Humanity by Humanity

food [ food ] noun

HUMANITY INTERACTIONS & LIVING

FALL 2017

HUMANITY INTE RACTIONS & LIVING

ISSUE NO. 3

FA L L 2 0 1 7

Thanks for your words & stories & sharing your lives

As a people we are often quick to speak and slow to listen. We live teleological lives and we let few things slow us down. Let us vow to be for people and their stories. To be quick to listen and slow to speak. To rejoice in expression. To look not just with our eyes and hear not just with our ears. Let us take an active role in an on-going narrative of the human experience.

Andrea Lucado, Adriana Arthur, Ethan Renoe, Helga Sierra, Michael Dyer, Noa Fodrie, Chelsea Smith, Erica Griffith, Cody Smith, Adrianna Carter, Emily Stoffel, Kaitlyn Best, Grammy, Andrew Harmon, Cierra Klatt, Kelsey Miller, Ana Batres, Daniel Anderson- Good Spread, Ellie Teeter- Gathering, Mimi Zakem- CCFI, Bailey Shannon- Mobile Garden Center

TABLE OF CONTENTS

So, here’s to you.

Kailey Sullivan

TOG ETH ERN ES S

PAT H TOWA R D S FA I T H Andrea Lucado

GOODSPREAD Daniel Anderson

HANNAH’S BEDROOM Adriana Arthur

G AT H E R I N G E l l i e Te e t e r

CO M E & E AT Ethan Renoe

MOBILE GARDEN Bailey Shannon

OVER TIME Erica Griffith

GROWING ORGANIC LESSONS IN ENTREPRENEURSHIP Mimi Zakem

P O C K E T-S I Z E L I S T Noa Fodrie

Iss. No. 3 is dedicated to tables. You are strong and make room and the real mvp when it comes to meals.

ONLINE: issuu.com/humanitymag/docs/food

TRAD I TI ON 27 NIGHTS Cody Smith HANNAH’S BEDROOM Adriana Arthur RECIPES Emily M. & Kaitlyn B. AREN’T THEY GRAND Michael D. & Ana B. MEMORIES Humans

FOOD +

C H A N GE

G OOD NE S S A CONCISE PHILOSOPHICAL T R E AT I S E o n GOOD FOOD Cierra Klatt FOOD, SHAME, & T H E I R CO M P L I C AT E D R E L AT I O N S H I P Kelsey Miller KNEADING Andrew Harmon FOOD & THEOLOGY Chelsea Smith

slow to listen quick to speak

food [ food ] noun

We need it. We love it. We buy it. We grow it. It sustains. It nourishes. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s beautiful. It brings us together. Food is essential to our existence, in more ways than one.

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TOGETHERNESS Food is essential to our existence. How does food speak to this better understanding of each other as humans and what does it mean to our lives? We all have stories of how food has brought us around tables and started conversation. We have laughed and cried and enjoyed each other. We have learned a thing or two about ourselves and gained some insight inbetween bits. Eating together has created fond memories and stories that youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll never forget. Here are just a few...

FOOD + togetherness

HUMANITY

PATH TOWARDS FAITH

by Andrea Lucado, from her book English Lessons: Crooked Path towards Faith

n December 2006,

I jumped into the River Cherwell, a river in Oxford, England, that crosses University Parks on the north side of town. It was the end of our study abroad semester and a few friends and I had the wild idea to jump off a low bridge into the water on one of our last days of class. We were twenty years old and had survived a semester overseas away from our families and friends and everything familiar. We would honor the experience, cement it into our souls by plunging into the coldest water I have ever felt. A group of our classmates had

FOOD + togetherness

come with us to watch, skeptical we would follow through. When we did, they helped pull us out of the water and over the grassy edge. Shivering, we smiled proudly for the cameras. About two years later I found myself back in Oxford, this time to do a masterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s in English at a school called Oxford-Brookes University. I also found myself back along the river, this time at a pub that sat on the River Thames. I was eating lunch with a group of

English friends I knew from church. Well, they weren’t so much my friends as they were acquaintances who I hoped would turn into friends. I had been living in Oxford for only a few weeks and friends were something I needed desperately. This lunch, I thought, would solidify my place here. That’s not exactly what happened. Although I sat near them, I felt far from my lunch companions that day. First, there was the matter of my appearance. I wore clothes purchased from stores no one shopped in here. I had meticulously straightened my hair, which, I would learn, was not exactly the fashion for English girls. Besides how I looked in comparison to the others, I also struggled with the conversation. Their accents muddled things, but so did words and phrases that were familiar to me yet had new definitions in this country. Words like fancy and pudding and pavement.

Friends were not going to come to me. Acceptance was not going to arrive on my doorstep. After a while when I finally woke up and realized I had made fifty acquaintances in Oxford and zero friends, I knew it was time to do something. A layer of safety and comfort needed to be shed. I needed to channel the girl who had jumped into the River Cherwell. So in a moment of courage, or desperation, I invited people from class over for dinner. I didn’t know them well. We had had the occasional postclass chats and a couple of coffees together, but we had not been to each other’s homes. I invited Sophie and her boyfriend, who were from South Africa. I invited Ben, who was from England, and I invited Mac, who was from Philadelphia, the only other American in our class.

“I HAD MADE FIFTY ACQUAINTANCES IN OXFORD AND ZERO FRIENDS, I KNEW IT WAS TIME TO DO SOMETHING.”

I thought life in England would be a simple transition from home. I had been there before, and, most importantly, I spoke the language. Or so I thought. In reality, no matter how similar a language seems on the page or sounds to the ear, what we actually speak is a language informed by our surroundings and upbringings. We speak our food, our weather, our societal habits and quirks. We speak what we were taught by our parents, political leaders, friends, pop-star idols, and grocery-store clerks. That’s what I spoke in Oxford, and it wasn’t translating well. As the others talked, I looked at the brown water of the Thames. I didn’t know where that brave girl was from two years before who had jumped off a bridge in her swimsuit, breaking the cold surface of the river below. This time by the river felt different. I sat with strangers who were English and to whom the river was regular life. They didn’t need to jump into it to feel some sort of rush. I sat in this loneliness in Oxford for a little while. I wandered the streets alone, hoping to find companionship with the city itself. I explored back alleyways and sat in cafes and coffee shops with my books. I studied in the school’s ancient library. I ran my hand along the city’s old, strong walls. Soon though, I knew that exploring Oxford on my own was not going to be enough to cure my loneliness. “We are born helpless,” wrote C. S. Lewis. “As soon as we are fully conscious we discover loneliness. We need others physically, emotionally, intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves.”

