned to better uses?