"It’s Only Food…. Right?"

pdf format: click here

The Rev. Suzelle Lynch
July 15, 2007

First Reading
"Food Quotes"

• People ask me: "Why do you write about food, and eating, and drinking? Why don't you write about the struggle for power and security, and about love, the way the others do?" . . . The easiest answer is to say that, like most other humans, I am hungry.
  - M. F. K. Fisher (1908-1992) U.S. culinary expert, author "The Gastronomical Me," Foreword, 1943.
• In America, a parent puts food in front of a child and says, 'Eat it, it's good for you.' In Europe, the parent says, 'Eat it. It's good!'
  - John Levee "Another Way of Living," by John Bainbridge.
• Food is our common ground, a universal experience.
  - James Beard (1903-1985) US chef, author "Beard on Food," 1974.
• Let the stoics say what they please, we do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory and the appetite is keen.
  - Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) "Essays," "Nature" (Second Series), 1844.
• I told my doctor I get very tired when I go on a diet, so he gave me pep pills. Know what happened? I ate faster.
  - Joe E. Lewis (1902-1971) U.S. comedian, actor "Food."
• He who distinguishes the true savor of his food can never be a glutton; he who does not cannot be otherwise.
  - Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) US essayist, poet, naturalist "Walden," "Higher Laws," 1854.
• I eat to live, to serve, and also, if it so happens, to enjoy, but I do not eat for the sake of enjoyment.
  - Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948) Indian philosopher
• Old people shouldn't eat health foods. They need all the preservatives they can get.
  - Robert Orben (1927-____) US editor, writer
• Health food may be good for the conscience but Oreos taste a hell of a lot better.
  - Robert Redford (1937-____) US actor, producer, director
• I understand the big food companies are developing a tearless onion. I think they can do it -- after all, they've already given us tasteless bread.
  - Robert Orben (1927-____) US editor, writer
• If we do not permit the earth to produce beauty and joy, it will in the end not produce food either.
  - Joseph Wood Krutch (1893-1970) US naturalist, conservationist, writer, critic.
• God comes to the hungry in the form of food.
  - Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948) Indian philosopher
• Only the pure in heart can make a good soup.
  - Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) German composer
• I believe that if ever I had to practice cannibalism, I might manage if there were enough tarragon around.
  - James Beard (1903-1985) US chef, author. Recalled on his death 23 Jan 1985.

Second Reading
Excerpted from For A Future To Be Possible: Commentaries on the Five Wonderful Precepts, by Thich Nhat Hanh.

In modern life, people think that their body belongs to them and they can do anything they want to it. "We have the right to live our own lives." When you make such a declaration, the law supports you. This is one of the manifestations of individualism. But, according to the [Buddhist] teaching of emptiness, your body is not yours. Your body belongs to your ancestors, your parents, and future generations. It also belongs to society and to all the other living beings. All of them have come together to bring about the presence of this body -- the trees, clouds, everything. Keeping your body healthy is to express gratitude to the whole cosmos, to all ancestors, and also not to betray the future generations. We practice this precept for the whole cosmos, the whole society. If we are healthy, everyone can benefit from it -- not only everyone in the society of men and women, but everyone in the society of animals, plants, and minerals.

(Found at http://dharma.ncf.ca/introduction/precepts/precept-5.html)

SERMON
It’s Only Food…. Right?

One fine spring day when I was a sophomore in college, I walked down the dormitory hallway to visit my friend Carol, who had one of the coveted single rooms on our floor. Carol’s door was open, and as I walked in, she turned from where she was looking out the window at the bright green leaves and fluttering birds and handed me a green pepper. “Take a bite,” she urged. “It’s so goooood!” And with an ‘mmmm’ she munched another mouthful from the pepper in her other hand.

Well, I was hesitant. You have to know that at that point in my life, at the age of 19, I had never voluntarily eaten a green pepper. I was a notoriously picky eater. Food was not romance to me – I ate what I had to to fuel my body for each day, and avoided trying new things like a finicky five-year-old.

