Stuffed and Starved

Introduction

(The food crisis)

We have a number of cultural crises on our hands. We have a “compassion crisis”: “that terrifying lack of compassion and care that has settled in on all of us.” We also have a “food crisis,” which is both physical and spiritual. We are physically stuffed and spiritually starved.

Physically stuffed

We see our food crisis walking up and down our cities streets. Our most serious health problem is our over weight. We, the American people, are the heaviest people in the world, and our state of Wisconsin is one of the four fattest states in the Union. Over and over again we see the TV commercials addressing the problem of obesity. Most of the time the suggested “remedies” are either shallow or downright deceitful. Like the one that has you sitting on the sofa like a couch potato eating potato chips and chocolates, and you have electronic patches hitched up to various parts of your body, and they wiggle various muscles of yours. And lo and behold, you wiggle away your weight, with absolutely no effort on your part except to turn on the machine. This is a perfect example of how stupid exaggerated capitalism thinks you are. And we’re almost tempted to say that whoever is deceived by such a commercial deserves it.

Our food crisis gets worse, and it calls for a remedy that is much more profound than some electronic patch, or some slim-drink, or even that “jumping up and down” called “aerobics.” We need a more spiritual approach to food in our struggle with weight. But what in the world is a “spiritual approach to food?”

It is seeing food, first and foremost, as a remedy for hunger. And nobody knows that better than those starving people whom we see in the evening news. Food is not a remedy for our nervousness or boredom. We should use other means than food to solve those problems.

A spiritual approach to food keeps reminding us that it doesn’t come from supermarkets but from farmers’ fields. It is fruit of the earth and the “work of human hands.” In the old days it was called “autumn’s bounty and blessing against the long winter night.”

A spiritual approach to food sees it as “untouched by human hands,” – not processed, not preserved, not packaged unto death and beyond all recognition. It sees a potato as an honest-to-God potato (not as potato-chip and much less as potato powder that you mix with water.)

A spiritual approach to food sees it not as junk that you pick up in the fast lane. Rather as something you lovingly labor over and wait for. You wait for good bread as you kneed the dough, and give it time to rise, and then send it off to the oven. You wait for good spaghetti sauce as you turn the flame down low, and stir and stir and stir.

A spiritual approach to food doesn’t see it as just one more bit of busyness that life dumps on your already busy day. Rather it is kind of sacred activity that puts you in touch with your ethnic source, and with loved ones of the past who prepared many a wonderful banquet for you. Such sacred activity might wear you down a bit but it also energizes and re-creates you. -- A spiritual approach sees food not as a drive through the fast lane, but it is a celebration that calls us to slow down and linger with each other.

I am well aware that all this sounds a bit vague or unrealistic, especially in our society where both have to work their heads off to make a living. And I also hasten to add that this isn’t a crusade against McDonalds or all the other fast-food joints. It is simply about a more spiritual approach to food that we need. In the long run, that’s more helpful than the electronic patches or the slim-drinks or the contrived jumping up and down.

Spiritually starved

We are talking about our food crisis: we are not only physically stuffed, we are also spiritually starved. //When we make plush homes or extravagant cars or extreme gadgetry the all-absorbing target of our lives, but then feel disappointed when we’ve finally laid hold of them -- that’s spiritual hunger. We hunger for Bread from Heaven; the Bread that won’t let us down. //When we’ve finally attained whatever goal we had set for ourselves but then feel gypped – that’s spiritual hunger. We’re hungry for Bread from Heaven; the Bread that won’t let us down. //When evening sets in on our Christmas Day, which we had waited and waited for, but then feel strangely sad, -- that's spiritual hunger. We’re hungry for Bread from Heaven; the Bread that won’t let us down..

//When farewells rip friends from our lives or when death robs us of loving creatures and we feel the big hollow hole that grief has dug in our hearts, -- that's spiritual hunger. We’re hungry for Bread from Heaven; the Bread that won’t let us down. // When the melancholic emptiness of September and October sets in on us, after the fullness of summer, and we feel in our bones that we are in exile, that we don’t have here an everlasting home, and that life is a journey, -- that's spiritual hunger. We’re hungry for Bread from Heaven; the Bread that won’t let us down.

Not in touch

Though all are spiritually hungry, not all are in touch with their hunger. We recall the parable about a very foolish rich farmer, who had a bumper crop and didn't know what to do with it all? Said he to himself, "I know what I'll do. I'll tear down my bins, and build bigger and better ones, and there I shall pile up all my grain. Then I shall say to myself: `You've got it made for years to come. Relax now, eat heartily, drink well, enjoy yourself'" But in the middle of the night the angel of death comes, and says it all in two words: "You fool."

I used to think the parable was a typical invitation to a joyless and lifeless life that Christianity sometimes is accused of. I used to think it scolded people for relaxing, eating heartily, drinking well. It doesn’t scold people for enjoying life; it scolds people for not enjoying life. It scolds people for spending their whole lives building the bins of life but never really drawing life from the bins. It scolds people who are spiritually hungry (and that’s everyone) but who are not in touch with their hunger.

In touch

<<Some people are in touch. In one of his TV promotional pitches, Billy Graham had a black businessman saying, "Things are all starting to come together for me; all the things I have been working for, I mean. I've got my education, landed a good job. I'm making good money. Even bought a new car. Like I say, it's all starting to happen." And just when you're expecting a Jimmy Bakker pitch ("See how prosperity comes with being godly?”) you get something quite different. Instead the young man asks, "Why do I feel so empty inside, as if all this isn't really the bottom-line?">>

Conclusion

We have a huge problem today. "They" keep telling us that all the economic indicators are good now: economic growth is up, inflation down, jobs are up, welfare is down. There's word even that violent crime is down. Things are getting better and better but, "they" tell us, we are feeling worse and worse. There's a basic national discontent out there consuming us. Some are in touch with it and some are not. The discontent is this: People have no prime-time any more: no prime-time for their children and the family dog; no prime-time for their spouses; no prime-time especially for themselves (if you're no good for yourself, you're no good for anybody else). The discontent is about the huge expenditure of energy and time on the part of both parents in order to make a living, with really no prime-time to live.

In a word no prime-time for spiritual food. That’s the food that feeds the spirit, and it is a whole litany of things. And some of them are not as disembodied or fleshless as “spiritual food” might sound. //Early dawn at the lake with sunrise on the horizon and a faithful friend at my side -- that's spiritual bread for me. It feeds my spirit. And it's certainly not disembodied, as creation itself is not disembodied. //For years now I have been hooked on the enchanting music of the Orthodox Church—that’s spiritual bread for me. It feeds my spirit.

Spiritual Bread is a whole litany of things that spirals upward to embrace also prayer, meditation, the biblical word of God. It spirals upward and it summits in the Eucharist -- that’s the Bread held on high in the Sunday Assembly as symbol, sacrament, reminder of our spiritual hunger. That’s the Bread that bids us go forth into the week ahead, determined not only to build bigger and better bins of life but also to draw life from the bins. Determined not only to make a living but also to live.