A special Catholic occasion in Flanders is the First Communion, when a child takes his first Eucharist. Food is at the center of this important religious and social event
On Sundays between Easter and Pentecost, the church bells in Flemish towns sound joyously. Everyone seems to be out admiring a line of proud seven and eight-year-olds, heads bent and hands together, filing into the church. The girls wear new mostly white dresses, some with white gloves. Also the boys are in their Sunday best. They are going to receive their First Communion.
By the 19th century, Catholic churchgoers were taking the Host only at Easter, and young children were not allowed to take it at all. To rekindle the observance, Pope Pius X decreed in 1912 that there be a special mass in which children participate fully in the Eucharist for the first time. Religiously, this event grew into an important step after baptism and before Confirmation. Also socially it became a very popular event. It is estimated that about 60% of children in Flanders take it (see Note on Catholic Belgium).
Central to this special Mass is of course the Host. But most seven-year-olds, though they are awed enough by their first ceremonious occasion, don't really grasp the import and meaning of the occasion (this will be expected of them at their Confirmation at the age of twelve). For most kids, it is not the Body of Christ that is the main dish of the day, but the feast and the party that follow the ceremony.
In my time (late seventies), it was an all-family affair: a nice meal in a restaurant or at the house of the godfather (who footed the bill) with one's nearest and dearest. Nowadays, the parties have become bigger, the gifts more numerous and expensive. The average Flemish household will spend over US$3500. Some rent big halls, limos and attractions. Many complain that commercialisation has taken over the occasion, and that all this opulence contradicts the message of Christ's sacrifice.
But I am glad to hear that the dessert ritual has not been discarded. There is still an "ijslam" or "ice lamb": a cake topped by a spotless little lamb made of vanilla ice cream. The communicant is invited to stand in front of it and is solemnly handed a large, sharp knife. Wielding the knife with more or less dexterity, this seven-year-old proceeds to saw off the lamb's head! His or her effort is rewarded when the head rolls onto the platter and red syrup (grenadine) oozes out of the neck.
Gruesome? I find that there is something innocent and very appropriate about it. It is a moment when the religious spirit of the day is reasserted, albeit rather crudely. Still, as for myself, I don't remember grasping this point at all: I was just thrilled to be holding that big knife, and looking forward to the ice cream.
On the consumption of raw meat
A blessed treat: Saint Hubert mastellen