Scriptures: Isaiah 25:6-10, Philippians 4:8-13
This evening we’ll be starting another series of storytelling evenings at church that we’ve called “The Food That Nourished Me.” We’ve done this a number of times over the past few years, using different angles that give people a creative way to share about their life and experience. We’ve done work, vocation, music, books. And it seemed a natural extension to do something about food. Tell us the story of your life through the food that’s been important to you at different points along the way. So Doris is going to kick us off this evening, and since the topic is food I think there may even be some examples to taste as we go.
Food is such a great topic, because it’s so important to all of us. Everybody needs to eat, every single day. Our daily rhythms are built around food. Breakfast, lunch and dinner – not to mention coffee breaks, snacktimes and dessert. Though we do probably have different rhythms and patterns on this score. I can’t help but think of the poor hobbits in the Lord of the Rings, who are devastated to discover that their hardened travel companions have never even heard of second breakfast, not to mention elevensies!
And food is also a great topic because it crosses over so easily between the different layers of ourselves. We eat to fill our stomachs, but also to sustain our spirits. This language of nourishment has these different overtones. We talk about the food that nourishes us, but we also talk about the things that nourish our hearts and minds and souls. And so our Sunday evening storytelling series gave birth to a Sunday morning worship series. What are the things that nourish us as whole people? What sustains us day to day and keeps us connected to the source of our life in God? Or as the passage from Philippians 4 puts it, what are those true and honourable and just and commendable things that draw us towards the God of peace? We will explore some of these things in the coming weeks. Things like spiritual practices, our unity with other believers, celebrations of blessing, family connections, music, community, creation.
But we start here today with food. Because food keeps us connected to the source of life in God too. There are so many stories about food in the scriptures. You couldn’t hardly make an exhaustive list, but it starts right from the fruit-tree in the garden of Eden. And before you know it, Noah’s planted a vineyard, Abraham and Sarah have fed three angels under some Oak trees, Esau has traded his birthright for some lentil stew and Joseph has risen to power in Egypt by wisely managing a terrible famine. Then there’s manna and quail in the desert, a land flowing with milk and honey, a widow who’s flour jar never empties and an exiled prophet who gets DoorDash delivery by raven. By the time Jesus arrives on the scene, the gospels are bursting with table stories – many of them gathering together an unexpected assortment of company. Jesus eats with Pharisees and tax collectors, fishermen and foreigners, and friends of all description. And offers himself in bread and cup. Then as the first communities of Jesus followers try to navigate their life together in the New Testament letters, a lot of what they wrestle with are questions about food too. What foods are clean or unclean? What about meat sacrificed to idols? What does it meant to share the Lord’s Supper together? What responsibility do believers have for helping the hungry in other places?
And beyond this whole wealth of biblical reflection, we also have our own experiences of food featuring in our life of faith. The many times when we have felt the love and care and provision of God, the connection to fellowship and community, through food provided for us or shared with each other.
We each have our own stories of the food in our childhood homes, and I suspect we’ll hear some of these during our Sunday evening events over the next few weeks. My mom did most of the cooking as I was growing up. Dad had a few key signature dishes that he added to the rotation – a curry with peanut butter as a secret ingredient, a chili soup that could stretch when company came, spaghetti, omelets, and probably some others too. But Mom did most of it. And her meal preparation was generally squeezed into small windows of time between kid-care and the piano students she taught in our home after school and into the evenings most nights of the week. She didn’t generally cook recreationally, or as an outlet for creative self-expression. It was about getting something in the oven at 4pm so it was ready during her half-hour break at 5:30pm. So Mom had her collection of tried and true recipes that she’d always go back to and follow pretty closely. A dish might get added from time to time, but it was generally a big deal when it did. And it usually took a pretty glowing recommendation from someone she trusted. She just couldn’t really afford to have a flop. And truly, she almost never did. Her food was always good. There were some things I liked more than others, but you could always count on a successful meal.