In my little Oxford kitchen, I had exactly five plates, five cups, five forks and five knives. I didn’t have much cooking ware, so Sophie brought a large pot and wooden spoon and ladle. She taught me how to cook curry, something I had only tried but never made myself. She chopped chicken and vegetables and showed me what curry powder she liked to use. We ate in my living room with plates on our laps and talked and laughed for a long time. Mac brought chestnuts he had purchased from a street vendor, and we toasted them in a sauté pan to have for dessert, while Ben unwrapped Cadbury chocolate bars to break off and share. The chocolate melted slightly from the heat of the chestnuts. Curry, chestnuts, chocolate. It was an odd meal, but in the middle of it, I started to feel like myself again. I felt all wrapped up in the smoky aroma of the chestnuts. I felt like I might survive this country after all, and that the people who appeared to be nothing like me were actually a lot like me, and I was a lot like them. ** If you look at a map of Oxford, you will see that the River Cherwell eventually meets the River Thames. They come together and form one beautiful, long stream. This doesn’t surprise me at all.

HUMANITY

HA N N A H â&#x20AC;&#x2122; S B E D R O O M Dedicated to the nights spent eating meals together on the floor of a dear friend bedroom in South Africa missing home but being able to enjoy the presence of community, love of new friends, and food; also a poem about how much I miss these people and these meals

by Adriana Arthur

Like bread, we were broken offFrom a familiar loaf From sourdough and dinner rolls we were assembled on a similar platein a new place, in Hannah’s bedroom. And in this new circle we were invited to savor food for our souls Communing in conversation A dialog – a languagechewing on the last piece of every sentence Invitation to my senses Because we sense thatThis might be our last time, But In the next bite I’ll findthe decadence of your love And the work of your hand is the kneading of the dough And I just want more Enough to last us the rest of the night On the floor of your roomeating the leftovers of food Oh there’s more room! For one more person to sit around our circle And oh I am hopeful That tonight will not be the end Of my love for you my friend. I will always share a room with you. There will always be room for you. We will always find each other- in the kitchen, Or maybe the table Or even if it’s the floor of your bedroomwhere you prepared the meal of our last communion My heart for you growing like our stomachs do with food, Just know I will always share this room with you There will always be room for youIn my stomach and in my heart. This meal I’ll prepare for you. Kneading dough, Needing you.

HUMANITY

by Ethan Renoe

COME & EAT M

aybe you’ve noticed it too.

Once I began to think about the amount of intense importance given to food all throughout the Bible, I realized that it’s everywhere. In fact, you could even say that much of the Bible revolves around food. Any Sunday Schooler will be able to tell you what the ﬁrst sin ever was: Eating. The wrong thing at the wrong time from the wrong tree. Eating is what led to 9/11, Columbine, and more recently, Charlotesville. Eating introduced the human race to the sin which permeates every platelet in our bloodstream. But it doesn’t end there. In the agrarian culture in which the ancient Israelites lived, eating was a central tenet of life. Therefore, many of Moses’ laws revolved around what to eat, what not to eat, when, how, where and why to eat. Don’t eat bacon, but do eat unleavened bread during Passover. Eat this bull in the presence of a priest, but don’t eat clams. A friend pointed out that the Bible is divine comedy: Eating is what doomed mankind to death, but it’s also the means by which we are saved. First the serpent invited Eve to ‘come and eat,’ then it is the phrase Jesus extended to the sinners, prostitutes and tax collectors, and now to us.

FOOD + togetherness

Come and eat…me. Do this in remembrance of me. Eat. Eat and remember me. And if you’re at all familiar with Christian eschatology, you also know how the Bible ends: With a feast. I think God loves to eat. It’s not an accident food is so wonderful, especially when eaten with family and friends in community and fellowship. But I want to zoom in on the first century culture into which Jesus entered and began shuffling things around. An early church historian wrote that Jews did not take food from the same table as Gentiles (Non-Jews) “because they live impurely.” There were all-male tables; tables for rich people and others for the poor, and so on. Because in the first century, who you ate with mattered.

“ A N D

I T

E X T E N D S

T H E

A D D I C T S ,

E V E N T H E

T O

P E O P L E

L I K E

P E R F E C T I O N I S T S

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W O R K A H O L I C S .

” It was unlike our culture today in which one may waltz into a Chipotle and grab an open window seat one stool away from a stranger. In the ﬁrst century, when it came to eating, everything was planned out and executed intentionally. In other words, no Jewish man—especially a rabbi—would grab a table at McHerod’s and risk sitting near a Gentile for supper. So when Jesus shows up, it’s absolutely jarring for Him to constantly be seen at the table with ‘sinners.’ The cool thing is, this isn’t just an isolated event that He did once to make a statement. We get the impression that Jesus made a habit of chilling with the societal outcasts. He likely even called many of them His friends.

Let’s break down the three categories of people typically listed as eating with Jesus: Sinners: Not much description of these people. Just imagine that you were part of a group of friends and the best way people thought to describe you was just as ‘sinners.’ Obviously not the top of their classes or the social elite. Just a group of nogood lowlives. Prostitutes: Oh, you know… Tax collectors: This group is interesting. These people were possibly the most hated group of people in the Jewish community at the time. They were Jewish men who worked for the Roman government collecting taxes from other Jews. However, they usually took extra cash just to ﬁll their pockets and get rich from their own people.

