Where Are You Satisfying Your Hunger?

Everyone has just knelt down at Sunday Mass. I make deliberate eye-contact with my husband in the pew. He nods. My heartbeat quickens and my focus intensifies, albeit most definitely not for the right reason. 

Any parent of a toddler knows this simple Catholic truth: the Consecration is go time. 

My hand dives into our well-prepped diaper bag and I swing my squirmy toddler adeptly on to my lap. I pull out a book and open the pages, silence descending in our pew for the first time that Sunday, right as the bells acknowledging His presence echo throughout the sanctuary. I sigh deeply. This weekend would not include the ritualistic walk of shame to the cry-room in this all too sacred moment. It was a solemn duty it seemed at least one wiggly family per parish was obligated to weekly re-enact. That would probably be us next week, but this time I had timed it perfectly. 

Ironically enough, I’m sure the Holy Spirit nudged my eyes away from the altar at this moment to the time-honored classic grasped in my toddler’s slightly grimy fingers (snack had been how we got through the homily). It’s one I remember from my own childhood, with partially chewed edges and a spine that’s holding on to dear life, but with classically beloved sketches and vivid colors still shining up from the pages. Some would argue the most iconic children’s book of all time. An Eric Carle inspiration. 

The Very Hungry Caterpillar. 

As I page through, (if one can “page through” a board book) I’m slowly convinced that perhaps Eric Carle actually was inspired.

For those who missed this staple of adolescence, I’ll give you a brief synopsis. The simple story follows the life of a young caterpillar, beginning with him popping out of an egg and then following his journey of looking for food to eat. Throughout the course of a week he eats all sorts of different things. But even though the quantity he eats increases, at the end of every day he is always described as “still hungry.” Not only does the quantity of the food he consumes change, but the quality of the food becomes more extravagant and decadent. By the end of the week, after an enormous feast on all sorts of delicious treats, he has a stomach ache. Then, the following morning, he eats through “one nice green leaf.” And Carle describes him as feeling “much better.”

It was this moment in Mass, my toddler’s attention grasped by poking his tiny fingers through the holes in the pages signifying the caterpillar’s path of eating, that I was invited into an intimacy with Jesus. 

“You, Gracie, are a very hungry caterpillar.” 

And boy, is He right. So right that I didn’t even laugh at the fact that our good God was using a children’s book to speak to my heart. But He’s right, I am a very hungry caterpillar. While the hunger I experience may not be the same physical hunger of our beloved fictional character, I know deep-down that I go through every day of my life with a deep, deep hunger. And while I might not literally try to fill myself up by gorging on apples, pears, watermelon and cake, don’t I do this metaphorically? 

After all, how many times do I turn to different things in my life hoping that they will satisfy my hunger? How many times do I believe that possessions, accomplishments, or praise will fill the emptiness inside of me? How many times do I “over-eat” on the pleasures this world has to offer, the things that I believe will finally fill me up, only to be left feeling sick? 

In this way, aren’t we all very hungry caterpillars?

But the last day of the caterpillar’s feasting, he takes a different approach. Rather than splurging on excessive and decadent foods, rather than by attempting to fill himself through all sorts of different treats, he turns to something simple. He turns to something small. He turns to it, the book interestingly adds, on a Sunday. 

“One nice green leaf.” 

And then, he feels much better. 

I’m not going to argue here that Eric Carle was discreetly pushing a Catholic agenda. But I do think that there is truth to be gleaned from his writing. That truth being: rather than seeking to satisfy my hunger with all different sorts of externally appealing things throughout my life, why don’t I come back to the one thing that does satisfy? Rather than seeking my meaning, my purpose, my happiness in things that will inevitably lead me down the road of frustration or disappointment or even sin, why don’t I take the road toward the one thing I actually need? The one thing that is enough without anything else. The one thing that truly fills my hunger. 

The Eucharist. Jesus, Himself. 

Because try as I might, if I put anything else in the position of savior of my life, in the position of source of my joy and purpose, in the position of my meaning and reason, I will always be hungry. 

Theology of the Body speaker and writer Christopher West puts it beautifully: “the difference between a saint and the greatest sinner is where they go to satisfy their hunger.”

Other things are good as a means toward Him. But they can never be the end in themselves. They will never be enough. They will never satisfy our hunger.

He alone is enough. He alone satisfies. 

At that moment, I stared at the Eucharist in a new way. I even forgot about my toddler who got wiggly again and started leaving toothmarks in the pew. Suddenly, being the “perfect put-together, my-kid-never-misbehaves-at-Mass-mom” didn’t even seem important. Because, would achieving that even give me the satisfaction I was seeking either? 

Eric Carle describes how, after eating the one nice green leaf, the caterpillar forms a cocoon around himself. And then, after a few weeks, breaks free and has transformed into a beautiful butterfly. 

The Eucharist does not leave us unchanged. Every time we receive Jesus in the Eucharist He makes us more and more beautiful. Every time we receive Jesus in the Eucharist we are brought more deeply into union with Him through the very gift of Himself that He offers. We are transformed by His love and transformed into love. We are transformed into Him. 

He can. And He will. So get ready. 

Every Catholic should know this simple truth: the Consecration is go time.