Yesterday, Glenda and I went out to a local Lebanese
restaurant, for supper. As we looked over the menu, it occurred to
me that the traditional Lebanese dishes were designed to be shared by a
group. Four would be better than two, six better than four, eight better
than... well, you get the picture. Earlier this week, watching some
Italian cooking from David
Rocco on Food TV, I had similar thoughts about this kind of "group"
eating.
A couple of days ago, Richard Hall posted "A
Weighty Issue", his comments on the increasing obesity of Americans
and Brits. (I'll add Canadians to that pile on the scales.) As we sat in
the restaurant last night, I wondered if one of the causes for this
increasing obesity is the loss of the communal meal. Traditional
weight-loss wisdom says that you can help the process along by eating
more slowly. Your body needs time to register that you are full.
Once upon a time, a meal was an event, not just a quick fueling between
points on a schedule. Whether it was the family coming in from the field
(or home from the factory or office) at the end of the day or the
extended-family/community celebrating, the meal was a place of sharing,
fellowship, laughter, tears and love. In other words, something that
took time. Now, we drive through for hamburgers, because our next event
begins in 17 minutes or we plop ourselves down in front of the
television, plate in lap, prepared to ignore family for the vacuous
noise coming from the box.
I particularly wonder if we in the Church have not lost the art of
gathering together to "break
bread". Scattered thoughout the New Testament are references to the
early believers sharing a meal as part of their fellowship and worship.
Now, our church schedules are so full that families are giving up the
dinner table for the rush-through window at McDonald's or Wendy's, our
"coffee and fellowship" is relegated to 15 minutes before the morning
service begins and what meals we do share as a community are tightly
regimented to the greater schedule.
Maybe we need to take a leaf from the Slow
Food movement and make the meal a focus for community. Not an excess
of food for gluttony's sake, but sufficient time to get to know family,
friends and neighbours. Not a display of gastromonic superiority, but
humble sharing. Not racing out the door to the weekly
learn-to-share-your-faith class, but showing Christ by exercising the
gift of hospitality.
It's time to slow down and smell the pasta.
