The most important things about food are the companions, seated around the table. The second most important thing is the table itself, the fact of the gathering. The third most important thing would be the quality of the food consumed. We learn all of this from the First Table, the Lord’s Table, and we are called to imitate it in the rest of our lives. Food disorders — among which I include false doctrines about food — arise from getting these priorties out of order.
I have written at length about the Lord’s Table in other places, and so will not undertake to show here what I have tried to demonstrate there — suffice it to say that all our eating, with necessary adjustments made, should be following after the general pattern of eating established for us in the Table. But while I don’t want to establish all this again here, I do need to assert it again — before we sing the song concerning family meals, we need to get the pitch.
The Lord’s Table should be regular, observed whenever God’s people assemble together as summoned. We are the family of God, and part of this is demonstrated in the fact that we eat together. As I understand the Scriptures, this means weekly communion. Second, the Lord’s Table is a feast, not a fast, and is a time for rejoicing and celebration, not a time for afflicting our souls. It is eucharist, thanksgiving. Third, it should be observed with wine that has alcohol in it and bread that has gluten in it. No Christians should avoid those elements on the authority of their own choices or preferences.
There are many things that can be gleaned from this, but here are three to work with now. First, eating should be a social event. Eating alone should be an anomaly. When we eat, we should seek out companions. The word companion comes from the Latin and refers to someone with whom we break bread together. Second, eating should be a joy and a comfort, not a souless refueling. Even in times of grief, as after a funeral, eating together is not a wail of misery but a reassurance and a comfort. And apart from such particular times of grief, meals should be times of laughter, stories, communion, sharing, giving, and more laughter. And third, God gave us a meal that contains elements that really get to gnostics. Grape juice and flat crackers for communion are a fitting description of the gospel we are presenting to the world.
Christians who are concerned that their food life be healthy — and that should include all of us — should therefore concentrate on these three things. Whatever we do, Paul says, we should eat and drink to the glory of God. Eat together on a daily basis with people who love you, and whom you love. Second, make it a ritual appointment. Sanctify a place, a dining room table, say, and show up there at the appointed times. Now I can guarantee you that if these two things are in order, the food that will appear on that table, whatever it is, will be worth saying grace over. The gratitude will not be mis-spent.
“Better [is] a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith” (Prov. 15:17).
We have two variables here, which means we have four possibilities. We can get from this passage the main point, and then, for our purposes, a secondary point. The main point is that our two mentioned options are a scarce meal with love and an abundant meal with hatred. The two not mentioned are a scarce meal with hatred and an abundant meal with love. The proverb sets our priorities for us. If we love one another, we can overlook the fact that we are having to eat like vegans. And if we hate each other, there is not a French chef in the world who can make a sauce that will cover up that acrid taste. Having set our priorties this way, we see that love is the crucial thing to have at the table, and that hatred is the enemy to be forever banished. Now the proverb also presupposed a sliding scale on the matter of lesser importance, on the question of what we eat — a meal of herbs on the down side to the meat of a stalled ox on the swank side. We should rather have the most important thing, love, even if it means taking the downgrade meal on the scale of less important things.
We have been blessed with great abundance, and we should rejoice in that abundance. We should be generous and ready to share, but we should not feel guilty about the abundance that God has given. To feel guilty is actually to be guilty of another sin, that of ingratitude. This means that we have the privilege of grilling the meat from the stalled ox, and sitting down with people we love.
The other option not mentioned is instructive as well. Food cranks are judgmental, harsh, unforgiving, strident, and severe. If you invite them over they feel free to sit in judgment (vocally) on whatever is being served, and on the content of all your cupboards for that matter. They show up for dinner at your house with their own food, not because they are being generous with it, but because whatever you were going to serve them has cooties in it. In short, you find yourself eating a meal of herbs alongside someone who has a hyper-critical eye. The vocalized criticism of the menu is not thought by them to be rudeness because they have assumed a spiritual position. They have taken a moral stand, and hence every conceivable rudeness is therefore justified. You have found yourself, my friend, in the worst of both worlds.
In summary, in descending order of preference:
1. Fillet mignon and a table of joy. Sing for gladness.
2. Turnip greens and a table of joy. Sing for gladness.
3. Fillet mignon and hateful piercing stares. Ick.
4. Turnip greens and fierce denunciations of any who stray from the turnip green way, even in their hearts for a moment. Get me out of here.
I mentioned earlier that there was a secondary point to be made, and here it is. The stalled ox is mentioned as a luxury item, which it was, but there is no hint of disapproval for the practice of confining an ox to the stall. If it were a sin to eat such meat that was raised with tenderness-on-the-plate in view, then this would be an odd illustration. We see the same thing in the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15 — what does the father famously order the servants to butcher? The fatted calf, and not a calf who was unfortunately and quite accidentally on the portly side. One lexicon defines the word fatted from Luke as meaning to “feed with wheat, to fatten.” As we work through this, we have to be careful not to let sentimentalism dictate our standards to us.