I know I promised a while back that Brad would guest post about food. It didn't happen.
Best of intentions, right?
Good news: He finished it! Well, he finished the first part. So, while I'm dealing with this...
...I'll let you read through some of Brad's thoughts. Unless you want to come here and help...?
My dad likes to
tell the story of the first time I ever ate solid food. He thinks of it as the quintessential example
of the way I regard food. Until that
first bite, I had consumed only milk, as you might expect. As I grew, my parents noticed that I was
becoming more and more discontent at the dinner table—I with my bottle and they
with their plates of food. Eventually,
they decided that perhaps I was fussy because I wanted what they had. They decided one day to let me try a bite of
cereal. I am told that, after receiving
the gift, I stopped for a minute to ponder this new delight, then anxiously
opened my mouth and stretched it towards the source of the food, not unlike a
baby bird looking for its next bite of worm.
The rest is history. This is Erin: I really wish you could all see Brad's dad reenact this story. It's hilarious.
I love food and
have (apparently) since I first tried it.
In more recent times I have begun to take an interest in food beyond the
mere act of eating. What meaning lies
behind this activity that is at the same time a brute necessity for continued
living and one of the highest joys of life?
I have more questions and musings than concrete answers, but as I have
mulled over the topic, it has led to the occasional (slight) change in the way
I think about eating, and thus in the way I eat. Erin has been in on quite a few of these
conversations and changes (don’t worry—we’re not vegan or anything like that)
and she asked me to guest blog with some of these thoughts. So here I am!
Rather than
blather on stream-of-consciousness-style about my sometimes aimless thoughts about
food (inevitably punctuated with something pointless, like “Oh, I do like a
good hamburger”), I’ll highlight two influential books on food that I have
recently read. The first is “The Hungry
Soul: Eating and the Perfecting of Our Nature” by Leon Kass and the second is
“Food and Faith: A Theology of Eating” by Norman Wirzba. Out of fear of my editor (a.k.a. Erin) and
the slashing powers she holds (muahahaha), I’ll break this up into two entries—the first on
Kass, the second on Wirzba—and try to keep things to a reasonable length.
I was first
introduced to “The Hungry Soul” in an ethics class on Personhood, which turned
out to be an appropriate setting. The
author, Leon Kass (who is a self-proclaimed “strange author”—trained as a
“physician and then a biochemist” but practicing neither, and “untrained in
philosophy and literature,” yet teaching both at one of the world’s premier
universities) proclaims up front that his quest to search out the meaning of
eating is merely a case-study. His quest
is not driven merely by an interest in eating but rather by an interest in the lofty
question of what it means to be human. Talking
about eating is a great place to start.
Through this case study of eating, he is “hunting bigger game,” as he
cleverly claims.
The thesis of this
work revolves around philosophical words and concepts like “form,” “nature” and
“science.” In layman’s terms, Kass is
convinced that a merely “scientific” understanding of eating does not do
justice to the practice. To properly
describe eating, you must do much more than simply explain the mechanics of the
mouth and digestive system; you must go further than merely fitting the
consumption of food within an overall schema of survival. Rather, you must look into the form of humans. By “form,” Kass means at the most basic level
(but certainly not the only level) the shape of the human body. The fact that we stand upright or eat at a
table or eat and speak with the same body part is meaningful to Kass. Thus the shape of our human bodies as well as
universal practices associated with eating tell us something about how we
should live.
So, for example,
one of the recurring themes in “The Hungry Soul” is that human eating sets us
apart from other animals (I know this seems really self-evident, but I do think
there’s more to this point than may first appear). At the most basic level, our ability to lift
food precisely to our mouth with our hands sets us apart. As is seen in the way that humans “eat” and
animals merely “feed”, says Kass, human nature is something loftier than animal
nature. The way we take in food reinforces that separation. Kass takes issue, therefore, with eating
while walking or supping while watching TV (like animals at a trough, says
Kass) or eating an ice cream cone (like a cat licking up milk). Even if you don’t agree entirely (Erin and I
still have the occasional dinner on the couch while watching a movie...and Erin still really likes to eat ice cream from a cone), I do
think these points highlight something about right living. What Kass is driving at is the idea that (1)
the shape (as in actual, physical shape along with habits and “patterns” of
daily living) of our lives tells us something about what makes for truly good
living, and (2) insofar as we can, the ways we choose to arrange our lives in
turn shape the kinds of people we are.
Think of a lazy,
lives-in-his-mom’s-basement scalawag.
Surely his messiness reflects some character problems, but does not his
created surrounding further shape his character into something more and more
like an animal and less and less like a virtuous human? By choosing to live in squalor, to eat old
leftover pizza directly from the pizza box while lounging on the couch, and to refuse
to bathe on an appropriately frequent basis, does he not lower himself further
into an animal-like state? I think so. Not only is his personal character demeaned, but he also harms himself as a social being. He moves further and further from being able
to truly enjoy the wonderful experience of dining at a table (or especially
experiencing the elevated celebration of a true feast) with other humans in a
joyous and orderly way that can never be attained by the animals. On the same token, does not the child who
learns proper table manners and customs from a young age prepare himself for a
better, nobler future life? Although the
good practices do not guarantee anything, such efforts do help to solidify
certain virtues—personal as well as social.
The way we shape our world (including our practices of eating) in turn
shapes who we are.
I have promised
not to blather on, so I will draw this entry about eating to a conclusion. There is much in Kass’ book that I have not
even touched, but hopefully I have given you an adequate introduction to a
truly fascinating read on what it means to eat, and in turn, what it means to be
human. If you’re interested further,
pick up a copy of the book! Although it
will seem a little slow in parts for those who don’t prefer philosophical
books, “The Hungry Soul” is certainly accessible to a wide audience and, in my
opinion, well worth the read! As Kass
would say, Bon appétit!
Erin again: Brad made me promise to include a picture of Kass's book, so here it is:
Have a happy Friday...I should be back soon with my weekly outfit update. Assuming I can still find my closet through the boxes.