Think World War 2 Jews collecting taxes from fellow Jews, working for the Nazis and also getting rich. And these are the very people Jesus chose to dine with. Repeatedly. Even more fascinating, we don’t get the impression that Jesus was a chaperone or ‘missionary’ type as He hung out with these people. Luke 7 implies that Jesus was often mistaken for a drunk and a glutton: He ate a lot and drank a lot. He wasn’t a bore to be around. Often the mental image we have of Jesus is a very tidy, clean and frankly, boring man who came and implored us all to be better people. The image painted by the Bible could not be more different. After all, there must have been a reason these notorious sinners kept coming back to eat with Jesus (Hint: It wasn’t because he just called them hoodlums and told them to shape up…who would want to keep eating with someone like that?). He didn’t wait for them to improve their lives or crawl out of their addictions before he sat and broke bread with them; Jesus moved into their space, where they were, and demonstrated to the world that they had value. That they were worth eating with. So I ask myself: When was the last time I sat with a prostitute or inmate and ate a meal? When was the last time I exited my comfort zone to show someone I care about them, despite what society says? In high school, it was the lonely nerds isolated in the cafeteria. Who is it for you now? Perhaps you’re the one who feels like the outcast. Maybe you’re the one who feels too dirty, unclean, and sinful to be wanted by the Lord. Let this be a reminder that especially to

those of us who feel disgusting in the eyes of God that Jesus looks at each of us and says, “Come, eat with me.” He was willing to sacriﬁce His reputation in the eyes of the religious leaders to show love to the lowest of society. And He does the same to each of us. I love the nickname often given to God: The Hound of Heaven. Because like a dog on the prowl, He is seeking out and chasing after the lowest, the farthest, and most overlooked members of the world. He is chasing after us with a bloodthirst the way a pup chases a fallen goose. The most shocking turn of events though, is the table to which we are invited. We are not invited to eat wheat bread and grape juice, but the very body and blood of God Himself. This is my body, broken for you; my blood poured out for the forgiveness of sins… We do this symbolically in church today, as we anticipate the coming feast to end all feasts. And we’re all invited. This invitation is not limited to those who follow a certain code or restrain from partying too hard. This invitation is for the sinners, the broken down and the unworthy, and it extends even to people like us, the addicts, the perfectionists and workaholics. You may not have grown up in a family that sits down for evening dinner, and the feeling of invitation and nearness may be foreign to you. Fortunately, the family of God is enormous and welcoming. The food won’t leave you wanting, nor will the drink leave you thirsty. So will you come to the table? Come and eat.

HUMANITY

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OVER TIME by Erica Griffith

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HUMANITY

1 BRUNCH Always go to brunch

early, no matter how late you went to bed. They will run out of whipped cream for waffles and breakfast potatoes and you will be absolutely, without a doubt, heartbroken.

2 YES Always say yes to

ice cream cones. They truly nourish the soul.

3 TIME Take up every chance

to sit in the dining hall until it closes. Yeah, you’ll eat too much, but do it “for the mems”. The same rule goes for your own kitchen table. Let your place for eating become a place known for community. Your heart will shift as you find yourself looking to spend genuine, honest time with others as you share leftovers.

4 PIZZA Order that 2 AM

pizza. It is worth all the greasiness for that extra three hours with loved ones as you catch up on the nitty gritty details of life.

5 DINNER? Make a pal that you can

text “dinner?” to and they say “yeah 6:30”. Quality conversations (and at times, much needed silence) happen best over tables.

6 SMILE Always greet Jimmy

John’s delivery with a smile. They will SAVE YOU when it’s late/ you’re hungry/ you’re lazy/ you’re half-crying over that twenty page paper.

10 HAPPY

7 EAT

ALONE? Take every opportunity to eat a meal with a group of your favorite humans. There will come a time when you no longer can without a plane ticket. Soak in their presence and the peace that floods you. Honestly, just go ahead and make this a life rule. Life’s too short to always eat alone.

8 EAT

ALONE! It is okay to eat alone. You are a high quality person and you deserve peace and quiet and people watching time.

9 CAPTURE Sneak pictures of your

dinners with friends. It’s wild what conversations you’ll remember three years later while flipping though old albums.

Spend time with those you love often. There’s something special that happens when you bond over food (and coffee). Those you can eat with comfortable and happily are the people that love you best, know you best, and make you feel most at home. These are the times you’ll reflect on and be grateful you experienced. Moments you can’t repeat.

HUMANITY

+TR

food +

TRADITION Food is essential to our existence. How does food speak to this better understanding of each other as humans and what does it mean to our lives? Food is built around tradition. Recipes passed down, specific celebrations, ways of doing things. How does food become part of our identity? We learn traditions from those before us and carry on ones with those after us. We create our own traditions as we navigate life and how we relate to it. There are many traditions, new and old. Here are just a few...

FOOD + tradition

HUMANITY

+TR

by Cody Smith

27 NIGHTS

wake up around 6am. Sometimes earlier. Make bed, shower, pick clothes, put on clothes, take allergy medication, choose breakfast, make breakfast, eat, brush teeth, grab keys-wallet-phone, leave. It is a routine. It is routine. A fixed program. Habitual. And while it is familiar, it is not significant. It’s not substantive or noteworthy. Not worthy-of-noting. There is no special intention. It’s rote and robotic. It is not tradition. A little over 2 years ago, 4 friends and I started a cooking club. We chose Ina Garten’s Make It Ahead as an introductory point for our varying skill levels and varying commitment-to-learning-to-cook levels. Rotating roles were assigned: cocktail, appetizer, side, entrée, dessert. Everyone had a job and a clear end goal. Each had a recipe and the step-by-step formula to ensure success. We took to our jobs like enthusiastic robots. In eager anticipation, we sat down for our first meal. And it sucked.

Everyone arrived safely, on time, hungry, happy. Food prep was delightfully messy, lively, entertaining. All were in good spirits about the meal and eager to kick off the experiment - an adventure by talented and intelligent individuals. And here’s where it all goes bad. No matter how skilled, or smart, we failed at one enormously small detail- ﬁt. The menu: Greek Mojito, Zucchini Basil Soup, Summer Vegetable Couscous, Lemon Shrimp, and Tri-Berry Crumble.

It may not be as obvious, absent taste bud feedback (it certainly wasn’t to us), but this makes for one particularly disgusting concoction. All of these selections came from the same place, the same cook book. Yet they don’t go on the same plate. The fundamental mistake here was trying to make something out of making something. In the excitement of choosing pleasing, atypical dishes, we lost sight of the reasons we wanted to get together in the first place. Our mutual love for community, art of food prep, and sharing memories with friends and family around the table- the traditions we wanted to flow into this group. Unfortunately, these things, were, if you will, placed on the backburner. Before we’d even begun, we let it be about the action we each took, and not the purpose of doing it together. The purpose of tradition. We recently had our 27th monthly meal. And good on us, the meals have continued to improve in quality and cooperation. But more importantly, the traditions have won out. The new traditions are creating a bond stronger than vanilla ice cream and soy sauce (one of the unusual combinations we’ve discovered). Starting with a mistake gave us a common place to grow from, to build on, to remember and laugh about every time we get together- our first tradition. Each meeting, we try once again to improve on that first meal, which humbly reminds us of the value we create together. It keeps us from being routine, habitual. Not worthy-of-noting. And instead, makes our experience worth sharing with others around the table.

