A Feast for the Soul
A Sermon byKatherine Jesch
November 23, 2000
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
Bethesda, Maryland
Food is one of my favorite subjects, so when I found out I was to preach on Thanksgiving Day, I just couldn't pass up the
opportunity to talk about food. "What better topic for our annual food orgy than food and spirituality?" I asked myself.
The children's story at our inter-generational service last Sunday described a wonderful and familiar Thanksgiving memory:
dinner at Grandma's, tons of food, all kinds of scents and sounds, tastes and treats; grandchildren, aunts and uncles, games
and stories; lots of ritual, including the breaking of wishbones by all the children. Even though my own childhood
Thanksgivings didn't have many of those elements, I still developed the image of the Hallmark verse, the Kodak moment,
the Norman Rockwell painting. These images are infused in our culture. In spite of the story of the pilgrims and Indians at
the original Thanksgiving feast, turkey dinner at Grandma's is still The American icon for many in our culture.
At its most basic, food of course is central to survival. But homo sapiens is the only species that makes a bigger deal out of
it than just survival. We not only eat to live, we have developed great traditions of living to eat. Practically every social
occasion is organized around food and drink, whether it's a date with a new friend, a quick meeting after school, a Saturday
evening community gathering, or even our social hour after church every Sunday.
I've been cooking since I was six years old. No, I'm not exaggerating! I remember pulling a dining room chair up to the
stove, so I could reach the top to turn the hamburgers. My mother had just had a baby, or was about to have - I don't
remember which. My dad was in the kitchen, but I remember I was doing the cooking myself. And I've been cooking ever
since.
In retrospect, at least one reason I learned so well was because it was one of the few ways I could get my dad's attention.
Come to think of it, it still works that way! Aside from that, though, it always gives me a feeling of accomplishment and
pleasure in giving others pleasure, plus the result is always something good to eat.
My favorite task growing up was making the bread. I first learned how when I was about ten. The next Christmas, my
mother gave us some magazines with recipes and proposed that we each choose one recipe to become our Christmas
tradition. I chose Julekaka, a Norwegian fruit bread flavored with cardamom. I loved to make it . . . Mmmm! My hands
would smell like cardamom and yeast for hours! And the bread was scrumptious!
But what about the spiritual aspects of food? I have to admit I never saw a spiritual connection until the last few years.
Food was food. Period. Perhaps it was my lack of faith that made me blind to the work of the spirit in the kitchen and
dining room.
Certainly there is significance beyond nutrition and pure pleasure. Because food is such a communal experience, I saw that
it had a special role in gathering and building community. Some years ago, I used to teach workshops on conflict resolution
and consensus building. My partner in these events always wanted to start the workshop with a pot luck meal. Seems like a
lot of trouble I would say. But he insisted, and it was always rewarding.
Have you ever been to a bad pot luck? Not often, I would guess. Well, pot luck makes a really great metaphor for the
processes we were teaching. Everyone brings whatever dish they want to share. Everything is laid out on the table, and you
grab a plate. Then you start at one end of the table, looking in every dish, and stopping to smell each one. Sometimes I'll
even put a drop of something on my plate and taste it with my finger to see if I like it. Some things I will pass up, others
will merit a small trial. And some warrant a big serving. After I've satisfied myself on the first round, I usually revisit the
table and sample a couple of other dishes, or take seconds on that casserole that was just wonderful.
This metaphor works very well for a pot luck of ideas. Everyone starts with what they know, what they bring to the party.
You share that with everyone else so they know where you're coming from. But as you listen to their ideas, some may
sound crazy, illogical. Others make some sense, but maybe don't seem to apply very well in this case. But I almost always
find at least something that makes me take another look at what I thought was true. I ingest the idea . . . and can be
changed by it. And even if I never agree with the other person, by tasting their offering, I can at least appreciate their
contribution, and the work it took to prepare it,
I've already mentioned the importance of food for building community. Sharing a communal meal somehow relaxes us. We
feel less threatened, more connected. To me, even more important than sharing the meal might be the work of preparing it.
Collaborating on the menu makes sure that everyone will have at least something they like. Sharing the preparation tasks:
cutting, measuring, stirring, sauteing -- not to mention the cleaning up, all the while sharing stories and jokes - this is the
stuff of community. Once the heat is turned on, rich smells start emerging from the kitchen. The hangers-on in the other
room finally get the message and are lured in to join the fray. It's a wonderful party! You can't help but get closer with that
kind of sharing.
We learn from infancy that sharing food is a very powerful way of sharing love. Our mother feeds us, therefore she loves us.
Or is it the other way around -- she loves us, therefore she feeds us? No matter...it works both ways. If someone is sick,
the neighbor brings a casserole. To celebrate a birthday, promotion, whatever, your spouse takes you out to dinner. If I got
sick when I was little, my mother would fix me soft boiled eggs. When I had braces on in high school, my sister would
make me a special milkshake in the blender with strawberries and bananas.
Most cultures and religions intuitively have developed ceremonies and rituals that use food as a vehicle to connect to the
deeper significance and meaning of life.
For example, Judaism holds a profound reverence and compassion for all life. This is directly carried into the dietary laws
and traditions. Devout Jews debate endlessly about the proper "eating style" that most accurately reflects Jewish concepts
of holiness: is it the pure plant-based diet of Adam and Eve, or a meat-inclusive diet? What about the dietary rules of
Kashrut that define ritually pure, kosher food?
Whatever the answer, the philosophical debates suggest it's important to pay attention to the foods we choose in our
everyday life. But on a more profound level, following these laws can inspire us to link the food we eat to the compassion
at the core of this ancient faith. Whether the dietary laws are interpreted literally, metaphorically, morally, or ethically, Jews
understand that all food should be savored with a sense of holiness.
