Food as Sacrament

Recently, I went hunting with my dad. First of all, this is the first time that I have hunted--I mean, really hunted. not just plinking Blue Jays or lizards with a BB gun. I have never really taken up hunting because I don't like loud noises. I like guns ok, but loud bangs next to my face are not something that are pleasing to me. Anyway, I started hunting the hard way: with a bow and arrow. Granted, it was a compound bow, and some might argue that that is not quite authentic enough, but let me tell you, hunting with a bow is hard!

So one of the main reasons I wanted to start hunting was to re-establish the sacramental connection between us and our food. One of my big criticisms of modern life is that we have no connection with our food and no connection with our land. We talk all big about how we want organic food and free range eggs and so forth, but when it comes down to it, we are missing a connection between that animal in the field and the food on our plate. I think it is no small omission.

In my humble opinion, that disconnect between food and animal started happening back when farmers began to industrialize the way they raised animals and crops. Animals became a product to be streamlined and made more efficient, rather than a creation to be respected and honored as a gift. When we began to kill cattle, pigs, chicken, etc. on a mass scale, we began to depersonalize the death and sacrifice of the animals for our food. No longer did Farmer John raise the beef and Butcher Bob kill it, cut it, and wrap it up for us. Rather, a multi-national corporation owning bazillions of cattle crammed into tiny feedlots, fed a super-high protein diet filled with all sorts of animal by-products and antibiotics (whether they needed it or not), and sold it to the American public very cheaply.

I am not totally anti-big business. But I am suspicious of big business like I am of big government. They get too big for their britches and start to take advantage of others and have unethical business practices. So, getting back on point, I wanted to re-establish that sacramental connection between my food and me. So I went hunting for deer with my dad.

First of all, the time spent with my dad was great. I will always remember and treasure that time with him. Secondly, deer hunting with a bow is much quieter than with guns. For a good opportunity to shoot a deer with a bow, you need to be within 45 yards or 55 yards at most. To get that close to a deer, you need to be quiet. It was a good opportunity for me to sit still and be quiet. Thirdly, I loved the chance to be outdoors in the mountains. I love camping and fishing... and this was just great to be around a campfire every night and enjoy nature.

We hunted for about a week and saw some bucks and many does. However, we never got a good opportunity to shoot a buck--they were always too far away, or were high-tailing it away from us. On our last day, we decided to go out for a morning hunt before we packed up camp. We drove all around, not seeing much of anything. And then, there he was... standing, of all places, in the middle of the road about 150 yards ahead of us. A forked horn on both sides, just looking at us! He casually trotted off the road and up into the brush. Idling forward, we stopped right where we saw him. And immediately to our left, there he was, standing broadside to us about 35 yards off the road! My dad urged me to get out of the truck and take a shot at him.

My hands shaking, I quickly notched an arrow into the string. Slowly getting out of the truck, I turned around to see that the buck had moved. However, he had moved toward us! I drew back my bow and asked my dad, "How far is he now?" "Use your 25 pin!" My dad whispered back hurriedly. I lined him up with where I thought I should shoot, and let my arrow fly. It hit the deer with a satisfying thwack and the deer jumped and bucked once before taking off like lightning parallel to the road.

So that was the exciting part. The hunt and shot were exhilarating, no doubt. The tracking of my kill also was something that was quite fun--it heightened my senses and made me really look at things. However, the end of the hunt and tracking lead to the kill, and at the end of the day, the kill was the sacrament that I was looking for.

It is never joyous to see a deer dead. They are incredible creatures: beautiful, elegant, graceful... It is a sad occasion. This was no different. I crossed myself and thanked God for the sacrifice which this animal had made for me and my family. I thanked God for a not-terrible shot which killed this deer without too much suffering. And then we proceeded to field-dress it, and take it into town.

The effect of actually killing a deer was profound. For one, I found that I really do like hunting. For another, I discovered that even through all the excitement, the weight of that animal's sacrifice was not diminished. What made it more poignant was the fact that not only did we field-dress the animal, but we also skinned it and butchered it all ourselves. (And when I say *we* I mean that my dad did most of the work showing me what to do with me helping in a very minor way!) But what a contrast to what most people do nowadays... If we want some meat, all we do is go down to the store and pick up a pack of ribs. Do we even have a connection that those ribs belonged to an animal? I don't know. I think for the most part we don't think about that... and that is a shame. As we distance ourselves from the reality of death and sacrifice of animals for our benefit (i.e. Nature), we also distance ourselves from the reality of God. As we get out of touch with the land and our place here on earth, we lose touch with our Creator.

Maybe if more people had the experience to hunt, skin, and butcher their own meat, perhaps they would be more grateful for what it is they are partaking of. And maybe being more grateful, they might give thanks to the Giver of all things...

Glory to God...