Have you ever considered what you eat and how you eat it from a theological angle? It’s a conviction of mine that everything is theological, and that God’s people can speak to all of life with his word and reflection. There’s nothing that the Bible doesn’t speak to, for all we must admit that some matters it speaks to more tangentially than others.
There’s a whole literature on the theology of food, which I must admit to not having read. As a result, this post is brief not so much in length but in breadth: this is a sketch of the contours of how we think about food and about eating.
Food is not fuel
We live in a moment that wants us to think that we’re machines. We eat to ‘refuel’ our bodies to go again. There’s obviously something true in that we can’t go without eating for all that long (though it’s a heck of a lot longer than most people think, as anyone who has done some serious fasting can attest to), but we don’t eat to ‘refuel’ as though it were a required task that we can forget about once it’s done.
The trees in the garden were ‘good for food’ (Genesis 2), which is to say that they were to be enjoyed. Bacon sandwiches are not fuel, I’m sure they allow my body to continue but they’re also art. Any suggestion that a good future would be one when we don’t have to prepare or eat food—which is common in science fiction—is not a good or godly vision of life.
Food is a gift
All food is a gift, whether we grow it or we buy it or it comes directly from the windows of heaven as flakes in the desert (Exodus 16, Malachi 3). We don’t have anything which isn’t a gift from the hand of God (James 1), whatever proximate causes there may be, the Lord is always the ultimate giver.
When we dig into rich chocolate sundaes and slice our knives into tender steak these are good gifts that God has given us. When cheese exists, how could God not love us? When eggs exist, how can we doubt the creator?
Gluttony is a sin, feasting is not
Any good thing that we become addicted to is a problem (Philippians 3). Any good thing that becomes an ultimate thing—that we make into an idol—is a problem. Indulging lavishly when those around you don’t have anything is a problem. And by problem we mean sin, of which we need to repent.
We can massively overinterpret these truths though. Feasting is good. Israel was patterned by feasts (Leviticus 23), and while keeping those specific feasts is not required for Christians (Galatians 3), the concept of fasting and feasting is still a good one. Jesus assumes his people will fast, after all (Matthew 5). We shouldn’t feast every day, but patterns in our lives when we indulge in celebration through the things we eat and drink are good practices.
How we grow our food matters
There’s lots to say here, and I’m no expert on farming practices, but God cared about how Israel grew their food (e.g. Leviticus 25—though you could also look at how something like Farming God’s Way has wide-ranging impacts in Sub-Saharan Africa) and well as that their practices left opportunity for the poor (Leviticus 19).
In a world where we are often entirely divorced from the production of our food, we should consider where it comes from and that it matters. One of the challenges here is developing answers that don’t require you to be incredibly middle-classed and get your vegetables from the farmers market and your ribs from the local butcher. We need solutions that the poor can get in on too. While we figure that out I reckon that those who can afford to do so have something of a moral duty to ensure they have some idea where their food comes from and that it’s in accordance with broad Biblical principles.
Tables are eucharistic
Clearly the Lord’s Table is ‘eucharistic,’ but the term means that it is a thanksgiving. We should give thanks to God for the food and drink we consume.
Sure, pray during your meals and thank God. More than that though, when you encounter a wedge of potato that someone has lovingly fried in beef dripping, that you have slathered in vinegar and salt and then dipped into gravy thick enough to stand the chip up in, remember that God gave you this wonder and be delighted at his goodness. Taste and see (Psalm 34) the word says, and we can in the Lord’s Supper, but we also encounter an echo of it in every good thing that we eat.
If you’re not from the north of England or haven’t developed a taste for chips and gravy (I’m a southerner who’s lived in the midlands long enough to be converted) then imagine whatever you like that is just delicious. It works whether it’s the heights of Michelin cuisine (perhaps a beautiful piece of Turbot lovingly fried with samphire) or a sausage roll from Greggs (hot, with the pastry flaking, on a cold day). Give thanks for he is good!
Table practices unite (and divide) us
We are brought together at the Table, our divisions are shown at the table. We both need to adopt the customs of our host, and the need to adopt the customs show up the fault lines that sit between us.
Yet, there is nothing that brings people together like eating. If you want to get to know someone, invite them over for a bottle of wine and a vat of something hot and filling. I’ve only had this not work when they turned out to be teetotal, which we laughed about over water and a vat of something hot and filling—which means it worked anyway.
Eating is to be enjoyed
I’m hoping I’ve made this point. Food is good. God is good. Eating is not a chore. Tuck in!
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