On May 28, World Hunger Day, we have a unique opportunity to reflect on the hunger that affects over half a billion people around the globe, including tens of millions in the United States. But our response to this problem cannot be merely an annual event. The corporal works of mercy and attentiveness to the suffering that require them demand attention year-round. In that spirit—and in the Jesuit spirit of magis—allow me to share a liturgical dream of mine. What if parishes across the United States included food drives as part of the presentation of the gifts during Mass?
This is not an addition I propose out of thin air. While the practice is not common, it is not completely absent in the United States, and the Catechism of the Catholic Church recognizes that these offerings have long been a part of Christian practice. (“From the very beginning Christians have brought, along with the bread and wine for the Eucharist, gifts to share with those in need” No. 1351.) We can see the importance of offerings from and for the community in ancient liturgical traditions. Centuries ago, community members would bring their own bread. A portion would be consecrated, becoming the body of Christ and received during the liturgy by those communicating; the rest would be distributed after Mass. The liturgical scholars Paul F. Bradshaw and Maxwell E. Johnson have also suggested that the early church celebrated the Eucharist as a true meal (as opposed to the singular hosts we consume today), where the poor received nourishment for their physical bodies in addition to their spirits.
Norms have changed, but the opportunity to love the poor through our Eucharistic liturgy remains present. In its section on the offering of the gifts, the “General Instruction of the Roman Missal” states, “It is well also that money or other gifts for the poor or for the church, brought by the faithful or collected in the church, should be received” (No. 73). At St. Michael Catholic Community in Michigan, the collection of food during the offertory began as an opportunity for the participation of the children in the parish; while the Covid pandemic forced some changes regarding the taking up of this collection, donation is now a sufficiently established part of the community’s worship that no special announcement is needed. I witnessed an expansion of the presentation of the gifts myself in the parish I attended while living in El Salvador. It felt like the baskets of food donations, carried in procession down the aisle with the bread and wine, were truly an offering of the community. The church—the people of God—were giving of their own resources.
The offering of community-gathered food donations also works to correct a theological misconception—or at least, a misemphasis. While the priest does offer the sacrifice of the Eucharist on behalf of those gathered, there is a danger of understanding those in the pews as passive recipients of the institutional church’s gift. As the Second Vatican Council reminded us, the liturgy calls the laity to active participation during Mass. A food donation offered within the liturgy could both serve as a token of participation and invite the congregation to claim more fully their active role. It can serve as a reminder, too, of the self-offering to which we are all called when we participate in Mass.
Linking our liturgies to this corporal work of mercy would not only be valuable in the immediate good it does—namely, fighting hunger in our communities—but could instill the habit of generosity in us. With something of a permanent food drive, highlighted weekly, we expand our opportunities to grow in that virtue. Like the bread and wine, the food that we bring to be given away was first given to us by God’s grace. It has found a holy end through our ability to return it to him. As Matthew 25 tells us, when we give food to the hungry, we feed Christ as well.
It is true that the congregation already has the opportunity to contribute during the collection. These donations are important; churches have to pay bills too! However, money, even conceived as a neutral tool, has been somewhat tainted in a world plagued by greed. Visible gifts for the poor do not carry the sense of transaction that a check in an envelope does. And as many parishes move to online giving, the sight of a food offering could help preserve the element of giving within the Mass.
We would also cultivate something beyond generosity: our remembrance of the poor. We are forgetful creatures, and it is helpful to have concrete and regular reminders of the values and realities that orient us. Drawing on the power of imagery, our Sunday obligation brings to our attention Jesus’ sacrifice and the paschal mystery; what’s more, that mystery is made present to us. Unfortunately, those suffering in the world can fade into the back of our minds amid the business of our daily lives. The procession of alms in the form of food could combat that inattention, serving as a visual reminder of those for whom we, the church, are called to have a preferential love. By incorporating this practice into a rite that we hold sacred, we emphasize the importance of caring for them. Lex orandi, lex credendi: “As we worship, so we believe.”
Imagine what it would look like if parishes across the nation took on this practice. Imagine churchgoers developing the habit of putting a nonperishable item on their weekly grocery lists, taking the needs of their poor brothers and sisters on as their own. Imagine parishes taking advantage of the catechetical opportunities the introduction of this ritual would provide, both as it relates to the preferential option for the poor and to the meaning of the liturgy. Imagine the potential for expanded community relationships as churches work within their community networks to ensure that those who need food receive it.
By liturgically recognizing the holiness of giving life to the poor and taking Christ’s identification with them seriously, we could provide meals where there would have been hunger. We could proclaim good news to the poor with more credibility and take steps toward truly becoming—to use the language of Pope John XXIII—a “church of the poor.”
Of course, this practice of charity would not free the people of God from their duty to work for justice to address the structures that make widespread hunger a reality. It would be hypocritical to offer donations but not to welcome poor and marginalized Christians into the church to worship. We are members of the same body, and love offered through life-giving nourishment should not come from a place of paternalism. With these commitments in place, though, weekly processions of food donations could allow a community to declare that caring for the poor is a vital part of their Christian identity.
An expanded offering of the gifts does not need to happen at a national scale to do immense good. Any single parish that takes up this practice would offer nourishment to those who lack it and open a door for the conversion of all those who contribute to or witness the procession of these gifts. At Mass, Christ gives us the gift of his body and blood day after day. By including gifts for the poor in our offering during that celebration, we would, in a sacramental fashion, symbolize and fulfill—at least in a small way—the commandment he gave us in John 13: to love one another as he has loved us.
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