The Greek Testament (or New Testament) is full of food miracles that show how to be nourished with God's divine grace.
But the liturgy of the Last Supper is a food miracle in a realm all its own. As the heart and soul of the Christian faith, it
transforms bread and wine either literally or symbolically (depending on your beliefs) into the body and blood of Jesus.
In the early days after the crucifixion, local followers took part in the Eucharist in the privacy of their own homes. Gathering
in Jesus' name, they integrated the breaking of bread and drinking of wine into their ordinary meals. For the early Christians,
the sharing of both a meal and the Eucharist added to their sense of purpose. In Paul's writings, the body of Christ is the
Church, so when Christians share this common meal together, it is a recognition of their interrelationship and unity with one
another. Drawn together as a family, they become brothers and sisters together in Christ.
India's great traditions and religions are filled with food celebrations and ceremonies. Studying food in the culture of India
is a journey into the yogic world of Sanatana dharma, the Sanskrit expression for the underlying, eternal, true essence of all
religions.
The yogic diet is a part of a deep spiritual well. It nourishes the body, certainly. But by encouraging us to bring a loving
consciousness to our food, it also nourishes the mind and spirit.
To pursue the spiritual life, we must honor all living things - including food - as part of an interdependent oneness. (Sounds
sort of like our Seventh Principle, don't you think?)
This tradition began nearly 4,000 years ago when the original yogis recorded their mystical insights and wisdom in the
Upanishads. They found that certain foods would tend to deposit toxins in the body, making it difficult to be still, to sit
quietly and meditate, or to maintain certain poses. This rather esoteric understanding of food and its affect on the body
eventually became a basis for the Hindu philosophy found in the sacred texts. The Bhagavad Gita created a nutrition
philosophy that describes foods as capable of influencing spiritual progress.
Other Asian Cultures are filled with centuries-old traditions having social harmony as the main ingredient. These traditions
are well seasoned with spiritual significance.
As one of the most ancient cultures, China has gifted the world with a vast array of gastronomic delights and food related
festivities. Who doesn't enjoy a great Chinese banquet with dozens of dishes served family style so everyone can share?
Yet underlying its immense culinary gifts are the even deeper meanings China has attributed to food: a harmonious bond
between humankind and nature, a vehicle for social interaction, and an offering of reciprocity and communication between
earthly human and heavenly spiritual beings.
The great Buddhist Master Dogen taught that the practice of eating is the essential truth of all dharmas or teachings of
Buddhism. At the very moment of eating, we merge with ultimate reality. Thus dharma is eating, and eating is dharma.
And this eating is full of holy joy and ecstasy. We might have experienced a bit of this in the food meditation a few minutes
ago: attending to the selection, preparation, serving, the act of eating itself, even the "clean-up" and metabolism that occurs
after we've eaten. These practices are intended to free our inner wisdom and reveal the true self.
The traditional tea ceremony of Japan is filled with this spiritual symbolism. It integrates the spiritual with the secular in a
very simple yet profound act. This "Way of Tea" was developed by Zen Buddhist monks in the fifteenth century. The
ceremony was designed to enrich both body and soul, thus elevating tea to the realm of spiritual art. Cha-no-yu as it is
called, literally means "hot water for tea." It consists in nothing else but boiling water, making tea, and sipping it. It's based
in part on the etiquette of serving tea, but it also includes the aesthetic contemplation of landscape gardens, tea utensils,
paintings, flower arrangement, and all other elements that coexist in a harmonious relationship with the ceremony. Its
ultimate aim is the attainment of a deep spiritual satisfaction through the drinking of tea and through silent contemplation.
These stories of various cultures don't begin to transmit the depth and complexities of the cultural and religious traditions.
There is more to each story, and there are more stories. But they all show that each time we approach food - whether in
gardening, shopping, cooking, or eating - we have an opportunity to access a meditative consciousness and make the
experience "an aspect of the sacred."
Creating a meditative consciousness may serve as the vehicle upon which our spirits can soar. In this way, we can receive
the physical, psychological, and spiritual nourishment inherent in all of our food related activities.
Exploring our spiritual connectedness to food is a lifetime adventure. When we bring a loving awareness to our meals, food
holds the potential to nurture within us a soul-satisfying connection to something larger than ourselves. Indeed, it serves to
remind us that food is a medium between nature and ourselves. Approaching food with feelings and intentional thought
implies an interrelationship among ourselves and other living entities - whether soil, plants, food animals; food
"intermediaries" such as farmers, grocers, and chefs; or our friends and families.
As we experience these connections, along with absorbing food's nutrients comes the possibility of integrating the
consciousness of all who have had contact with the food. In this way, the food we eat may help us to stumble across life's
true essence: the unity and oneness of all life that's suggested by saints, mystics, and scientists alike.
Psychologist Michael Mayer says that "when you meditate before eating, you're eating from that place of spirit and
appreciation. And when you appreciate something, your heart is open, and the chemistry of the body burns food in a
different way. Experimentally, it's like a higher octane gas that burns with less residue."
Interconnectedness. Spirit and body chemistry. Loving intention. Living with an awareness of oneness with all aspects of
life. These concepts lie at the heart of enlightened eating and the mystery of food's ability to nourish both body and soul.
By approaching food meditatively and with loving intention, we may go beyond the level of thought and intuit the sacred
connection between Mother Earth, food, and humankind. In this way, all of the methods and practices of sacred traditions
help us to perceive food as a life force, a nurturer, a gift that recharges and sustains. We need only take time to listen to the
message that emerges from the union of food, body, and soul.
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
9601 Cedar Lane
Bethesda, Maryland 20814-4099
Tel: 301-493-8300
Fax: 301-897-5713
e-mail:n cluuc@his.com
Sunday Services at 9:00 and 10:45 a.m.
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