REMINDS US OF THE VALUE WE CREATE TOGETHER.

FOOD + tradition

NIGHTS

HUMANITY

DIRECTIONS:

INGREDIENTS:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees 2. With an electric mixer, blend cake mix, pudding, and eggs 3. Pour into greased 9x13 pan 4. Sprinkle with sugar and chocolate chips 5. Bake for 35 minutes

1 egg 3c buttermilk 1 tsp vanilla 3 T oil 1 1/4 tsp baking soda 1 tsp salt 3 T sugar 2 1/2 c flour

1. Beat eggs 2. Add buttermilk to eggs with vanilla and oil 3. Combine dry ingredients in seperate bowl 4. Add egg mixture to dry ingredients until combined 5. Preheat griddle while batter rest for 15 minutes 6. Use 3T batter for each pancake

B E S T

DIRECTIONS:

K A I T LY N

INGREDIENTS:

My family loves to laugh. My family loves to eat. Food is a huge part of family dynamics. From Sunday evening pizza night to birthday celebrations, food can bring us together at any time. One aspect of a meal that is essential for my family is a scrumptious dessert. My personal favorite is the "best ever chocolate cake". It is our bonding dessert. It is the food brought out when it was time to chat. We would have it while camping with special friends, it would get taken to pitch-ins, and it would be served for special occasions. I am a firm believer in making time for family and talking about each other's lives over a dessert is a great opportunity. Make this cake and enjoy those around you.

B U T T E R M I L K PA N C A KE S

M Y FA M I LY L O V E S T O TA L K

CHOCOL ATE CAKE

1 box chocolate cake mix 1 can of Thank You brand chocolate pudding (15 oz) 2 eggs 1/4 cup of sugar 1 cup chocolate chips

S T O F F E L

THE TABLE

E M I LY

r e c i p e FROM

+TR

BREAKFAST FOR DINNER I was raised on pancakes for Brinner. Ironically, my mom never made them for actual breakfast.. My mom would get her big electric griddle out and make 8 at a time. We always did blueberry and chocolate chip and sometimes I’d be the flipper (it’s all in the wrist) and we always had maple syrup with them because I was raised on the real stuff, no Mrs. Butterworth’s or Aunt Jemima’s here. It’s always been a favorite of mine and as I’ve gotten further from home, I’ve come to realize how much I view those pancakes as not only one of my favorite comfort foods but also a major symbol of childhood family dinners.

HUMANITY

+TR

Tamales

by Ana Batres

grew up helping my grandma cover dough on cornhusk for tamales. I would watch my grandma prepare different meats and chili sauces for the fillings. After making sure the dough had enough salt, Armour lard, and chicken broth she would hand me a silver spoon, so I could start covering each cornhusk. Then I would hand it over to my mom or sister who would spoon in the fillings. My grandma was in charge of arranging the tamales inside of the pot and making sure we each were doing our jobs right. She would tell me how important it was to make sure the dough sticks to the husk. She believes it is an important key to the creation of a good batch of tamales. My grandma has a superstition when cooking tamales. She thinks if you leave the kitchen while the tamales are cooking in the oven then they won’t turn out correctly. What I always enjoyed most about the process of making tamales was being able to spend time with my grandma and hearing her say a little prayer before leaving the tamales to cook. My grandma hoped her extra blessing would result in a good batch. Last year I decided to make tamales. It was my first time attempting to make them without the help of my grandma or mom. Before purchasing the ingredients I called my grandma to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. I spent over six hours prepping the dough, making fillings, and letting the tamales cook. Just like my grandma I rallied friends and my roommate to help me cover the cornhusk with dough. I was able to fill up a medium sized pot with tamales. I stayed in the kitchen until they were done cooking. The tamales turned out looking just like my grandma’s, but the flavor didn’t turn out quite like hers. At first I felt disappointed they didn’t turn out perfectly like my grandma’s tamales, but my friends were excited to add a piece of home to their plates filled with mac and cheese and mashed potatoes. I realized then what mattered wasn’t perfectly replicating my grandma’s recipe. What really mattered was I attempted to create one of the most time-consuming traditional Mexican dishes I grew up with. Living far from home and in a community that lacks authentic Mexican dishes has pushed me to cook more. I force myself to learn how to cook my favorite Mexican dishes not just to sustain myself, but also to keep traditional dishes alive.

FOOD + tradition

Growing up I admired how much dedication my grandma put into cooking. She spends the majority of her day in the kitchen cooking, prepping, or cleaning up meal after meal. Even if she ends up cooking a pot of caldo de pollo (chicken soup), the meals my grandma prepares us ﬁlls our stomachs and her presence creates a warm and open place where we can talk or laugh for hours. I hope my tamales and other traditional Mexican dishes I continue to cook and perfect will help me create space where my friends and family can feel at home.

Grandmother’s Song by Michael Dyer I’ve never heard my grandmother sing If I’m honest I’m not sure if she plays any instruments And I don’t know if she paints, writes poetry, or dreams in color. But what I do know, Is stitched throughout the fabric of the bread she bakesThere is a song. When I was a child I used to sit and listen to her sing this song; Faithfully kneading out the imperfections in the dough. This song of hers seems to have far more rest notes than before. There will come a day, When the quiet humming of her hands at work will cease, When the dough rising on the counter isn’t there. There will come a day when this song of hers must end. But when that day comes, I will simply remember: Being seven, Sitting in her kitchen, Smelling sourdough baking, Waiting for her symphony to finish, And her teaching me how to spell “diagnosis”. I will remember my grandmother’s song. With all of its silent love and patience, I will remember my grandmother’s song.

FISHERMen UNITED

by Kailey Sullivan

y grandpa used to take me fishing at 5:30 am. On the way there we would stop at this specific sketchy gas station and get hot chocolate (or coffee for him) and chocolate wafers in this gold package that made them seem like they came from Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory but in reality were probably $0.50. Fishing was my grandpa’s thing. I think he even was president of a Fishermen United Club (probably had a different name, but close enough). The only time I would touch the fish, was for the photo he would take on his disposable camera that he kept in his truck. Nevertheless, I just loved being there, with him, apart of this craft he had mastered hoping one day I could be president of the fisherman club. Later that night we would coat and cook the fish and to this day is my favorite meal. I would stand next to him volunteering to do any job he would let me- coating the fish, placing them in the pan, turning them, anything. I caught those, with him and now it was our family meal. I’ll never forget the time I spent around the table at that house.