But something in Carol’s eyes, and the beatific look on her face when she crunched into that pepper sparked my interest. I plucked the plump green alien from her palm, closed my eyes, and sank my teeth into its skin. Mmmmn, indeed! Fresh, sweet juice droplets popped across my tongue, accompanied by a mild green sort of grassy-spicy taste. The pepper was satisfyingly crunchy, too. It was a revelation – spring wasn’t just outside the window, it was in my mouth, too! “Wow,” I said to my friend. “This is amazing!” And she smiled that beatific smile again.

So many of us have had experiences like this with food – the delightful mystery of a new taste in our mouths, the marvel of something familiar, yet still indescribably delicious, like mom’s pot roast or dad’s apple pie. We know the communion of a meal shared with those we love. We’ve felt gratitude for hunger sated, gratitude for the hands and heart of someone who cooked for us. I don’t know how many of you have seen the movie “Ratatouille” that came out last week -- it’s an animated film, so you might think that it’s a kid movie. My family and I saw it a week ago, and I won’t give away the plot, but I will tell you this – it’s fun for children, but it also touches the hearts of adults. If you see it, you will be reminded that food can be a source of revelation, a venue for transformation, and that eating can be a spiritual practice and a soulful experience that helps heal our world.

Food touches deep into the heart of our lives – for we all are hungry, as M.F.K. Fisher put it so succinctly. Food is life, it is family, it is identity -- tied to our ethnicities, it is common ground. It is a metaphor for all good things in life – as Sarah McLachlan’s song, “Ice Cream” reminds us. Food evokes memories long forgotten. And God comes to the hungry in the form of food, as Gandhi said. I wrote my first sermon about eating as a spiritual practice more than seven years ago, not long after I read a book by former Buddhist monk Donald Altman called “Art of the Inner Meal,” and subtitled, “Eating as a Spiritual Path.” The subtitle made me want to giggle, because in true American excess-is-best fashion it brought to my mind’s eye the image of a guy who had just munched his way through a table groaning with delicacies, who now sits serenely with a Buddha-like half-smile on his face and a thought balloon hovering overhead that reads, “Ahhhh, enlightenment!” At the time, I believed that eating, such an everyday, common event in our lives, could by its very necessity, be used to center us more deeply and help us live more soulfully, especially if we could free it from the cultural baggage and shame around body image and body size.

Those things are still important, of course. Too many of us eat as a way to avoid inner pain, and then feel terrible about ourselves. Others of us absorbed punitive attitudes about food and eating from our families of origin. Much of this negativity has its roots in western culture dating as far back as the writings of Plato, who theorized that the rational mind and spirit are separate from and superior to the body. Other important philosophical and theological thinkers like Paul of Tarsus, Augustine and Descartes, to name a few, followed Plato in this dualistic line of reasoning, and thus our intellectual heritage is colored by the assumption that our bodies are dangerously animal in nature. To ensure the dominance of reason and the holiness of spirit, then, to ensure the survival of higher humanity, we must make sure our bodies are tightly controlled. And controlling our bodies means controlling our desires, particularly our desire for food. No wonder food and eating can be such loaded topics.

As an antidote to the eat-fast-so-you-don’t-have-to-feel-bad mode of our culture, Donald Altman points out rituals common to the spiritual meal practices of Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and encourages us to learn from them. In most of these traditions, the first thing one does is wash the hands, and then the meal begins with a prayer. Some kind of attentive practice follows while dining, and then the meal concludes with a prayer or blessing. In the Jewish tradition, all aspects of the spiritual meal are to be savored and blessed, whether it is a Sabbath meal, or a meal of remembrance, like the Passover Seder. Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan says that “in Jewish teachings… it is taught that when a person eats, he (or she) should concentrate totally on the food and the experience of eating it…. He (or she) should have in mind that the taste of the food is also an expression of the Divine in the food, and that by eating it, he is incorporating this spark of the Divine into his body.”

In Christian tradition, the attentive aspect is to remember that food, like the Eucharistic meal, can be a vehicle for transcendence. And in Islamic tradition, according to Altman, “every meal contains the potential to express God’s will regarding prayer, feeding others, and eating lawful and allowable foods to encourage good personal health.” (p. 93) In Hinduism and Indian culture, and in Buddhism, an important part of the attentive practice is hospitality to guests, without whom the meal would not be a spiritual one. nd both traditions encourage us to be consciously aware of And observe our desires while we are eating and enjoying our food. To accomplish this, sometimes a meal is conducted in silence.

