Sunday, September 7, 2014 | 4:00 p.m.

How You Eat It

John W. Vest
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 119:105–112
Exodus 12:1–14

Imagine, if you will, a favorite family meal. Think about a holiday gathering for which your family might prepare a generous feast. Where are you? Who’s there? What are you eating?

For me, it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter dinner at my grandparents’ house in Arkansas. My grandmother would have started cooking early in the morning, right after breakfast if not before, in preparation for the mid-afternoon feast. There would be a turkey or perhaps a glazed ham—maybe both. At a regular meal, my grandmother almost always had at least three vegetables on the table, so you can imagine how she let herself get carried away for a special holiday meal. There would be multiple vegetables dishes—starches and greens—not to mention numerous salads and casseroles. Her homemade yeast rolls were amazing, especially right out of the oven. Sometimes there was cornbread or dressing, too. And dessert would be a variety of cookies, cakes, and cobblers. Or maybe even something simple like fresh fruit and ice cream.

Whatever that meal is for you, close your eyes and picture it in your mind. Bring yourself to that place. Smell the aromas that fill the air. Taste the goodness of that food, prepared with love by someone special.

Now, imagine that special person—for me, it’s my grandmother—asking you this question after everyone has gathered around the table, ready to dig in: Would you like that for here or to go?

It’s a bit of a non sequitur, isn’t it? I mean, why would we ever think of taking this festive meal, this smorgasbord of love and care, and putting it into little containers and wrappers and stuffing it into a bag so that we could drive away and eat it somewhere else, or even worse eat it while we’re driving? A meal like this is meant to be savored in the company of loved ones. It’s a celebration. It’s a joyful feast of God’s people.

Yet “taking it to go” is exactly what the ancient Israelites did with the very first Passover meal, the most sacred meal of their year. After a list of instructions on how to prepare this meal—which was essentially a big lamb BBQ with unleavened bread cooked quickly before it had time to rise—the Israelites are given this instruction: “This is how you should eat it. You should be dressed, with your sandals on your feet and your walking stick in your hand. You should eat the meal in a hurry. It is the Passover of the Lord.”

This is how you should eat it.

Michael Pollan, in his masterful bestseller The Omnivore’s Dilemma, says that “We are not only what we eat, but how we eat, too” (p. 6). Indeed, the what and the how are the focus of his study. The omnivore’s dilemma of the book’s title derives from the fact that omnivores like humans—species that are not genetically hardwired to eat specific kinds of food—omnivores like we inherently have choices when it comes to what and how we eat. And what and how we eat says a lot about us and what we value and connects us—for good or for ill—to the world around us. “The way we eat represents our most profound engagement with the natural world,” writes Pollan. “Daily, our eating turns nature into culture, transforming the body of the world into our bodies and minds” (p. 10).

Meals on the go are rarely quality examples of turning nature into culture. We eat quick, cheap, and unhealthy food because it’s easy and convenient in the midst of busy and hectic lives. Seldom do we pause to consider the true costs of these meals, which is Pollan’s primary concern in The Omnivore’s Dilemma. He is especially critical of fast food, junk food, processed food, and industrialized meat production, all of which are ultimately sourced by highly subsidized and mass-produced corn.

In addition to the health and environmental costs of these meals, there are socioeconomic costs of which we are becoming more and more aware. This week in Chicago, fifty fast-food workers were arrested for staging nonviolent protests in support of increasing the minimum wage; organizers say that more than 400 were arrested across the country. In Illinois, one worker needs to earn $17.34 per hour in order to afford housing, which means that it takes just over two full-time minimum wage earners to afford housing, not to mention other living costs.

It’s not just what we eat, but how we eat it.

The Israelites ate the first instance of their most sacred meal in a hurry, on the go. It wasn’t for convenience or for affordability, but it was a quick and mobile meal born of necessity. They were, of course, fleeing the captivity of Egyptian slavery and embarking on the long and winding journey toward the promised land. They were ready to go where God would lead them.

Yet it was no doubt a terrifying night for them. After nine horrifying plagues, the firstborn child of every Egyptian family (and even their animals) was being struck down by the wrath of God. This God who had not answered their prayers for hundreds of years was suddenly showing up in a violent display of power. Some of them were surely asking themselves, Who is this God we are following out into an unknown wilderness?

With these fears and these questions swirling in their hearts and minds, the Israelites were told to mark their doors with the blood of the lambs they were instructed to prepare and eat while dressed for travel, with sandals on their feet and walking sticks in their hands. It’s hard to enjoy a meal when you have one foot out the door.

It’s not just what we eat, but how we eat it.

Food was, of course, an important part of Jesus’ ministry. Indeed, Jesus did some of his best work over meals. He ate with sinners and those who were shunned by the community. He fed multitudes with just a few fish and loaves of bread. He shared a final meal with his disciples. After his resurrection and a long walk to town called Emmaus, he revealed himself as the risen Christ during the breaking of bread. And again, after his resurrection, he ate breakfast with his disciples and instructed Peter to care for them after he left.

How striking it is that on the night of his betrayal and arrest, a night in which his mind must have been racing and his heart must have been pounding, Jesus took the time to sit down and enjoy one last meal with his closest friends. Jesus knew that for his sake and for theirs, he needed to slow down and fully experience the last hours of his life.

At this last meal, because it was a Passover meal, Jesus and his disciples remembered this very story of the ancient Israelites and their sacred meal to go. Year after year they shared that story and it became their own story.

In the same way, when we gather at this table we share our sacred story. Week after week we share it and it becomes our own story. Once we were no people, but now we are God’s people. Once we had no name, but now we are called God’s children. Once we were bound in captivity, but now we are free. Once we were in exile, but now we are home. Once we were lost, but now we are found. Once we were dead, but now we are alive.

When we gather at this table we remind ourselves of who we are and who God calls us to be. And if we think about it, in our lives of faith some meals are “for here” and some are “to go.”

Sometimes we need this time to regroup and refresh. Sometimes we need to linger here, to be in the presence of others who share our faith, others who share our doubts, share our joys, share our sorrows, share our fears, share our struggles, and share our hope. Sometimes we need safety and sanctuary from the busyness of our lives and the craziness of the world. Sometimes we need to simply abide in God’s presence in this familiar and comfortable place.

But if all we ever do is come here and tell our story to ourselves, we have missed the point. Sometimes we need to be troubled. Sometimes we need to be uncomfortable. Sometimes, even though it is scary, we need to follow God into the world, even into unknown wildernesses. And in those moments, perhaps we too should eat our sacred meal in a hurry, on the go. Not because it is convenient or easy, but because it is hard, because there is an urgency to the gospel, which we often forget.

More often than not, Jesus was on the move. He was dressed for travel, with sandals on his feet and a walking stick in his hand. Perhaps, more often than not, this is our calling too.

Perhaps it’s not a non sequitur after all to gather around the joyful feast of the people of God, this smorgasbord of love and care and sacrifice, and hear this question: Would you like that for here or to go?

It’s not just what we eat, but how we eat it.

“This is how you should eat it. You should be dressed, with your sandals on your feet and your walking stick in your hand. You should eat the meal in a hurry. It is the Passover of the Lord.”

Amen.