“Bread, Bath & Beyond:  We Are What We Eat”

First Congregational United Church of Christ

August 14, 2011

The Rev. Sharyl B. Peterson

Scripture Readings:  Lev. 19 (portions), Luke 6:20-26

During this month of August, we are spending our sermon-time (and hopefully, time outside of worship-service too) considering some everyday justice issues.  We are thinking in concrete ways about how the choices we make, each and every day, right here in August, 2011, in Grand Junction, Colorado affect not just our own lives, but may affect the lives of people living half a world away from us.  We are considering what “God’s agenda,” what “Jesus’ agenda” for our justice choice-making might look like.  And we’re struggling with the reality that every one of the justice issues we address is complicated … that there are no easy solutions, but there are things we can do – even if small things – to increase the justice that prevails in the world.

            Today, we’re going to consider how the food we eat has implications for justice-creating (or justice-lessening).  And I’m going to begin with a confession:  I like food.  I thoroughly enjoy eating good food.  I like Carl’s Jr. Western Bacon Cheeseburgers, and I like Palisade peaches, and I like (as most of you know) anything chocolate. 

            I would also bet that most of you like food.  And I’d bet that because I’ve eaten some of the great things you’ve brought for pot-lucks, and I’ve seen you enjoy eating the food other folks have brought … to say nothing of the sales of samples of Heidi’s amazing fudge … or of your avid consumption of some of the Fair Trade chocolate bars our Women’s Fellowship group sells during Coffee Hour each month. 

            And because I like food, and you like food, you can rest pretty confident this morning that I’m not going to be suggesting we stop eating food altogether, as a way of increasing the justice in the world.  But I am going to suggest that all of us can be – and need to be – more faithfully mindful as we make some choices about the food we eat. 

            Now, from a faith perspective, most of us know that when it comes to the enormous subject of food, there are many justice issues that we could address.  Like the fact that right now, as we sit here worshipping, millions of people are malnourished or starving in southern Somalia.  And their suffering is being deliberately exacerbated by their own regional government, which is sending troops to steal half or more of all donated food supplies.  Or the fact that right here in our own country, one in six households – some 50 million people, some 17-plus million of them children – are struggling with hunger[1] – or, as it was renamed in 1995, with “food insecurity.” 

            But hunger – “food insecurity” – is only one of the justice issues related to food.  Based on the reading I’ve been doing in recent weeks – and rather to my dismay – I need to add justice-questions like how can I eat and enjoy chocolate when I know that millions of people – including high numbers of children – are literally enslaved – chained, brutalized – as part of the cocoa production process[2]?  Or like, how can I enjoy a morning cup of coffee, knowing that coffee-farmers in Tanzania are receiving $15 for their entire yearly crop of coffee[3]?  Or like, how can I help send young men and women into wars to protect oil-sources, so that, among other things, I can enjoy a dollar cheeseburger which requires 250-300 gallons of oil per steer[4] to grow, slaughter, and transport to market?  And those are just three of a much larger number of justice-issues related to the way we eat.  Justice-issues related to the choices we make every day about what we eat.

            Now, I want you to realize that this is not a sermon that a minister could – or would – or should have preached even a few decades ago.  The notion that most people – not all, but at least most of us sitting here this morning – that most people have choices about what to eat is a very new one, historically-speaking. 

            For example, at least some of you here this morning grew up on farms.  And you may well remember that what you ate was by and large what your family produced.  If your Dad raised hogs, you ate pork.  If your family raised dairy-cattle, you drank a lot of milk and ate a lot of cheese.  You ate what your family grew, whether animals or vegetables, with the addition of a few luxuries like salt and pepper, and the few essential food-goods that your family couldn’t produce.

            And some of you here this morning grew up in urban-areas, instead of on farms.  While your family bought your food instead of raising it, you can probably remember that the grocery-stores in which your family shopped were very different from the food-marts and super-centers of today.  For one thing, most of what those groceries sold was meat or produce that was in season.  There were no strawberries from China in January, or blueberries from Uruguay in December.  For another thing, the foodstuffs they sold were things you took home and prepared for eating – there were no in-store delis back then, where you could purchase already-cooked meatloaf or mashed potatoes or salad for supper. 

And finally – and most relevant to our reflections today – the foodstuffs they sold were far more limited in variety than the under-40 people among us can begin to imagine.  Instead of 25 varieties of canned beans, there were two – or three, if you lived in an urban area.  Instead of an entire freezer-aisle of ice-creams, sherbets, sorbets, and frozen yogurts,         there might be three or four flavors of ice cream, plus vanilla ice-milk.  And instead of 55 brands of salad-dressing, there weren’t any – if you were going to have salad-dressing, you either had the mayo-type version, or you made your own oil-and-vinegar combo.

