The announcement was made in our worship that help was needed to unload a trailer truck full of food for those in need in Utica. I wanted to know more about it, so I set aside an hour in my busy schedule. That would be enough time, I thought, to spend on this worthy project.

The wet snow was falling that Friday morning when I arrived. The trailer truck was parked on the street. The cases of food were on wooden pallets. There were cases of frozen peaches, hams, spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, canned pears, juices, hash brown potatoes, marshmallow candies, and boxes and boxes of fresh strawberries.

We moved the food to the garages of the St. Francis DeSales church. When it was all under cover, I was ready to go home. I had spent my hour. However, the work quickly shifted to opening the cases of food. Plastic grocery bags suddenly appeared, and they started being filled.

Two cans of pears. Two bags of candy. 12 of the small containers of frozen peaches. Two packages of spaghetti. Etc.Etc. All of it was packed into grocery bags or boxes.

Soon after we loaded a van to take the food to another site, the people started coming. They lined up further than I could see, when I took time to look. There were people of all colors in line. The number of languages that were spoken were more than I could recognize. The Vietnamese spoke with a kind of repetitive distinctness. The Spanish was melodic. The Russians stood in silence.

But it was not silent in the garage. With just barely enough room to move around, the bags and boxes of food were put together with amazing speed. The laughter and jokes, and the good mood prevailed despite the weather and the hectic pace.

I worked with two women who were gracious and accomodating. We kept switching our tasks almost without words as we quickly filled countless bags and boxes.

One of the items we were packing was the candy. "That looks good" one of the women said.

"I think a bag just fell on the floor and opened" I replied.

There was no comment, and so I opened it up, and in the brief moments of inactivity, we ate the halloween candy. It was, after all, our lunch.

The cases of food on the pallets slowly diminished. The two women would speak to their friends in line, always making jokes. One time she spoke up to a woman in line,"Is someone helping you?" She looked at me and smiled, "It’s my mother."

"It’s good to take care of those kind of things, " I replied. She laughed.

Someone yelled "Family of ten! We need more hams in this box!" And the hams were put in quickly put in, and the box was gone.

Three hours had gone by for me. The line of people kept coming. There were old men with graying beards. There were young people with wild makeup. There were quiet people, and loud people. Hundreds of people were there. Everyone was kind and pleasant to one another.

It was like a great banquet. Though there was no food eaten (with the exception of snitched strawberries and that bag of candy), there was the atmosphere of a feast. An aura of respect, and thanksgiving existed throughout all the people. It was a sense of community of people from many different countries. They helped one another, they were patient, and were quick to share positive comments.

There was little distinction between the volunteers, and the ones who came to get food. All had enough to eat, and people of all ages, races, and nationalities joined in a quiet excitement and celebration.

Jesus’ stories of heavenly banquets suddenly became more clear and real than ever before. It has been a glimpse of the Kingdom of God. I am deeply humbled. I look forward to being part of it all again.

Rev. Bradford Hunt