Some weeks ago, I wrote a series on my theology of preaching. Now, to try the same thing with my theology of the eucharist. Part 1 -- on the theology of food.
Food is such a common part of life that it might seem strange to suggest a theology of eating. It's easy to think about food as a banality of life. It's just a way of maintaining our bodies. It has a necessary economy in which some people are the producers and we're all consumers (of some kind or another).
God deals with food all throughout Scripture. God tells us what to eat and what not to eat, often has a place set in feasts, requests food sacrifices, and even eats with people in bodily form. Though we are inclined to think of food in terms of biological necessity, God — who has no such needs — is surprisingly involved in our meals.
For this post I want to emphasize one way that our understanding of food is shaped by our theology: Food is a way God mediates or communicates God's life to us. This may seem like a radical claim. I will explain and defend it at various points in the series. For now, let me clarify by saying that I mean both that food is a way that God sustains and provides for us (consider Genesis 1.27-30); and that food is a way that God is personally present to us in fellowship and in giving life to us (consider Exodus 16.4-5, 15; Deuteronomy 8.3-10; Isaiah 25.6; Matthew 6.11, 31-33; Mark 14.22-25; Luke 15.23-24, 24.30-31; John 2.1-11; Revelation 22.1-3). Because all creation is filled with God's creative presence (which I will discuss in the second post), and God is the provider and sustainer of our very being, God uses food as a way of granting this life -- life that is of God -- to us.
In this light, food is not simply a biological or economic fact -- though it is always these things too -- but is also a form of fellowship. This is in a sense a continuation of the theme of love: Eating is a way of loving God and creation. I offer two claims to help guide our thinking about this one thesis.
I.1 Because food is a way God mediates God's life to us, meals are an occasion to recognize that our physical bodies are part of our ongoing relationship with God; so in meals we learn to receive our bodies and their nourishment as gifts, and to offer them to God and one another in return.
Perhaps we are unlikely to think theology is relevant to eating because eating is so ... physical. Isn't theology about spiritual things and not physical? We need to resist that line of thinking because it's a form of the ancient heresy known as Gnosticism, which is a strong form of dualism that separates the spiritual from the physical, makes the spiritual more valuable, and views salvation as an escape from our physical body to exist in a disembodied spiritual state. Our resistance to the bodiliness of eating may be more benign, in that we just may not be sure how to interpret bodily processes theologically. What does chewing, digesting, and evacuating have to do with relating to God?
But as Christians, we have the resources to view the body and physical world as good -- even very good (Genesis 1). In fact, the way God creates humanity is by getting personal with dirt, touching and forming it and breathing life directly into it (Genesis 2.7). In the Genesis 1 account, God doesn't keep humans in the garden but tells them to fill the earth and care for it (1.28). And then, anticipating humanity's bodily needs, God explains that all over the earth there is food that God has given us (1.29). So food is a gift from God, a way God grants life to our earthy bodies -- and remember: All life is from God (Job 27.3; Acts 17.28; 1 Timothy 6.13).
So, in our eating we continually learn to recognize the goodness of our bodies as gifts of God's creative love. One of my favorite hymns says, "Gifted by thee, turn we to thee, offering up ourselves in praise". Meals are an occasion to recognize that our life is a being-gifted-by-God -- which is to say that all that we are is through God's giving. So we receive our bodies and their nourishment as gifts of life, and with our bodies we turn to God, "offering up ourselves in praise" to "the Gracious Donor of our days". When we eat well together, we celebrate the bodily life we share and the presence of God through our material nourishment.
I.2 Because food is a way God communicates God's life to us, meals are an occasion to be gathered together to receive and share God's generosity with one another; so eating with God forms us into appreciative and generous people rather than primarily consumers.
It's hard to imagine a strong community that doesn't eat together. Churches have potlucks, fellowship, and holy day meals. Families often have regular meals together. Friends keep in touch at cafes and diners. And couples learn intimacy through dinner dates. When someone finds a favorite dish or a surprising new flavor, one of the first things they do is share it, either by telling others how good it is or by literally offering others a bite. Eating is a public and shared activity, and when it's shared well it is a happy and joyful time. When we eat food we love with people we love, we tangibly experience the gratuity and superfluous excess of God's creative love. And so we delight in this gift of life and, in the abundance we receive of divine generosity, we share with one another.
As I will elaborate in the third post on reconciliation, God gathers us together to receive from the table and to share in God's own life. When we practice eating as a gift of grace, we become appreciative eaters rather than consumers. Food, like so many other things, has become a money-laden commodity, and so we have unfortunately come to identify the value of food with a price tag. Purchasing something gives us the sense that we deserve it, and by paying the assigned "value" we sense that the product is ours "by right" and not by gift (a point emphasized in so much of Wendell Berry).
The value of food, as this series will hopefully convey, is much more than monetary value. The value of food derives from its role in practices and actions that construct meaning. By eating with God, the meaning constructed in meals is not just what we "make up" but is a meaning received by God's action. God is always the host and so even the food we "buy" is eaten as a gift received from our generous host. God is a welcoming host (Luke 14.16-24; John 2.1-11) who gathers us together at the table. So we learn to mean food in a mode of appreciation and generosity. We appreciate that God has invited us to dine in the divine fellowship and receive the abundance of God's life. And we get caught in this generosity, recognizing that God gives food not just so that we consume and fulfill our own desires but so that we commune by sharing food in fellowship with one another.
_____________________
The title of this blog is taken from Charles Wesley's Eucharistic hymn, "O the Depth of Love Divine". I first heard this hymn (and sang it!) as a seminary student at Duke, introduced to it by Geoffrey Wainwright. And its themes have stuck with me ever since.