A few years ago, a group of my ministerial colleagues spent a day of our Fall retreat in silence, including during mealtimes. Normally when Unitarian Universalist clergy gather, our meetings and breaks are full of banter and loud with laughter and meaningful talk. But not that day. During our meals, I was amazed and surprised by the taste of the food, and how little of it I really needed to satisfy my hunger when I could really savor its flavor and feel in my mouth and stomach without distraction. Given the chance, my body knew just what the right amount of food was.

Thich Nhat Hanh says, “Eating is a deep practice. … We can practice mindfulness of eating… . We chew our food very carefully and with a lot of joy. From time to time, we stop chewing and get in touch with the friends, family, or sangha-community of practitioners-around us. We appreciate that it is wonderful to be sitting here chewing like this, not worrying about anything. When we eat mindfully, we are not … chewing our anger, our anxiety, or our projects. We are chewing the food, prepared lovingly by others. It is very pleasant. … You may want to try chewing like this today. Be aware of each movement of your mouth. You will discover that the food tastes so delicious.”

“When you serve yourself, he continues, “be aware of your eyes. Don't trust them. It is your eyes that push you to take too much food. … The Chinese term for the alms bowl used by a monk or nun means ‘the instrument for appropriate measure.’ … If the food comes to the top of the bowl, we know that it is largely sufficient. We take only that amount of food. If you can eat like that, you can afford to buy less. When you buy less food, you can afford to buy organically grown food. This is something that we can do, alone or in our families. (From “Anger” by Thich Nhat Hanh, found at http://www.thinkingpeace.com/Lib/lib087.html)

Thich Nhat Hanh’s words begin to point us toward a wider aspect of eating as a spiritual practice – that not only how we eat but what we eat is important. Those of you who read the UU World magazine may have seen an article titled “Eating Ethically” in the spring issue (http://www.uuworld.org/ideas/articles/11130.shtml) Amy Hassinger, the author, writes, “Few things in life are more intimate than eating. When I eat a tomato, I am transforming it into my body. I take it into my mouth; my saliva and gastric juices break it down into nutrients that feed my muscles, my bones, my brain, my skin. Nor am I eating only a tomato: I’m eating the sun, soil, and rain that grew it. I’m also communing with the workers who planted the seed, cultivated the plant, and picked the fruit. Eating, even eating alone, is always a form of communion. It may be the most powerful way we Unitarian Universalists have of experiencing our Seventh Principle, of participating in the ‘interdependent web of all existence.’” (p. 30)

That 7th principle guides us here in our work as an “earth ministry” church, a green sanctuary congregation – our work to reduce our carbon footprint, to live as sustainably as possible as a congregation and as individuals. Everywhere we go these days, we read and hear more about global warming as more and more organizations and individuals realize that we must act to save our planet.

But sometimes it is hard to know what we can really do to live more sustainably in the midst of busy lives. Lasting change comes only when we understand what is needed so deeply that we feel it in our own bodies. We know in our minds that we should drive our cars less, use our air conditioning and other energy-consumptive appliances less, and buy organic foods whenever we can. We know. But what our bodies feel is the urge to get somewhere fast, the need to cool off right away; and the hunger that must be satisfied now, that cannot wait until a meal has been planned, shopped for and cooked. As more than one sage has written, sometimes the longest journey is from the head to the heart. What will get us to actually change our behavior?

When I was at the Unitarian Universalist General Assembly in Portland, Oregon in June, I was part of an earth ministry public witness with hundreds of other people that took place outside the convention center at noon one day. There were many inspiring speakers, but the person whose words really touched my heart was Jeri Sundvall Williams, an activist with Oregon’s Environmental Justice Action Group. Williams is a member of the Klamath people, a Native American tribal group upon whose original lands the convention center now stands. She spoke of the issues her group is addressing – specifically the dumping of toxic wastes in low-income communities whose residents are primarily people of color, and the environmental hazards low-income people experience in the workplace. She changed gears to speak of steps we might take, and said loudly “WE MUST STOP WORSHIPPING THE GOD OF OIL!” and my heart leaped. I have been thinking about her words of truth and trying to live them since that time.