HUMANITY

My grandparents were babysitting my sister and I once and they waited awhile to make dinner for us, so we were kind of tired. My sister insisted on having mashed potatoes fell asleep in her mashed potatoes.

The ďŹ rst nightmare I ever had I was being chased by a hot dog. FOOD +

The ďŹ rst time I stayed the night at my brotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s place in broadripple, he baked homemade bread, tossed a salad, and cooked spaghetti for us. He was out of wine, so he had me use his ID (which I had long hair and perfectly matched his pic) to go to the store and buy wine while being underage. Best dinner with my brother.

I'll always remember when my kneaded the dough, she gave

Battling over who got the beaters from the cookie batter.

Every Sunday night growing up, my family ate huge bowls of popcorn for dinner, with apples and peanut butter. Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d rotate who picked the movie each week.

by Contributing Humans

Most Sundays we had relatives at our dining room table and those are wonderful memories. They were always fun and sometimes my dad would say something so funny that both my older sisters would be laughing so hard they had to run to the bathroom.

grandma showed me how to make bread. As she me the advice to "show the bread who's boss"

I used to eat ice cream on saturday morning before my parents would wake up.

25 HUMANITY

food +

CHANGE Food is essential to our existence. How does food speak to this better understanding of each other as humans and what does it mean to our lives? Just in America, 1 in 6 people face hunger. Other than physical needs, food can cross boundaries, help us restore out humaness, empower us. There are many ways that food aids to change a relationship, a life, or show you care. Here are just a few...

FOOD + change

HUMANITY

We believe that peanut butter can save lives. S

ounds crazy, right? Well, we’ve seen it happen. Let us explain. Half of the world we live in is malnourished, the other other half is overnourished. Nutrition is the foundation for the human experience. Our fondest memories typically take place around a table. It’s where we remember, where we look forward, and it affects every aspect of our development. After all, you can’t learn, work or play if your body is deficient of the nutrients it needs. Unfortunately, the most severe form of malnutrition isn’t only crippling, it’s fatal. Severe Acute Malnutrition (SAM) is the leading cause of death in children worldwide. Each year, it kills more children than AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria… combined. Even when children make it through Severe Acute Malnutrition, they experience stunted growth, weak immune systems and underdeveloped brains. After the critical first few years of a child’s development, the effects of malnutrition are irreversible. It’s a small window to treat this disease, but there’s good news to be heard. There’s a cure - peanut butter! There is a lifesaving medicine called MANA (Mother Administered Nutritive Aid) that has been developed by UNICEF and Doctors Without Borders to treat Severe Acute Malnutrition. MANA is a Ready-to-Use Therapeutic Food, a sort of super food that has three simple ingredients - milk, multivitamins and peanut butter! With just a few weeks of treatment, over 94% of children completely recover from that fatal stage of malnutrition. Even better, the medicine was designed to be administered by the mother of the child, so no long hikes to a local clinic or hospital. This is an empowering tool put in the hands of the person that wants to save the child the most - their mom.

FOOD + change

That’s how peanut butter can save lives, but that’s not the end of the story. There is an extreme shortage of MANA RUTF in the developing world. That’s why Good Spread was born, to activate peanut butter lovers around the world to take collective action and address this need. For every jar you buy, you send a packet of MANA to a malnourished child. Good Spread’s mission extends beyond just the malnutrition issue though, we’re trying to address true nourishment by offering all organic peanut butters with nongmo, sustainably sourced ingredients. This means practices like regenerative agriculture and family run farms to make sure that we’re spreading good at every level. When you eat Good Spread, it doesn’t only taste good, it spreads good. Furthermore, we’re connecting our customers directly to their impact. On the lid of each jar, there is a tracking code to text that will send you a note with the exact location around the world where your lifesaving MANA packet is headed. To date, our community has sent over 123,500 packets of MANA to children in Chad, Nicaragua, Uganda and more. We’ve seen how peanut butter can save lives, and want to keep growing so we can reach more children with this essential treatment. This is how good spreads, and it can only work with people who join this fight and put a collective dent in the malnutrition issue. Good Spread is now available at Whole Foods, Kroger, Amazon and at helpgoodspread.com.

To learn more, visit helpgoodspread.com. Daniel Anderson Community Engagement Director Good Spread I Boulder, Colorado

Our community has sent over 123,500 packets of MANA to children in Chad, Nicaragua, Uganda and more. 29

HUMANITY

by Ellie Teeter

G a t h e r i n g T

here is something special and sacred about sharing a meal. It is coming together on the common need for nourishment. Food can be a language when you may not know what to say, but you want to show you care. It is a language my friend Erin and I have learned to speak every Wednesday. Every week for the past three years, Erin and I make and share a meal with the women working in the strip clubs in Nashville. We prepare a main course, side, and dessert, and set it out upstairs in the club’s dressing room. We call it Gathering (we are not an organization, but found we needed to call it something for conversation’s sake). “Gathering” beautifully captures what we dreamed this would be: coming together from our different walks of life, circumstances, backgrounds, and sharing a meal. The funds to make this happen are mysteriously and beautifully covered. I get phone calls from friends at the most random times, saying I was on their mind and they felt called to give. Last week I sat across from a friend and he said he had been saving his tips for the last three years, God told him to give all of it to me for this, and across the table handed me a pile of cash. Just yesterday I opened a care package from my mom and found a check for $100 from a family friend to go towards Gathering. We have not had to ask for funds once. There was a season where the money came, just enough for each week. Now we see God provide in abundance, and have a small fund that has meals covered for the next 2 months. I have seen God prove himself to be faithful. He always shows up, He is never too late, and He shows up in the most unexpected ways.

Food has been the starting point, and from it want the women working amazing relationships have We to know they are loved and seen, they are supported and been born. valued, and that we care. In an environment where they are looked at

for what they can offer, we want to serve them, showing them that just being is enough. Food has been the starting point, and from it amazing relationships have been born. These women are our friends. We get coffee and ask about their kids, go on sunrise hikes, meet halfway for dinner on their days off, and go to flea markets. Every stereotype and preconceived notion shatters when you know names and hear stories. I think this goes for all people in all situations, not just the men and women in the strip clubs. In a world that is quick to point out differences, when it is hard to know what to say, food has the power to connect us. Food really matters. We know we are called to love, and that is what we, through the sharing of a meal, hope to do.

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L O V E D

Food has been the starting point, and from it amazing relationships have been born.

