We're about through our "bread of life" marathon in John 6. It works out rather well that this falls in the summer, I think, since the varied schedules of both staff and parishioners means that each Sunday we truly have a different congregation in the pews, so it's hard to feel like we're repeating ourselves, even if Jesus is.
This piece from the New York Times on special diets and hospitality didn't exactly make it into my sermons this month, but it did get me thinking about the ways that changing one's diet can be a way of expressing a new identity:
Today’s restricted eaters are prone to identity-driven pronouncements along the lines of “I’m gluten free.” (It’s worth nothing that, back in the aughts, no one declared “I’m Atkins!” Except, quite possibly, Dr. Robert Atkins himself.)
Consumers seem to be building self through sustenance, adjusting their appetites to reflect independence and moral character. In numerous interviews with restricted-diet adherents and those who study and feed them, control and identity were two common themes on everyone’s lips.
“It’s an alternative way of finding an identity in a place where identity is increasingly uncertain,” said Richard Wilk, the director of Indiana University’s doctoral program in food studies. “So much of our lives are completely out of our control. You can go to college and not get a job. You can do an internship and not get a job. The economy takes some new tack every 15 minutes.”
We often say to those who have communed at ECLC "You are the Body of Christ." What would it mean to take that identity as seriously as "gluten-free."?