There is a hollow growing inside with each turn of page. I’m reading the first five essays in The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Feasting and Fasting Toward God, the current High Calling Blogs book club selection.
You might think the hollow I refer to is a gnawing hunger, considering I am reading a book about food. You would be right, in a way. But it is not my stomach that is growling—it is my soul.
Each essay serves up a slice of this ache, prepared in varying manner. One essay in particular whispered of our loss of worship in this age of prepackaged goods. This is the one that captured me. This is Patty Kirk’s essay, “Wild Berries.”
Here she laments that we have lost our connection to food and to the land and to our roots and to our God. That’s not how God started it off. In the beginning, God looked upon all He created and pronounced it good—He stood back and admired it, admired His work. Connected.
Likewise, we, made in God’s image, are called to take what God has created and join the act. We can create with the raw material God put on this Earth. We can plant and grow and harvest and mix ingredients together and pronounce it good—we stand back and admire God’s provision and creativity in what has been made for us to enjoy. We are to connect what we have made to what God has made and thereby gain our place in the world.
But the modern age has robbed us of this holy calling to create and connect and be:
“Recipes don’t start with raising and slaughtering animals or with harvesting and grinding our flour but with packaged meat, prepared grains, and fruits and vegetables that have been grown and picked and often partially or entirely cooked or preserved before we ever see them. The only part left of the creative act is the combining and pronouncing good, and more and more people leave even those opportunities for worship to restaurants and underpaid factory workers they will never meet.”1
Prepackaged foods rob us of worship because our hands are detached from the created order. I pick apples from a bin of hundreds, forgetting that not long ago, the fruit was attached to a tree and that tree was rooted to the ground and those roots pulled in moisture and nutrients from the loam. The apple is earth in a variant form.
Maybe this is the best argument for mealtime grace in our modern age. Before we consume the food we haven’t planted or tended or harvested or prepared, we stop and remember the hands that did. We stop to acknowledge the Almighty hands of our Creator who made it the first time around. And we then pronounce it good.
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Read more posts from this week’s discussion on The Spirit of Food.
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Sources
1. The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Feasting and Fasting Toward God, edited by Leslie Leyland Fields, (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2010), 5–6.
Image: www.leslie-leyland-fields.com/books/the-spirit-of-food.html
Monday, January 3, 2011 at 8:57 am
“a hollow growing inside”. This is a good way to describe the way I feel reading these beautiful essays also, Erin. I found myself in tears a few times as I went through these worshipful descriptions of food preparation.
I”m so glad you are joining us in this walk. Yes, I’m finding it a good read and a good reason for mealtime grace :).
I felt convicted of how I just want to get meals done with to move on to something else. I love good food; I love reading about recipes; I love trying new foods. So now I’m wondering why I am lacking joy in actually preparing it myself. I don’t want to overspiritualize it, but I also think I could have sweet communion with the Lord in it, and I’m missing it b/c I am irritated. I’m looking forward to more essays to peel back my crusty heart layers! —es
Monday, January 3, 2011 at 9:36 am
You know, I almost excerpted that exact same passage when I was first writing about this set of essays, erin.
I’m so glad you’re part of this conversation. I’m feeling the soul-ache, too, and I have felt this urge to *do* something. So I baked bread. I’m planning the spring garden. I made chili, though I relied on cans. I thought of my blackberries picked last summer and sitting in the freezer. As you may note if you visit my post, I also considered my parents’ land again…should we move and dwell in that land? Are we the ones to love and tend it?
What shall I do?
And so I slice another piece of bread and think about it some more.
And I give thanks.
I wanted to make something too! I’m a sweets baker, and I do prep meals, but something is lacking in how I go about my task. I love the idea of making what is needed to sustain my kitchen—bread, sauces, soups. After I read about your milling experience a few months back, I was interested in following your lead! Then I saw it again in your post. I’m considering that again. —es
Monday, January 3, 2011 at 12:00 pm
The apple as earth…. So true.
And I, too, am of Earth.
This book is more than a book about food, just as you say. It’s about our deeper connection to a place we call home for a time.
So grateful for your thoughtful and challenging contributions to the discussion. I’m learning much as I make my way through the book’s essays, and now through the blog posts.
I can’t wait to dig into the posts! Just great discussion so far. I’ll be over to visit you as I can be. —es
Monday, January 3, 2011 at 12:50 pm
Ann and Laura–thanks so much for this post! I am just as excited to read other’s responses to these essays as I was when I first read the essays in the book! The topic is so rich and deep–I’m not sure we can exhaust it–especially when we flesh it out with our own particular lives, lands, families and kitchens. I too find myself hurrying through cooking at times—and have realized that there simply are days when I have to get food on the table asap—but I can do this without guilt, knowing another time is coming when I can luxuriate and dawdle and worship during the movement of the knife, the tossing of the cabbage, the arrangement of the fruit on the platter.
Hello, Leslie! So glad to have you stop in here. I’m enjoying the book, and it sounds like everyone else is too. I look forward to more good musings to come from the HCB book club. —es
Monday, January 3, 2011 at 2:44 pm
Excellent point. Thanks for reminding us of the importance of thanking God for things we often take for granted.
As you read, I am wondering at the apple tree—how amazing this thing exists! God created it, we get to tend it, we get to eat it—and then we get to praise God for His handiwork. Amazing! Too often I forget the last part, I forget to praise and adore what God has made. —es
Tuesday, January 4, 2011 at 1:01 pm
We have a little song that we sing as a before-mealtime prayer that is a good reminder of the points you make in this post:
In back of the bread is the flour
In back of the flour is the mill
In back of the mill is the wind and the rain
And the Maker’s will.
Big New Year hugs to you, dear friend. I miss you and hope we can get together for coffee soon.
oo! I like that a lot. And YES! Coffee. Soon. Been praying for you even though I’ve been MIA due to deadlines and lack of sleep. Give me two weeks? Panera, clear our table . . . —es