Food is such a common part of life that it might seem strange to suggest a theology of eating. It's easy to think about food as a banality of life. It's just a way of maintaining our bodies. It has a necessary economy in which some people are the producers and we're all consumers (of some kind or another).
God deals with food all throughout Scripture. God tells us what to eat and what not to eat, often has a place set in feasts, requests food sacrifices, and even eats with people in bodily form. Though we are inclined to think of food in terms of biological necessity, God — who has no such needs — is surprisingly involved in our meals.
For this post I want to emphasize one way that our understanding of food is shaped by our theology: Food is a way God mediates or communicates God's life to us. This may seem like a radical claim. I will explain and defend it at various points in the series. For now, let me clarify by saying that I mean both that food is a way that God sustains and provides for us (consider Genesis 1.27-30); and that food is a way that God is personally present to us in fellowship and in giving life to us (consider Exodus 16.4-5, 15; Deuteronomy 8.3-10; Isaiah 25.6; Matthew 6.11, 31-33; Mark 14.22-25; Luke 15.23-24, 24.30-31; John 2.1-11; Revelation 22.1-3). Because all creation is filled with God's creative presence (which I will discuss in the second post), and God is the provider and sustainer of our very being, God uses food as a way of granting this life -- life that is of God -- to us.
In this light, food is not simply a biological or economic fact -- though it is always these things too -- but is also a form of fellowship. This is in a sense a continuation of the theme of love: Eating is a way of loving God and creation. I offer two claims to help guide our thinking about this one thesis.
I.1 Because food is a way God mediates God's life to us, meals are an occasion to recognize that our physical bodies are part of our ongoing relationship with God; so in meals we learn to receive our bodies and their nourishment as gifts, and to offer them to God and one another in return.
Perhaps we are unlikely to think theology is relevant to eating because eating is so ... physical. Isn't theology about spiritual things and not physical? We need to resist that line of thinking because it's a form of the ancient heresy known as Gnosticism, which is a strong form of dualism that separates the spiritual from the physical, makes the spiritual more valuable, and views salvation as an escape from our physical body to exist in a disembodied spiritual state. Our resistance to the bodiliness of eating may be more benign, in that we just may not be sure how to interpret bodily processes theologically. What does chewing, digesting, and evacuating have to do with relating to God?
But as Christians, we have the resources to view the body and physical world as good -- even very good (Genesis 1). In fact, the way God creates humanity is by getting personal with dirt, touching and forming it and breathing life directly into it (Genesis 2.7). In the Genesis 1 account, God doesn't keep humans in the garden but tells them to fill the earth and care for it (1.28). And then, anticipating humanity's bodily needs, God explains that all over the earth there is food that God has given us (1.29). So food is a gift from God, a way God grants life to our earthy bodies -- and remember: All life is from God (Job 27.3; Acts 17.28; 1 Timothy 6.13).
So, in our eating we continually learn to recognize the goodness of our bodies as gifts of God's creative love. One of my favorite hymns says, "Gifted by thee, turn we to thee, offering up ourselves in praise". Meals are an occasion to recognize that our life is a being-gifted-by-God -- which is to say that all that we are is through God's giving. So we receive our bodies and their nourishment as gifts of life, and with our bodies we turn to God, "offering up ourselves in praise" to "the Gracious Donor of our days". When we eat well together, we celebrate the bodily life we share and the presence of God through our material nourishment.
I.2 Because food is a way God communicates God's life to us, meals are an occasion to be gathered together to receive and share God's generosity with one another; so eating with God forms us into appreciative and generous people rather than primarily consumers.
It's hard to imagine a strong community that doesn't eat together. Churches have potlucks, fellowship, and holy day meals. Families often have regular meals together. Friends keep in touch at cafes and diners. And couples learn intimacy through dinner dates. When someone finds a favorite dish or a surprising new flavor, one of the first things they do is share it, either by telling others how good it is or by literally offering others a bite. Eating is a public and shared activity, and when it's shared well it is a happy and joyful time. When we eat food we love with people we love, we tangibly experience the gratuity and superfluous excess of God's creative love. And so we delight in this gift of life and, in the abundance we receive of divine generosity, we share with one another.
As I will elaborate in the third post on reconciliation, God gathers us together to receive from the table and to share in God's own life. When we practice eating as a gift of grace, we become appreciative eaters rather than consumers. Food, like so many other things, has become a money-laden commodity, and so we have unfortunately come to identify the value of food with a price tag. Purchasing something gives us the sense that we deserve it, and by paying the assigned "value" we sense that the product is ours "by right" and not by gift (a point emphasized in so much of Wendell Berry).
The value of food, as this series will hopefully convey, is much more than monetary value. The value of food derives from its role in practices and actions that construct meaning. By eating with God, the meaning constructed in meals is not just what we "make up" but is a meaning received by God's action. God is always the host and so even the food we "buy" is eaten as a gift received from our generous host. God is a welcoming host (Luke 14.16-24; John 2.1-11) who gathers us together at the table. So we learn to mean food in a mode of appreciation and generosity. We appreciate that God has invited us to dine in the divine fellowship and receive the abundance of God's life. And we get caught in this generosity, recognizing that God gives food not just so that we consume and fulfill our own desires but so that we commune by sharing food in fellowship with one another.
_____________________
The title of this blog is taken from Charles Wesley's Eucharistic hymn, "O the Depth of Love Divine". I first heard this hymn (and sang it!) as a seminary student at Duke, introduced to it by Geoffrey Wainwright. And its themes have stuck with me ever since.