            Current market research has clearly demonstrated that “The way we eat (in the U.S.A.) has changed more in the last 50 years than in the 10,000 years before that[5].”  Today, we can have virtually anything we want, just about any time of the day or night that we want it. 

            Egg foo yung?  Pad thai?  Fresh pineapple in January in the high desert of Colorado?  We can probably find it in our local grocery-store, or at a local restaurant; we may even be able to have it delivered. 

Comfort food.  Soul food.  Ethnic food.  Kosher.  Hallal.  Vegetarian.  Vegan.  Organic.  Low-fat.  Low-carb.  Gluten-free.  Fast food.  Slow food.  You name it, we can probably get it – more or less on demand.

            Now, let me pause for a moment, and add a very important justice caveat here.  When I say that “you can get it” – or that “we can have it” – the reality is that the “you” and the “we” I am talking about are the majority of the folks sitting here this morning, and those who will read this sermon later in the week at home. 

            Most of us are not “food insecure.”  Most of us live comfortably enough to have a staggering array of food choices available to us.  But “most of us” is not “all of us.”  There are folks right here this morning who are hungry, who didn’t have breakfast, who struggle to afford cans of soup, who can’t afford the luxury of ordering out pizza.  We need to acknowledge that reality.  And we need to keep doing everything we can so that everyone who is hungry is fed.

That said, most of us here do have numerous food-choices, and it is to everyone who does have those choices – including myself – that I address this.  The foundational ethical question – the foundational justice-question for those of us who do have a wide array of choices available to us, is this:  how shall we make those choices?  What shall be our attitude toward food, the attitude that drives our choices?  Do we eat to live … or do we live to eat? 

            If, as people of faith, we turn to the Bible for guidance in wrestling with this hard stuff, we find some very helpful guidelines.  For example,  our first reading this morning comes from the book of Leviticus, in which the author is laying out some of the basic food principles related to being a person of faith. 

            The writer begins by reminding the hearers (or readers) what the point of all these principles is:  “Speak to all the congregation … and say to them: You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”  In other words, you are called to do these things because I am your God, and you are my people.  And if you really are going to be my people, here are some things you need to do to help this be and become the kind of world that I (Yahweh) want it to be. 

            First, you need to remember that food is holy.  From its growing, to its sharing, to its preparation, to its consumption, it is holy.  It’s holy enough to be offered as the primary sacrifice to God.  And so you should treat it as if it’s holy, which includes taking care of the plants and the animals that produce it, and using it carefully, including not wasting it. 

            Next, the text says, you should remember that growing food is a holy occupation,        which connects you with your brothers and sisters in the rest of the community.  So, when you grow food, don’t be greedy.  Don’t harvest every last kernel of corn or wheat from the fields, don’t pick every last grape in the vineyard.  Leave some so that those who are less fortunate than you are can come and get at least a little food for themselves. 

            Remember too, that you need to be mindful about your growing practices.  Do what is good for the land, do what is good for the water, do what makes sense in terms of the growing-seasons, and those practices will pay off in better and more abundant crops for you. 

            And finally, when your food production involves buying and selling, be honest.  Use accurate scales and weights and measures, so people who buy get what they are paying for.  (And when you pay employees to help produce food, pay them a fair wage.) 

            Oh yes, and one more time:  the reason you should do this is because I am your God, and you are my people.

            And so, if we believe that God is also our God, and that we too are God’s people, we are called to be more mindful about food – and food production – and food consumption – and its holiness – than folks who don’t claim those affiliations for themselves. 

            But it’s not just the Old Testament that has a lot to say about food and about eating.  Jesus (and Paul) have a lot to say about it too. 

            Most of us know the stories in which Jesus feeds crowds of hungry people who have come to hear Him teach.  Most of us know how often Jesus preached specifically on the importance of His followers – that includes us, my friends – feeding the hungry.  And in today’s passage from Luke’s Gospel, we hear Jesus making some explicit connections between food and justice.

            You may have recognized this Scripture reading as Luke’s version of what we call the Sermon on the Mount even though in Luke it’s actually the Sermon on the Plain.  In this passage, Luke tells us that as Jesus is preaching, He says:  “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled … But woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.” 