Now, there are some common patterns in how we relate to the way things were done in our childhood home. We usually have some soft spots for how our parents did things, and sometimes in fact we grow up without realizing there is any other way to do it at all. But for many of us there’s also an element of resistance that creeps into the mix – especially as we hit those adolescent years. We hop on the pendulum and swing it right on over to the other side. When I started to experiment with cooking as a teenager, I didn’t have a whole lot of interest in Mom’s box of recipe cards. I wanted to try things out for myself. Experiment with flavours a bit more. Throw things together and see how it turned out.
So it was truly an exciting new world for me when Pam and I started dating at the end of highschool and I started eating at her place sometimes. Pam’s mother was also the primary cook in her home, but with a rather different set of sensibilities than my mom had. She was definitely more of the creative type in the kitchen. More of a free-wheeling, coarse-chopping, toss it together kind of cook. Monotony was not generally her problem. Though consistency was not always assured. Lots of things were amazing. And she remains our gold-standard for apple pie. But occasionally things did not turn out quite so well. Odd combinations showed up from time to time, or dishes with altogether too much of some ingredient that just needed to be used up. But I enjoyed the adventure, and the journey beyond the recipe box that I had grown up with.
Perhaps not surprisingly, Pam had a similar reaction to my mother’s cooking as I had to hers. She was blown away by meal after meal with my family that always worked out just the way it was supposed to. The repertoire might have been limited, but when you’re a guest – even a regular one – you don’t really notice.
So we were set up for a strange set of kitchen battles when we first got married. Suddenly Pam was channeling my mom, and I was channeling hers! I’d want to wander the grocery aisles for whatever looked good and then just figure out supper with the things that happened to be in the fridge. Meanwhile she’d started enjoying menu-planning, list-based shopping and perfecting favorite recipes. We soon came to a mutual understanding that there could only be one cook in the kitchen at a time, and we still generally keep to that policy. Turns out the contributions of a back-seat chef are not always so welcome! Most of the time I find it’s best to take my advice and really helpful pointers right out into a different room. Though after 18 years of marriage we have learned how to cook together – as long as we’ve got a shared understanding of who’s in the driver’s seat!
I suspect we can step on each other’s toes in the kitchen because we both care about food. And that’s just another sign of how important food is for us on a bunch of different levels. It’s a daily chore, sometimes a daily grind, to put food on the table. The march of meals is relentless, and it’s not always a joyful task to figure something out that will both please the palate of all in the household while also providing the nourishment our bodies need. In our home, believe it or not, meals are not always delightful times of enjoying good food and reconnecting after days spent at our own activities. And food can be a challenge for folks with other life circumstances too. Cooking for one can be equally difficult.
But even granting all that, we know the power of food to nourish not only body but soul and spirit as well. We know the power of shared meals to create space for connection and relationship. To level our differences and bring us together.
For many people, and certainly for many church communities, one of the biggest felt losses during the pandemic was our opportunities to eat together. We missed our family dinners, our fellowship meals, our potlucks! The sharing of food naturally invites the sharing of lives. The table is a great leveler, as our hunger reminds us of our common humanity and the food on it reminds us of our common provision by the grace of God. What gathering or conversation or meeting or get-together does not go better if there are snacks?
Through the month of February we decided to take advantage of this simple truth by planning a series of Meals that Matter as a gathering point for the teenagers in our congregation. We’ve done this before over the years, so the idea wasn’t entirely new. But it sure worked well. We arranged for four different hosts to have us over and make dinner for us over a set of Sunday evenings. So 6-8 youth, a few adult conversation partners, and our gracious hosts who served delicious meals and joined in the conversation. And somehow we found that around the table our conversation could get a little deeper. We could ask some important questions, share a bit more honestly and listen to each other more intentionally. These were meals that mattered, and it was the food that did the heavy lifting. The food that led us into a space where we could connect at deeper levels.
Now, I don’t think that the meal needs to be elaborate or gourmet to make possible the kind of connection I’m talking about. We were treated royally during these Meals that Matter, but I know that simple food works too. Something miraculous happens when we share what we have together, no matter how little or how much.
