One of my favorite authors died yesterday, Robert Farrar Capon. Capon was an Episcopal priest, amateur chef, and author. Capon had the Lewis-ian gift of writing with power, wit, and insight. Namely, he was the author of The Supper of the Lamb, a winsome (in the fullest sense of the word), poetic, graceful book of culinary-themed reflections on grace, hospitality, friendship, feasting, and food.
I’ve quoted Capon several times on this blog (wine and contemplation and delight), and point you now to a brief reflection on Capon’s life. Another excellent Capon quotation included in that link is quoted here as well:
“The Reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellar full of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two-hundred proof Grace – bottle after bottle of pure distilate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the Gospel – after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps – suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started…Grace has to be drunk straight: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, not the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case.”