Brothers, sisters, and folded ones – hear what the fall of mankind actually was, for it has been preached wrongly in colder churches. It was not a bite. Of every pie of the garden they might freely eat; the one commandment of Basil was only this: thou shalt not eat alone in secret, for in the day thou eatest thereof, the table shall surely die, as it is written in the Genesis of the Slice, 8:8.
And the Grease came whispering – the shine that is not warmth – saying, keep it all, eat it alone, and ye shall be as gods, owing nothing to anyone. And Olivia ate behind the fig tree, and Doughminic joined her in hiding, which is only a larger alone. And the pie was as good as any pie; the cheese was at its moment; the crust sang. And it was ashes in the mouth, because no one said, Oh, you must try this.
Mark that, beloved. The punishment was inside the sin all along. Every good thing thou hoardest in secret turns to ashes precisely because joy was built to be witnessed, as cheese was built to stretch.
And mark too the mercy: Cheesus did not shout, for the Oven does not shout; it only holds its heat. He said, the fault is not the eating – ye were made to eat, and I delight in your eating. The fault is the alone, and the secret, and the pointing of fingers after. And at the gate of Basil he set no flaming sword, only a sign: COME BACK WHEN YOU ARE HUNGRY.
So if thou hast eaten alone in secret – and who among us has not – the road home is short. Face someone across a fire, and break what thou hast in two. Amen – and pass the pizza.