            And in our trying to unpack this passage, and figure out what it might mean for us, we run into a situation where it would be helpful if all of us knew the Greek language, because what Jesus is saying here is much more nuanced than it sounds in English. 

            First of all, Jesus promises to those who are hungry – actually, who are “famished,” either for food or for justice, that “they shall be chortazo (kor-TAH-zoh).”  Chortazo.  It’s a word that means “fed” – but “fed” in a deeply pastoral, shepherd-like way.  When Jesus promises, “the hungry shall be chortazo,” He isn’t just promising their stomachs will be filled, but is hearkening back to the promise that God will shepherd God’s people, leading them, as the beloved Psalm 23 says, to green pastures beside still waters.  “Those who are famished, or (who are) famished and parched for justice, will receive a response from a loving, life-giving God who provides for their needs as a shepherd provides pastures for flocks of sheep[6].”

            Interestingly, in contrast to that loving promise, Jesus goes on to apparently rebuke those who not hungry, those who have plenty to eat:  “Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.”  Again, if we pull out our Greek dictionaries, and take a closer look at what Jesus is talking about here, we realize that Jesus uses a different word for ‘full’ here than He does when He promises the hungry will be full (or filled). 

Here, the word He uses to describe people who are “full” (and whom He threatens with “woe”) is empimplemi (em-PIMP-lay-mee), a word that might be better translated into English as “sated” or “stuffed.”  “In other words, while Jesus uses a verb about pasturing flocks for the promise, in his rebuke he uses a verb that means ‘stuffing oneself.’  Jesus heaps shame on those who fill their bellies (over)full while others around them are hungry.  If one is eating that much, surely one has enough to share with the famished[7].”

            Nowhere is Jesus suggesting that we ought to go hungry – in fact, he makes it very clear that no-one should go hungry.  What He does remind us is that there is a big difference between being “satisfied” and being “stuffed.”  “Satisfied” is good.  “Stuffed” – not so much.

            Unfortunately, many of us living in our contemporary world have lost sight of that distinction.  Because we can buy 30 kinds of chips, many of us do – and eat them!  Because we can afford to eat meat three meals a day, seven days a week, many of us do.  Because we can get Bigger Burgers for only a buck, we do – and we have “some fries with that.”

            And because we have lost sight of the difference between being “filled” (chortazo) – having enough – and being empimplemi (em-PIMP-lay-mee) – stuffed – in our country today obesity, and heart disease, and diabetes are rampant, and children as young as five years old are dying of heart-attacks.  And because we have lost sight of that distinction, many of our food-buying, food-eating, food-consuming choices are in fact having devastating effects on the environment, and on our sisters and brothers elsewhere in this world.  Clearly, if we are interested in being God’s people, in being God’s justice-bringers, something has to change!

            The challenge of our faith – of our Christ – is that we may have to read a little more – or a lot more – about what we eat; that we may need to think a little more – or a lot more – about what we eat; and that we may even have to make some sacrificial choices about what we eat.  The challenge of our faith – of our Christ – is that we need to think very seriously about how much and what food is “enough,” and what constitutes being “stuffed.”  We need to consider carefully how the choices we make among those 40,000 products the average supermarket carries have wider ramifications than simply satisfying our personal taste-buds. 

            For example, this week in my reading I learned something I’d never known – about the current-day slave trade – the literal enslavement of 14 million people, tens of thousands of them children – which produces chocolate.  Knowing that means I now have a responsibility to re-think my chocolate consumption – and to not just rethink it, but to change it. 

            And the good news is for all of us is, both reflection – and change – are possible.  The good news is that there are faithful, justice-based choices we can make about eating.  The good news is, we can have chocolate.  We can have coffee.  We can even have cheeseburgers, if we really want them. 

            And if chocolate, or coffee, or cheeseburgers aren’t your thing, you’re still eating something.  And so, the bookmark in your bulletin today offers some possible strategies we might consider in trying to eat in a more justice-oriented way.  The bottom line is, while there are no simple solutions, there are do-able solutions.  We can make different choices.  And we can create justice with those choices.

            As Julie Clawson reminds us in her book Everyday Justice (in Chapter 4), “What we eat and how we produce it does matter to God.  Food is (about) more than just functionality or pleasure; it is part of the bigger picture of how we serve God.  We eat every day, and if we are seeking to love God and love others every day, then our food choices matter.  Eating becomes an ethical (and therefore justice-driven) choice[8].” 

            May we learn to eat in new ways.  May we learn to eat with new joy and gratitude.  And may we learn to eat in ways that help bring about God’s kin-dom on this earth.  Amen.