THE

MOBILE GARDEN

CENTER

The moblie Garden Center is used for education, creativity, and neighborhood engagement on the Near Eastside of Indianapolis, while shedding light on the broader issue of food security that the residents living on the Near Eastside face every day. To find out more about this project please visit https://themobilegarden.wordpress.com/

Rain Barrel Wash Station Garden Trailer Rain Barrel Wagon Herb Garden Garden Trailer

Hoop House Wagon Herb Garden

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Rain Barrel Wash Station Garden Trailer

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Mobile Garden Center Compost Cart

Rain Barrel

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Compost Ca Hoop House Wagon Herb Garden

Rain Barrel Wash Station

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Mobile Garden Center Hoop House

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A N

A P P L E A D AY

Growing Organic Lessons in Entrepreneurship by Mimi Zakem

here are about a million and one things I’ve learned over the last two years working on the Community Controlled Food Initiative (CCFI) at the Kheprw Institute. In this piece I will focus on social entrepreneurship. Some of the basic things I’ve learned include the importance of partnerships, the need to spend time thinking daily about strategies to move an enterprise forward, and to, as you work, always be thinking about who else other than yourself can do various pieces of the work, and then move to train and develop others, building their skills and allowing for more focus on the big picture. For context, In August 2015, a group of folks came together at the Kheprw Institute to discuss the recent closings of the Double 8 grocery stores - the last source of fresh produce in this neighborhood - and what we could do about it. Several of us decided to continue to meet every two weeks, which turned into every week, to build our own program to bring good healthy food into the community. Paulette Fair, Tysha Ahmad, and Imhotep Adisa were some of the original crew that brought a lot of experience, wisdom, and diligence to the table. Fresh out of school and new to the city but filled with passion and ready to contribute, I cautiously agreed to take notes and facilitate meetings, not wanting to over commit myself in a new town of unknown possibilities. We began by having each of us share our vision for what we wanted to build. This was important as it established a collective foundation for acting and working together. And after gaining this understanding, the pace picked up. We found and explored a model from Louisville called Fresh Stops. We went down to meet their organizers and had them come up to Indy and asked many questions. Their system of purchasing local food directly from farmers as a community and bringing it to town for distribution, celebration, and community building resonated with us. By December 2015, the project had accelerated. The CCFI team was reaching out to local farmers in the city and from the state and applying to accept SNAP/EBT benefits. We were working with KI NuMedia to build our website and market the programing, as well as hosting our first monthly Good Food Feast - a healthy cooking demonstration, community potluck, and space for celebrating and

FOOD + change

Diop Adisa is representing Indianapolis at the EMPOWERED to Serve Awards Dinner hosted by the American Heart Association on October 10., www.entreslamevents.com

organizing around good food. At this point, I was heavily involved in building and executing the program. We like to joke that I was “duped” into becoming a CCFI leader. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I definitely knew it was a beautiful and special thing. By July 2016, CCFI had our first collective food purchase and distribution with 36 community members investing in a food share bag. By January 2017, we were still going strong, having connected with local farmers who were able to supply us with fresh produce through the winter. On June 10th, 2017, we threw a Good Food Festival to mark our first year anniversary! In the first year of organizing our monthly collective food purchases from local farmers to our community, we brought in over 6,000 lbs of food, served over 75 individuals and families, and built and strengthened countless relationships. Most importantly, we built a program from the ground up that demonstrates community agency, and we did this through harnessing the resources that already exist in our community. We turned a crisis into an opportunity to build community and design our own solutions that meet our needs and create the reality we wish to inhabit.This journey has blessed me with a wealth of new information, meaningful work, and community bonds. Here are three pieces that seem especially critical when thinking about social entrepreneurship:

pieces that seem especially critical when thinking about social entrepreneurship:

MENTORSHIP I believe it is essential to have guidance from others who have more experience than you. Mentorship can also be received from folks who bring other value to your work, like imaginative and creative young people and people with different thought processes and patterns. Whoever your mentors are, find someone whose opinions you truly respect and value that can consistently help guide you in navigating the challenging world of social entrepreneurship.

START WITH OPPORTUNITIES, NOT BARRIERS As I became more immersed in this work and thought through ideas, Imhotep, one of my mentors, would stop me mid-sentence and say “No, no. I don’t want to hear about those barriers and all the things that could potentially get in the way. Don’t start there. What is the opportunity here? What is the potential?” He helped me see something I didn’t know about myself, something I started to recognize not only in my thinking, but also in many other people and the culture I live in. Someone proposes an idea, and you begin by “trouble-shooting” with a brainstorm of all the roadblocks there might be. This can be a fatal mistake, leading to missed opportunities and actually the creation of issues that don’t exist and self-fulfilling prophecies of failure. An effective entrepreneur will start with the question: What is the opportunity? Envision it. Play it out in your mind to an ideal outcome or goal. Later you can come back and navigate the barriers - they will come up, but you will overcome them more successfully when you start with a clear vision of the opportunity.

BALANCING SOCIAL MISSION with E N T E R P R I S E S U S T A I N A B I L I T Y All of your good intentions and work will not be served if you do not also consider economic sustainability. This doesn’t mean you need to be stacking money piles. Economy can take the form of many mediums - dollars is one, but also relationships, information, and many other elements can truly sustain a project or organization. You truly need folks with business/entrepreneurial knowledge and experience to run a social enterprise that will last. Many of us would love to give away all of this food to everybody who wants and needs healthy delicious produce. Maybe one day when we have a million dollars or when things are perfect with the world that will happen. But for now, we have to be conscious of the business aspects of our program, in order to keep it going into the future. You must always be grounded in and intimately connected to community in order to stay true to your good intentions, but if the numbers don’t add up, your enterprise will close and any more good you could have done through that vehicle is no longer possible. Think long-term sustainability, for the good of everyone who could benefit from your project - now and in the future. The most important thing is building relationships with people. Social enterprises are about people, right? Relationships with other people will enrich our lives and support our goals, but relationships will also keep your life and work moving forward, no matter what happens to your current project in its current form. A very high percentage of businesses and enterprises fail in their early years. However, if you go about your work with relationship building and human connections as primary, whatever you do in that time can still be used to start

other enterprises, create or pursue more opportunities, and carry forward your vision through other vehicles.

Visit us at food.kheprw.org, e-mail food@kheprw.org, or call 317-329-4803 x 703 to get in touch with the Community Controlled Food Initiative- CCFI.

