The Gospel According to Pickled Fish

by Admin · March 17, 2026

An Easter Reflection by Gregory B. Stephenson –

In many Coloured homes, Easter announces itself long before the church bells ring. It begins in the kitchen. It begins with vinegar, onions and turmeric. And somewhere in the fridge, carefully covered and patiently waiting, lies the unmistakable centrepiece of Good Friday tradition: pickled fish.

Before the kettle boils and before the first visitor knocks on the door, the smell quietly fills the house — onions, vinegar, curry leaves and spices that have been soaking into the fish since the early days of Holy Week. For many of us, that smell is not simply food. It is memory. It is childhood. It is Easter.

People sometimes say that the Coloured community has little tradition or heritage. But let them step into a kitchen during Holy Week and they will quickly discover otherwise.

More than just a meal

Pickled fish is more than a meal. In many homes it has become a kind of cultural liturgy.

Families gather around the table. Bread is passed around. Someone inevitably sneaks a hot cross bun before the proper time. Laughter fills the room. Stories are told. And in those moments something deeper happens: the table becomes a place of belonging.

Throughout the Gospels, meals are never just meals. They are often moments where grace appears in the ordinary.

In the Gospel of Luke, two disciples walk the road to Emmaus after the crucifixion. They are discouraged and confused. A stranger joins them on the road, speaking with them as they travel. Only later, when they sit at the table and the stranger breaks the bread, do they suddenly recognise Him as the risen Christ.

It is one of the most beautiful moments in Scripture. The disciples encounter the resurrected Jesus not in a temple or through spectacle, but in the simple act of sharing a meal.

Perhaps that is why meals carry such deep meaning in so many of our homes.

In neighbourhoods that have endured poverty, violence, addiction and many other social struggles, the table often becomes the one place where dignity is restored. Around a shared dish, differences soften, conversation flows and belonging is rediscovered.

It reminds us of something important: Christ is not distant from the realities of our lives. He is present in the familiar spaces of our homes and streets.

Jesus in Kallid Times

This understanding inspired my book, Jesus in the Kallid Times, a collection of reflections rooted in the lived experiences of the Coloured community. While many of the stories emerge from the realities of Coloured life, the book is not limited to one culture. At its heart it is a book of faith — one that speaks to simple human truths that transcend communities, reminding us that the search for dignity, hope and God’s presence is something shared across all cultures.

Faith often becomes most visible not in grand moments, but in the ordinary rhythms of life that every culture understands — food, family, loss, celebration and hope.

The book therefore tries to place Jesus within the everyday moments of our lives — in family gatherings, funerals, neighbourhood struggles, and sometimes even in the preparation of a simple meal.

One chapter, titled “The Gospel According to Pickled Fish,” reflects on how this humble Easter tradition can reveal something profound about faith and belonging.

When families gather around that dish on Good Friday, they are doing more than preserving a recipe passed down through generations. They are preserving memory. They are preserving identity. And perhaps, without always realising it, they are also preserving hope.

Easter Hope

Because Easter itself is ultimately a story of hope.

It is the story of a God who enters broken places and refuses to abandon them. It is the story of resurrection emerging from suffering. It is the reminder that even in communities carrying deep wounds, renewal and healing remain possible.

Perhaps that is why our simple Easter rituals matter so much — the pickled fish, the hot cross buns, the quiet gathering of families around the table.

They remind us that faith is not only proclaimed from pulpits. Sometimes it is lived quietly in kitchens and dining rooms where ordinary people share food, stories and grace.

And maybe that is where the risen Christ still likes to appear — not far removed from everyday life, but walking among us, sitting at our tables, and breaking bread in the places we call home.