We may wallow in our own piety and pietisms, or be satisfied with our meager piece of dried fish, our bowl of porridge, our little chunk of stale religious bread. We don't need anything more than that. We call that humility, though actually it's a perverse form of spiritual pride that refuses Christ's gifts. The hunger is greater than we think. Our thirst is deeper than we imagine.
Death looms big.
The devil is real and restless. Our own sinful flesh doesn't give us a moment's rest. And like Babbette and her seven-course dinner, Jesus sets before us a meal we could never have dreamed of. More than we could have asked for. A feast the likes of which this world does not know of.