HUMANITY

food +

GOODNESS Food is essential to our existence. How does food speak to this better understand of each other as humans and what does it mean to our lives? There’s an inherent goodness to food. The earth nourishing a seed that becomes sustinance. And if you really think about the way food looks, it’s different shapes and textures, tastes and smells, I think you’ll be pretty damn in awe. There are moments that food contributes to this unspeakable goodness of life itself. Food is a teacher. It shapes our human experience in endless ways. Here are just a few...

FOOD + goodness

HUMANITY

A CONCISE PHILOSOPHICAL TREATISE ON GOOD FOOD

by Cierra Klatt

ood can be neutral. You can diminish it to nothing but mere calories for consumption in order to go on walking, talking, etc. Food can also be an evil. You can fervently believe that it is your greatest enemy, filing a restraining order and forcing it out when it makes its way in. However, food, like everything else, contains more than fiber and sodium and carbohydratesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;it intrinsically contains goodness.

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But how? There are many characteristics that make good food actually good. Momâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s piping hot chili and cornbread on an October evening warms not only stomachs, but icy attitudes at the dinner table. Then again, a frozen popsicle can make nearly any fussy, overheated child gleam with sticky joy. And better yet, even the most uncreative people can be handed a plate

“

A GOOD EXPERIENCE IS ONLY GOOD WHEN YOU SHARE IT WITH OTHERS.

”

A good experience is only good when you share it with others. Be honest, even if you have a good experience alone, you at least tell someone about it. Mom’s autumn chili isn’t good simply because of the homegrown tomatoes—no, it’s good because of the nostalgia and the kids sitting still for once and the way Dad chopped the onions so Mom’s eyes wouldn’t water. And even if Mom accidentally burned the dessert to a crisp, Dad would make a joke about it and even bad food could create good memories. My favorite miracle Jesus ever did was when he fed fivethousand people. Only hours before, he found out that his cousin (and close friend) John was murdered, so he went to the middle of nowhere to sob profusely without interruption. Yet, this herd of hungry people show up to begging to hear him talk. So, Jesus talks. He has compassion. He loves them. And he makes them lunch.

of unrecognizable, maybe-not-even-edible, food . . . and still value the artistic, aesthetic efforts. You trust the crazy chef, take a tiny bite, and find your palette arising from the grave.

But watch—he doesn’t make the damn best roasted quail with Chermoula vinaigrette and sautéed asparagus. No, he made it a group effort. With some kid’s day old bread and hand-caught fish, Jesus brought together five-thousand people for a meal—a meal they would never forget.

But we still haven’t answered the question, “What makes food good?” An obvious response is: HELLO, the TASTE! . . . maybe that’s a part of it. But I’d argue there’s something more.

Don’t be worried the next time you make someone dinner from a box of mac & cheese. If you’re enjoying food with good community, you have all the ingredients you need for a great meal.

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FOOD +

IF YOU COULD HAVE 7 OTHER PEOPLE TO SHARE A MEAL WITH...

who would it be and what would you eat?

D R A W

I T

H E R E .

HUMANITY

by Kelsey Miller

eat food. I love it. I love even more to make it, to sauté and chop and dice and dip my spoon in the sauce to taste as it simmers. Grocery stores are something of my happy place. Farmer’s markets make me all but giddy. I have a working menu for the restaurant I’d love to open one day. On one hand, I just love food itself. I have strong feelings about cilantro. And garlic. And olive oil. When they’re combined? Bless. I have not yet met a bowl of pasta that I did not like. The smell of bread baking in the oven just about makes me cry. I feel a kindredness to Sookie in Gilmore Girls because I ﬁnd it difﬁcult to relinquish control in the kitchen. If there’s a sauce simmering, I likely feel the need to taste it and then add some more pepper. When we come to the table to eat, we set down what it is that we are supposed to be doing for the time being and relax into our humanity that requires we be fed. We can go around and wax eloquent about our accomplishments and how mighty and strong we are, but at the end of the day, we are still bound by certain common human experiences. And for all of us, that is food. The prince and the pauper are suddenly on equal ground.

ks FOOD

+ goodness

On the other hand, I love food because I feel strongly the need to feed people. Are you hungry? Let me make you something. I’m sure you’re just being shy. I cannot ﬁx your problems, but I can make you enchiladas and that feels like an excellent start. I see nourishment in the form of food as the precursor for so many other things, as a platform for so much goodness and prosperity. Sweet potato curry probably won’t change your life, but it might change your mood and that feels like enough of a win for the time being. So, don’t ﬁght it. If you’re coming to my house, I’m very likely going to feed you banana bread and make you a cup of coffee. But even still, despite my love for food and cooking, somewhere along the way of my life, I began to harbor a resentment towards it— towards that love, that enjoyment, and even food itself. My relationship with food has been clouded by a deep sense of shame. That I shouldn’t be hungry. That I shouldn’t be giving my next meal any thought. That thin and beautiful girls don’t admit to loving food and in fact, avoid it as much as they can. That the thing that I love is the precise reason my jeans are a little tight this week.

I love food. I love eating it, creating with it, serving it to my people. And yet, I often curse it, almost all in one complicated and confusing breath. I have set food as the enemy, rebuking it for the consequences that I suddenly take note of on my hips. No matter the problem, whether it be the extra weight on my legs or the spots on my face, food has always been to blame.

I spent years wishing away my hunger, wishing that I was the kind of girl who could forget to eat lunch, like some of my friends said they did, wishing that my appetite would simply be done away with. And then it was.

