Setting the table is about more than etiquette and proper manners.
As Agnes Meehan’s first granddaughter, I had the distinct honor of being selected to help her prepare for her annual Christmas Eve party when I was about 8 years old.
A close look at scripture shows the importance of food throughout human history.
The first meal ever recorded in the Bible was pretty sparse: a mythical piece of fruit. Today this would amount to a healthy snack. At the time, it was the most harmful bite imaginable. Of course, the story in Genesis 3 isn’t about eating so much as it is about hunger. We humans seem to be hungry all the time. We crave food and drink, sweet and salty flavors available to many of us at arm’s length. But we’re also hungry for the love and support of others, for attention and recognition.
A humanitarian crisis lurks in our modern food delivery system.
Strolling your supermarket aisles, you have one eye on your family’s food needs for the week and another on whatever bargains you may be able to pull off the shelf. You can be forgiven if, coupons in hand, you’re not worrying about avoiding food that includes hidden ingredients like, well, slavery. Sadly, in today’s interconnected food marketplace, compelled or uncompensated labor—even child slavery—provides a reliable competitive edge for many food exporters.
A nonprofit organization helps churches put down roots—both in the soil and the community.
Every week, hands plunge into the earth at St. Benedict the African East Catholic Church in Englewood, a neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side. Around five raised-bed plots and six container gardens church volunteers, police and fire department baseball league players, and various community members pull weeds, plant flowers, and get to know one another.
The “Garden of Eatin’ ” grows tomatoes, kale, peppers, eggplant, and salad greens. The congregation shares the crops and donates the excess to the local food pantry, says Susan Rashad, founder of the parish’s garden club.
Catholics with celiac disease struggle for inclusion in the church's one body.
My three teenage daughters and I sat on jackets on the sidewalk. We were part of a much larger human jigsaw puzzle, one that morphed every few minutes from sitting to standing to kneeling on the sandpapery concrete in front of a Subway in downtown Philadelphia.
We couldn’t see the altar except on the jumbotron, but no one hesitated saying the response: “Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”
Homeboy Bakery in Los Angeles is the site of reconciliation and transformation for ex-gang members.
Step into Homeboy Bakery and you might think it’s any other neighborhood bake shop. You can buy artisan breads, pastries, and cookies that are made every day from scratch. Take a step into the kitchen, though, and you’ll understand why it’s not just any other bakery. All of the bread and treats are made and sold by formerly incarcerated and rehabilitated gang members.
Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles is the largest gang intervention, rehabilitation, and reentry program in the world. Homeboy Bakery, which opened in 1992, was the first of Homeboy Industries’ social enterprises.
The best solutions to food deserts often come from within the community.
“Am I too late?” the young woman asked frantically as she ran into the community center.
The WellnessWorks Mobile Food Pantry was closing for the day, but Deborah Shaffer, regional director for Catholic Charities West Virginia, asked the woman if she needed help.
“She said, ‘Yes, we don’t have any food left in the house, and I haven’t eaten for two days because I wanted to make sure my kids had food,’ ” Shaffer recalls. “I just looked at her and I said, ‘You’ll eat today.’ ”
Much like Merton and de Mello, peas, carrots, and beans make great spiritual masters.
Genesis’ second chapter tells a story of how God planted a garden, then created human beings to till it. The reason is obvious: Gardens are a lot of work, so Yahweh needed help to keep Eden weeded.
I realized that this summer, the first season I’ve had my own backyard garden. The locavores, foodies, granolas, Amish, and other assorted environmentalists and farm types convinced me that it would be worth the effort to grow my own food. Plus, I hate to mow the grass, so vegetables seemed preferable to a lawn.
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