When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those
who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. – John 6:12-13

I had one of those interesting coincidences happen today. I was in a waiting room and picked up a practically-ancient copy of a National Geographic that was on the table. The issue focused on food – food security, cultural and faith traditions around food, emotional and physical research on food. One article talked about a fact I had heard of before: that famine and hunger are not about a lack of food production, but are instead a human-made phenomenon due to access, politics, and economics. According to the statistics, there is enough food produced around the world to adequately provide each person – – approximately 7 billion people – with over 2,000 calories of food per day, which is the World Health Organization’s recommended guideline. Yet, people starve on city streets and in rural towns in our country and throughout the world.

I thought about not only my own food consumption, but especially my food waste. Then on the way home, I heard an interview with Dana Gunders, author and scientist at the Natural Resources Defense Council. Publicizing her new
book, she shared her passion for addressing, reducing, and eliminating food waste – starting with our own refrigerators and stovetops. Again, her statistics were startling: 40% of food in the U.S. goes to waste; 25% of the water used for food production goes toward food that is never eaten; the U.S. has increased food waste 50% since the 1970’s; the average person wastes $30 worth of food per month.

Go ahead and multiply that last amount by the number of people in your house, then annualize it! And again, I was called to not only consider my own food consumption, but especially my food waste. You may know that I love to cook. I try to plan out my meals for a few days, buy just what I need, and make sure I cook it on time. But sometimes the recipe is a flop, or the leftovers are unappealing, or my appetite changes and I simply don’t want to eat what I’ve planned. If I don’t eat the veggies in time, they go in the compost. If I don’t put the meat in the freezer in time, it goes in the trash. Having a kid in the house and also enjoying convenience for myself, I have some prepared foods: deli meats, cheese, dips. Sometimes I forget about them or don’t want them. Into the trash they go.

The interesting thing about throwing away meats and some veggies is that you can see what you paid for them. The price sticker from the scale is right on the package. As they fall into the trash, I picture myself throwing out that amount of money, and try to remember that image on my next grocery shopping trip: “Stop buying turkey at the deli, Chris! You and Izzy aren’t eating it!”

All of this leads me to my Lenten practice. As I write this, today is Ash Wednesday. As you read this, we are right in the middle of Lent. In addition to one other self-care related practice, I have decided that I will track my food waste during Lent. I will keep a chart by my trashcan and compost bucket, and will mark the food and approximate amount and value each time I toss something that should’ve been eaten into the trash. I imagine this will be both sobering and embarrassing.

How is this a Lenten practice? Primarily, it calls me to acknowledge and reflect on my position in the world and how the things I take for granted are desperately lacking for others. My waste of these resources is a sin, and disconnects me from my fellow Children of God. Now, this is largely indirect. Just like how the parental admonition that a child’s uneaten food is an affront to children in foreign countries never actually resulted in parents packaging up leftovers and shipping them overseas, this is instead a reminder for me to both examine my privilege and consider the needs of and injustice toward others.

It also calls me to consider Jesus’s message of abundance, balanced with the portrayal of the early Christian community described in Acts, where members gave what they could and were supplied with what they needed – no more and no less (Acts 2, Acts 4). Am I taking more than my share of the abundance? Am I leaving others with less than they need? Again, this is indirect, but I am certain that this practice will impact my consumer habits and
choices, and could possibly lead me to greater advocacy and action concerning food security and food justice – – just as several of our church members and friends already do.

So as I once again clean out my fridge to prepare for the weekly trash day, and simultaneously create my shopping list based on my fridge inventory, I’ll also mark down what I’ve wasted – – and I’ll confess and
repent.

Bon appétit and amen.

Peace & Blessings,
Chris