Food Rules

Our society is riddled with various and contradictory ideas about food, and these ideas have penetrated our churches. Committed vegetarians proudly remind us that in their perfect state, Adam and Eve were herbivores and that Daniel’s complexion brightened on his greens and beans diet. Zealous, whole-foods folks point out that the Israelites—a people set apart—were kept pure through avoidance of flesh-rippers and other creepy creeping creatures. Enthusiastic omnivores unfurl and wave Peter’s sheet and point to baskets filled with fish and bread. Teetotalers quaff at the suggestion that Jesus transformed water into real—and real good—wine. The organic farming types advocate absence from processed food while munching on Ezekiel’s all-natural bread.

Despite these significant disagreements, many Christian Americans agree that we ought to restrict, limit, pick and choose. And those who don’t restrict, limit, pick and choose the same things we do are wrong and ought to know it. We, as women, are particularly prone to making and keeping such rules. It is no accident that many, many diet books target women.

Why? While we could blame it on Eve who started the trend of sinning through food, I suggest it originates within. Our attitude toward food reflects our spiritual state.

Heart Food

The Old and New Testaments agree on this point (as, indeed, on all other things). In the Old Testament, various stories show how our attitude toward food is a sign of a deeper spiritual reality. In the New Testament, Paul explains that our eating, or refraining, mirror what’s going on inside us (and I don’t mean digesting). Jesus himself echoes both.

In the beginning, God set Adam and Eve in a fruit- (and veggie-) filled garden and told them to eat freely. He gave them one dietary restriction—one tree must go untasted. They tasted. Thus, by food they fell. But was it because they failed in their diet plan? In other words, did what they put into their mouths make them unholy, impure, sinful—fallen?

When Eve ate it was out of pride and distrust. Proudly, she sought to be like the God whose goodness she did not trust (Gen. 3:4–6). What she put in her mouth reflected what was already in her heart. Thus, I posit, the sin originated in her heart, not the fruit. The fruit was good; God had declared it so (Gen. 1:11–12). What was not good: Eve’s disobedience to God’s direct command.

Esau emulates her. Driven by carnal desires, Esau inhaled Jacob’s stew with one hand while holding out his birthright with the other. Though one could argue that Esau’s eating only indicates a big appetite, and the fault was with Jacob for making such mouth-watering food, the Hebrew shows otherwise. “The Hebrew indicates the impulsive and hurried request of one who lived for the moment” (commentary on Gen. 25:30, ESV Study Bible). As with Eve, the food was not at fault; rather, it was Esau’s lust for immediate sensual satisfaction that resulted in sin.

On the flip side, Daniel’s abstinence from meats does not indicate that carrots are holy and broccoli blessed or that the meat was wracked with sin-producing poisons (Dan. 1:8–16). Rather, the context shows that Daniel did not eat the meat because it would result in breaking God’s commandments concerning food, as found in the Mosaic law. (Rules which God created to set Israel apart from the heathen nations [Lev. 11:44–45; 20:7].) Therefore, the Lord blessed him because his heart was set to honor God. What he ate, and the result, was a reflection of his obedient heart, not the sanctity of the food. This idea is developed further in the New Testament.

The Proof Is in the Pudding

When the Pharisees scold Jesus for allowing the disciples to eat with unclean hands, Jesus tells this parable. “Hear and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person” (Matt. 15:10–11). The disciples heard but didn’t understand. So Jesus expounds: “Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth passes into the stomach and is expelled? But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person . . . to eat with unwashed hands does not defile anyone” (Matt. 15:17–18, 20b).

Though Jesus is specifically referring to hand washing, the principle holds: sin travels from the heart to the mouth, not the mouth to the heart. The food—or washing or not washing—is not the issue; the issue is our heart. How, what, and with whom we eat reveals what is already in our heart. Consider Paul’s words: “Food will not commend us to God. We are no worse off if we do not eat, and no better off if we do” (1 Cor. 8:9).

Immediately following the above statement, Paul says that we must not eat (or presumably drink) those foods which will cause our brother to sin. Doing so would result in the denial of that person’s own conscience. For example, if to your brother eating a burger from McDonald’s will tempt him to sin by denying his conviction not to support corrupt corporations (not realizing that God is Lord over all such), don’t wave a Big Mac under his nose (see 1 Cor. 8). In other words, just because no food is inherently sinful does not mean you can’t sin with it (Douglas Wilson, Confessions of a Food Catholic).

Dirty Cups

But if no food is inherently sinful, and if what God really cares about is our heart, why the division over food? We divide over food precisely because we don’t want to deal with our heart. It is far easier to come up with a list of foods fit to eat than to stop looking at porn (Wilson, Food Catholic). It is far easier to scoff and deride your co-op salad brother than deal with our own issues of gluttony and hedonism. It is far easier—and makes us feel pretty good about ourselves—to dedicate hours to counting our proteins, carbs, fats, rather than face our deep mistrust of God’s goodness.

If we cut ourselves off from others in pursuit of the high calling of food holiness, we convince ourselves that those other sins are not really important—maybe not even sins at all. Rather, we become quite sure that with each bite of holy food, we are becoming more holy; and with each step away from those unholy eaters, we are becoming more pure. In short, we think we can, through food, become our own saviors. Sounds eerily familiar to what happened in Eden.

The result, we are a bunch of dirty cups. We look awfully clean on the outside, but inside is rotting milk and—ew, what is that? By acting as though what we eat can save us, we are effectively polishing the outside while ignoring our sin-filled insides.

What does the inside of your heart look like? What do your food habits say about the contents of your heart? Why do you eat what you eat?

Mrs. Elisabeth Bloechl a member of Orthodox Presbyterian Church Hammond, is a house cleaner and aspiring writer in Hammond, WI.