Now, you might be wondering what worshipping the God of oil has to do with food? Our agricultural system’s dependency on factory farms “stinks of hemorrhaging oil,” says Amy Hassinger. In her article she quotes Michael Pollan, author of a book called “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” who states that every bushel of conventionally grown corn requires a half-gallon of fossil fuel to produce, because nitrogen fertilizers and pesticides are made from fossil fuels. With 60 percent of corn grown in the U.S. going to feed livestock, it’s easy to figure out that a typical steer consumes about 284 gallons of oil in its lifetime. “That’s enough fuel to drive an average car from New York to Los Angeles and back.” (World article) So when I am eating my lunchtime cheeseburger from Culver’s, I also am eating oil – I am worshipping the God of oil…. “In fact, researchers at the University of Chicago just discovered that we could slow the rate of climate change more effectively if meat-eaters went vegan than if they traded their gas-guzzlers in for hybrids.”! (World article (http://www.uuworld.org/ideas/articles/11130.shtml) PLEASE NOTE: the figures quoted on the energy costs of raising livestock have been criticized as too high, so remember not to believe everything you read! The article still is very valuable, however.)

It is better for vegetarians and vegans, but before you start feeling too smug, remember that how much better depends on what is being eaten. You may have heard the phrase, “Local is the new organic,” which means that food grown locally, even if it is not organically produced, may impact the earth less harshly overall than organic foods brought in from afar. In other words, if you are eating fresh organic strawberries in December, you can bet that they didn’t come from our great State of Wisconsin, and so technically you’re “eating” the fossil fuels that fired the truck they came in on along with the fruit. You are worshipping the God of oil.

This is a small window into what is wrong with the food system in the United States. The World article says much more – explaining not only the ills, like huge disparities in access to fresh food between different racial and economic groups and tremendous loss of biodiversity -- but it also provides many ways we can help make things better – things as simple as shopping at local farmer’s markets. I won’t repeat them all here -- there are a few copies of the article on the table in the foyer, and the link to its location on the internet will be in the web posting of this sermon.

What I believe we need to do is to take advantage of the opportunity to change our behavior each morsel of food presents to us. Each time we are about to put food into our mouths, we can remember what Thich Nhat Hanh said in our reading today – that our bodies do not belong to us. The [Buddhist] teaching of emptiness tells us, “your body belongs to your ancestors, your parents, and future generations. It also belongs to society and to all the other living beings. All of them have come together to bring about the presence of this body -- the trees, clouds, everything. Keeping your body healthy” including eating mindfully “is to express gratitude to the whole cosmos, to all ancestors, and also not to betray the future generations. We practice this precept for the whole cosmos … [and] everyone can benefit from it -- not only … men and women, but [also] … animals, plants, and minerals.” (http://dharma.ncf.ca/introduction/precepts/precept-5.html adapted)

This is not our usual Western way of understanding the world or our place in it. It’s very challenging. I wonder how my behavior would change if I truly believed that my body is not a thing, not a possession, not a tool or a machine or a means to an end. That’s what our UU 7th principle calls us to take into our hearts and live from – the reality that each of us was brought into being by many convergences upon the earth, and thus we must care for ourselves as a part of that interdependent web of being if future earth generations are to thrive.

And so, when we sit down at the table, let us pause for a moment of reverence before we begin to eat. Each bite can be a prayer of gratitude for the sun and the soil and the rain, for the hands of the farmer and the food processor and the cook. Let us be passionate about our meals, chewing each delicious morsel more than twenty times, like our parents demanded when we were children, allowing the flood of saliva in our mouths to remind us of our connection to all the waters of the earth and of our kinship with the living animals and plants in those waters. And with each swallow, let us promise to take one more manageable step tomorrow than we did today towards living in a more earth-friendly manner.

In this way, we will come to know that food is not just food – it is the most powerful way we Unitarian Universalists have of living our respect for the interdependent web of all existence. Food is a vehicle for transformation. And our eating will become a spiritual practice – a soulful practice that helps us heal our world.

May it be so – may we make it so.

Amen.