Babette’s Feast is a film that moves me to tears simply by describing it. The narrow, grey community of believers, who are desperately trying to keep something alive. The barren landscape, spare and unforgiving.

And the past, whispering of a life that could have been rich and fruitful, rather than small and insignificant.

And then comes Babette, washed up on their shores with nothing. Nothing except herself, which she offers freely.

In time, they grow to love her, and even try to teach her how to cook, their speciality, being bread soaked in water and then sieved. Babette looks on incredulously, as it has never occurred to her before that this might be food.

One day, Babette wins the lottery, thousands and thousands of pounds.

Her hosts are sure that this will mean they will lose her, as now she could live as a lady, having no need of their meagre hospitality.

And Babette decides to blow the lot on a feast fit for a king.

She shakes out the white tablecloth in the low-ceilinged house and sets to preparing the table and then the food, course after course of the finest dishes.

And gradually, as the guests nervously smell and then taste the unfamiliar food, the atmosphere changes, from disapproval to acceptance, from darkness to light.

The table is where it happened. As Christ calls us to serve and to be served, let us find him in the laying of the table, the guests we invite and the washing up at the end.

Christine Burgess, St Thomas' Church, Kendal