But I do think that our enjoyment of food is important. Isn’t it interesting that for us human creatures food is not merely fuel for our bodies. The process of eating is very different from a quick fill at the gas station. We eat to fill our stomachs, sure, but we also eat because food tastes good! And our mouths and taste buds are made to appreciate and enjoy each unique flavour and texture. Admittedly, there are some things we like more than others, but I think that’s part of the point. Food is meant to be enjoyed. A good meal is satisfying on a bunch of different levels – in addition to meeting our hunger and connecting us with others around the table, it’s also a delight for our senses.
Think again of how Isaiah describes the mountain of God, where tears are wiped away and death is no more and salvation comes upon us. He describes a meal. And not just any meal, but a feast. One filled with rich food and well-aged wines. This isn’t just nutrition rations to meet our basic needs. This is good food and drink. I don’t know what a feast would have looked like in Isaiah’s time, but I imagine tables overflowing with dishes – breads and cheeses, roasted meats, sauces, fresh fruits and vegetables. But also desserts and treats! Cakes and pies and honey. And, yes, a selection of the very best wines from good years properly aged in God’s cellars.
This is a scene of joy. A party. Where there’s so much food it’s silly. Where satisfying hunger is only the beginning. God wants us to enjoy these good gifts! To receive not only what we need but what will bring us joy together. The physical and the spiritual are tied so closely together. Sometimes the way to our spirits is through our stomachs. And sometimes our eating together opens out into depths we couldn’t have imagined.
But this close connection between stomachs and spirits means that food can be complicated in a lot of ways too. All good things have their shadow sides, and food can certainly be the source of some grief. I think first of the many food intolerances and allergies that people have. Our beloved potlucks are a minefield for some who can never be quite sure what toxic ingredient might be lurking in a good-looking dish. Those with food sensitivities of whatever kind know well the awkwardness of being offered something that’s sure to cause problems, and struggling to decide in the moment whether to accept and take the consequences or decline and risk a minor social scene. Or just sitting on the margins and looking sadly at food that the eye still wants but the body will reject. It’s easy to feel on the outside of the meal, the group and even the faith community.
I remember back when we first began offering a gluten-free option for our communion services. There were a handful of people with a gluten intolerance at that point, but it was Chip Bender who took the initiative to raise the issue after communion one Sunday in an email with the provocative subject line: “The Poison Body of Christ”. It really was a very gracious communication, but an important reminder that for some the loaf of bread being offered was not one of those things that nourishes.
We also know that food can play heavily into mental health issues and body image struggles. Eating disorders can be devastating, and so difficult both to live with with and heal from. How does the mountain of God, with its feast of rich food, look and sound to someone living with this kind of reality? Can food still be a sign and a sacrament of blessing and grace?
And then we also think about our societies of over-consumption and the inequalities of food distribution and security around the world. We are meant to enjoy food, to take pleasure in the good things the earth provides for us to eat, but in this time and place our desire often goes well beyond our actual hunger. We eat to excess, we produce acres of food that doesn’t really nourish, and we waste vast amounts of the food that does. Our relationship with food pulls us towards sin as often as towards salvation. We do well to remember that the nourishment of our bodies and our spirits are connected. Closely connected. It matters what and how we eat. Food is always a place where we meet God.
As we spend these next weeks exploring the things that nourish, the first verse from the Philippians reading we heard will become something of a theme. “Finally beloved,” Paul writes, “whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable” – in other words, whatever nourishes you – “if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.”
And lest we think that Paul only has in mind the higher matters of spiritual existence here, he goes on right away to talk about food. “For I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”
Among those things that nourishes us is the very food we eat. Honourable, just, pure, pleasing and commendable. And also sometimes fraught, challenging, tempting and unequal. A space where God meets us around tables and over casseroles. Even when we don’t have much to share. But also, we should be warned, when we have too much and we struggle to share it. The food that nourishes is the provision of our God, the gift of the one who strengthens us no matter what our circumstances – well-fed or hungry, with plenty or in need. Looking forward to the great feast on the mountain of the Lord where rich food and good wines will finally wipe the tears from every face. Where as we swallow these gifts, they will in turn swallow up death forever.
By your hands we all are fed – thank you Lord, for daily bread.
Amen.