I read somewhere that part of our growing up is by declaring what we love. I think that’s true. I think there’s something that speaks beautifully of contentment and maturity when we are able to say, “This. I love this. This is my thing.” For years, I’ve struggled with declaring those loves for My sophomore year of college, I struggled one reason or another, though most of through a bout of a couple of months where them are easily traced back to insecurity. Writing, food, As a result, I tried on cooking: I’ve numerous accounts in swept these my teenage years to not loves under TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE, FEMININITY, eat. More explicitly, to rugs and starve myself. I never told them to could hold on for pipe down in AS I PERCEIVED IT, DID NOT HAVE ROOM very long (a grace I some of the do not thank God for moments they FOR HUNGER. often enough) and my were all but practice never slipped screaming, into any extremes, but “THIS IS IT!” the sentiment was there I have shamed even then. I was angry at food, and for what I hardly ate at all. I was suffering from such myself for years over how God has made I blamed it to have done to my body. I could anxiety that the smallest bite of food made me, but I really don’t want to anymore. find nothing redeemable or beautiful about me want to vomit. Full meals were out of the Truth be told, I am tired and shame is the way that food nourished me, sustained question. I felt so anxious that I could hardly heavier than the pounds I carry now that I me, strengthened me to be God’s servant, swallow. What was normally an automatic am (thanks be to God) able to eat. because as far as I was concerned, it was bodily response became unnecessarily what stood between me and the size two difficult, seemingly and scarily impossible. Slowly, I’m beginning to mend. My first pants I desperately wanted. instinct is still to curse whatever I have Unsurprisingly, I lost weight. Apparently, that eaten that week on the mornings I am To make matters worse, femininity, as I really is what happens when you don’t eat. feeling squishy. I would be lying if I said perceived it, did not have room for hunger. I don’t ever entertain the idea of skipping Instead I saw it played out in comments I look back at the pictures now and see this meals. But these days, as I stand at the stove like, “Oh no, I’m fine, I don’t need anything thinner girl, and in an admittedly weird with one hand sautéing kale and the other to eat,” or taking nibbling bites at salads, metaphysical sort of way, I try to send as much taking homemade bread out of the oven, I leaving more than half to be thrown out. love and peace to her as I can. I could place am ever more aware of the gift— to be able While I certainly go through bouts of feeling the pictures from then and now next to each to cook, to have access to fresh food with like I’m not enough, my deepest fear is more other and see the difference, but the part that which to cook, to have friends to sit at my likely that I am too big, too large, just too strikes me the most is this: I have no memory table. It is no small thing. much. And food, and my hunger for it, is no of being more satisfied. I was a bit thinner-different. that’s not even a questionable thing. But I I am hungry, though not just for food don’t remember having any more peace of anymore, but for the sweet presence of Be as small and gentle as possible, Femininity mind about who I was. I wasn’t happier then. I Jesus. For all the times I’ve cursed the gift of whispered in my ear, and immediately, I set daresay I was in worse shape emotionally than food, of cooking, of eating at all, He has sat down my fork, wipe my lips, and convince I’d ever been. And as my friend Jordan reminds there patiently at my kitchen table, ready to myself I’m full. Particularly in the crucial me, “You might have been thinner. But it was a share with me the everlasting Bread of life time I was learning what it meant to be a product of a really unhappy time.” that satisfies even my deepest hunger. woman, all I could hear was the insistent voice that told me that I must be controlled, limited, and never ask for seconds. 43

HUMANITY

grew up with the security, comforts, and privileges of a good home. I enjoyed good meals surrounded by a caring family. I took my first communion after I was baptized in a Baptist church. My peers in youth group and my studies in school formed me. But now I am a twenty-something, grown up and sent out into the world to find formation and meaning for myself. And I am not alone in this: my peers, my fellow Millennials, are developing new ways of meaning — often apart from the social institutions of older generations. One meaning-making venture that captivates me is food culture. For me, and for many Millenials, this culture grows out of our social and economic disillusionment. Our mistrust of institutions pushes us to form our own sustaining economy outside the financial status and direction that aging institutions offer. I find myself spending money at local farms, coffee shops, and restaurants run by fellow Millennials. Though we are accused of lazing away from success, sidestepping the venerable ladder of corporate America, we are actually finding success in new, creative ways in the local economy. The newsworthy Millennial exists, but looks different: She is an entrepreneurial restaurateur committed to both local sourcing and hole-in-the-wallness. She employs over-educated and underemployed — or sometimes seemingly unemployable — folks to run the business with her. Food as a culture also rises outside the restaurant in my circles. The traditional family meal may have been knocked from its pedestal, yet if we struggle through holiday meals with family, we joyously anticipate the annual Friendsgiving celebration. This sacred meal accommodates friends displaced by choice or accident — an international student or a gay friend whose home is full of aggressions or rejection. With our budding social geography we appreciate food in new ways. Community happens intentionally or unintentionally, often over plates of food. Food, for me and my peers, means more than simple sustenance. Culture and community springs forth in a mystical way that is physical, social, emotional, and spiritual. And many of my friends follow a passion to pursue food justice and development work. As a table with friends slows us down, or a quick bite provides an opportunity to support a friend’s business, a deep understanding of food takes hold that connects with our sense of justice and peace.

Food has taken hold of us. Deep in our character, food makes holy connections that exhilarate us and simply make sense of the world. I find this fascinating in light of the one trend that Millienals are most known for: the abandonment of religious identity. 35% of Millennials ascribed to no religion in the US Census, earning the title “the Nones.” The old understanding of spirituality and meaning is changing in our collective experience. I stand at the margins of the Christianity I was raised with, disagreeing, participating, observing, and listening. From here, I eat with my mostly white church congregation and also with a diverse set of neighbors excited by my church’s food but not by its cultural baggage. I eat and drink with

this culture grows out of our social and economic disillusionment black Christian activists, with secular humanist Baby Boomers, and with Millennial “Nones.” I eat and wonder, with the last vapors of Eucharist on my breath: does my less Christian generation understand the power of this mysterious communion meal more than my fellow parishioners? Am I finding the radical divine providence and spiritual community more in a shared meal than the teaching and function of my church? With these meaningful experiences in a culture of food, do I incorporate or critique the Eucharistic practice at my church? I see real manna at the food pantry that freely gives food from my urban neighborhood’s CSA farm. My peers find existential nourishment in a carefully curated meal that reflects the sacramental truth of the Eucharist. We Millennials work from the ground we till and the institutions we deconstruct to cultivate meaning in our situations. As I sip coffee and nibble my sweet biscuit after dinner, I wonder: is God in the food we prepare, the culture we create?

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food & theology by Chelsea Smith

I want to treat theology like your food, spending time cultivating it from the depths of the earth so that its rich and grounded I want to treat theology like your food, understanding where it comes from and the culture it binds to knowing it may bring you life if it’s good, should be tossed out if it’s rotten I want to treat theology like your food, being careful everything is edible and encourages your thriving We can tell if we’ve been consuming something toxic, our bodies can tell I want to treat theology like your food, spending time to know its ins and outs, so that I can weave different parts together that you may not have tried on your own, I want to bring you joy and comfort I treat theology like your food, in the ways I can’t stop creating with it, consuming it, searching for new possibilities that will keep us all full, of life.

HUMANITY

HEREâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S TO

THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE