WWJE: Rethinking Food, Faith, and Fellowship in the Modern Church

Faith, family, and food have always been connected — even in ancient times. Some of the same foods we eat today nourished people thousands of years ago:

• Bread & Barley – daily staples and symbols of God’s provision

• Grapes & Wine – joy, celebration, and abundance

• Honey – natural sweetness and energy

• Lentils, garlic & herbs – simple, wholesome nutrition

• Fish & Lamb – shared meals and sacred traditions

• Milk & Cheese – signs of nourishment and comfort

Simple. Real. Rooted — just as it was meant to be.

However, in this day and age, I’m often left confused and conflicted. I sometimes wonder how Jesus would truly feel about the religious customs we share today. I’m not picking on just one religion — most all of them leave me questioning how our current nutrition is seen by our Creator.

Let me start first by picking on Catholics, who during Lent do not eat meat on Fridays, with the exception of fish.

My dad and his family were Catholic, and I was baptized Catholic, but our family had changed to Lutheran (Missouri Synod) by the time I was in fifth grade or so.

Whether I was Catholic or Lutheran, I vividly remember being served fish sticks on Fridays at school, usually accompanied by canned peas that were gray in color. Sometimes students would get the notorious triangle fish with instant mashed potatoes. Either way, it felt like a sacrifice compared to the lunches we ate every other day of the week. The Northstar Lounge in Fenton, Iowa, would always offer a Friday night fish fry dinner, which was far better than what was served in the school cafeteria.

So why fish on Fridays? The Catholic faith believes in no meat on Fridays during Lent to honor Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross. This practice is a form of penance and self-denial, commemorating Christ’s death on a Friday, and is an ancient Christian tradition. Abstaining from meat is intended to be a sacrifice that unites the faithful with Jesus’s suffering, and fish is traditionally permitted as an alternative.

Catholic churches celebrate Lent on Fridays with community fish fries, often accompanied by potato salad, coleslaw and a wide variety of homemade baked desserts. Most restaurants, like the Northstar in Fenton, Iowa, promote delicious fish options during the Lent season — which today seem more like a luxury meal or an upgrade from the hamburger you might typically order. If you’re on the run, you can enjoy any number of fast-food fish sandwiches served on a white processed bun with a side of fries and perhaps a large soda.

I’m not certain that any Catholic who indulges in these fish options is truly practicing penance and self-denial. And I strongly believe that when the Bible talks about eating fish, it’s not meant to be battered, deep-fried, and bathed in refined oil on one end, or a rich crab-stuffed lobster on the other. My idea of fish on Fridays to honor Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross would be a plain fish fillet — no breading, no seasoning — and a glass of water, if I’m being honest.

Now let’s move to the Jewish religion. I worked at the Temple Bnai Jeshurun in Des Moines, Iowa which was a Jewish synagogue my first year of college, and coming from small-town Iowa and the Protestant church, this was definitely a cultural experience — one that broadened my religious views.

I found out when ordering pizza for the synagogue staff one day (my vote was sausage and mushroom) that Jews don’t eat pork! Pork is prohibited by kashrut, the set of Jewish dietary laws found in the Torah. Specifically, Leviticus 11:7–8 and Deuteronomy 14:8 state that pigs are unclean animals because they have split hooves but do not chew their cud — both traits are required for an animal to be considered kosher. Who knew!?

So, in short: pork isn’t kosher, and observant Jews avoid it out of religious obedience and cultural tradition that’s been passed down for thousands of years.

However, the biblical definition of “unclean” isn’t really about hygiene the way we think of it today — it’s more symbolic and spiritual. But I can’t help but think about modern farming, especially factory or confinement operations (and I’ve seen and smelled plenty in the Midwest). Some of the “clean” animals we eat today are often raised in conditions far dirtier than pigs ever were naturally.

Here are a few examples:

• Chickens and turkeys: In industrial poultry farms, they’re packed by the thousands in tight barns with poor ventilation, living in their own waste. That environment can lead to high ammonia levels, infections, and contamination (like salmonella).

• Cattle: Feedlot beef cattle spend their last months standing in mud and manure, eating unnatural high-corn diets that can cause digestive problems and E. coli growth.

• Fish (especially farmed salmon and tilapia): Many fish farms are overcrowded, leading to dirty water, waste buildup, and the need for antibiotics to keep them alive.

So, while pigs got labeled “unclean” in ancient texts, modern farming practices can make nearly any animal’s environment unhealthy or “dirty.” That’s why many people today focus less on which animal is “clean” and more on how it’s raised — choosing pasture-raised, grass-fed, or wild-caught whenever possible. Perhaps the Jewish community should think about this perspective and enjoy a nice slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza.

Now, let’s not forget about the Protestants. As I mentioned, I grew up in the Lutheran church, and Lutherans are definitely known for their casseroles and love of potlucks. I remember our confirmation class making an elaborate Easter morning breakfast that was served after the sunrise service. It included eggs, sausage, milk, juice, and trays upon trays of cinnamon rolls and beautifully decorated donuts.

Food has always been a centerpiece of community for Protestants. Those casseroles, coffee, and donuts after church aren’t just about eating — they’re about fellowship, comfort, and shared joy. It’s a reflection of hospitality and togetherness, which are beautiful parts of faith life.

But over time, those moments of connection have turned into overindulgence. When the table becomes a place of excess rather than nourishment, it starts working against the very values it’s meant to celebrate — like caring for our bodies as gifts from God.

I think the balance lies in keeping the fellowship but shifting the focus away from gluttony. Imagine if church potlucks were filled with real, wholesome foods — colorful salads, homemade soups, hearty grain dishes, fresh fruit — still made with love, but also with an awareness of how we honor our health. It’s not about taking away comfort food; it’s about making the table a reflection of gratitude, mindfulness, and stewardship — of both community and body.

1 Corinthians 6:19–20: “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit… Therefore, honor God with your bodies.” In other words, treat your body like sacred space — not a dumping ground.

Our culture today has definitely blended comfort, convenience, and consumerism into faith spaces.

And in many modern churches, you can now grab a pumpkin spice latte or mocha before worship — even order it from your seat. On the surface, it’s meant to make people feel welcome and relaxed, but it also raises an honest question: are we feeding our spirits or just our sugar cravings?

Jesus consistently taught simplicity, humility, and stewardship — of both our money and our bodies. It’s hard to imagine Him encouraging us to sip $7 sugar bombs while listening to a sermon on gratitude or sacrifice. The message isn’t that coffee is bad, but that we’ve turned worship into something comfortable and consumer-driven instead of sacred and reflective.

Maybe it’s time to reframe that. Worship doesn’t need whipped cream and caramel drizzle — it needs presence, community, and heart. Simple and back to the basics.

Galatians 5:22–23: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace… and self-control.” Meaning, self-control is spiritual, not restrictive.

And when it comes to communion, I remember back in the day taking a piece of bread from our pastor’s hand and sipping wine out of the same goblet as fellow congregation members. Today, so many churches use hundreds or thousands of single-use communion cups that it’s easy to forget the environmental impact. All that plastic ends up in landfills, contributing to pollution and harming the Earth — the very creation God entrusted to us.

Communion is meant to be a sacred, reflective act, yet in our pursuit of convenience (and avoiding one another’s germs), we sometimes overlook stewardship of the planet. Imagine if congregations embraced reusable cups, glass, or biodegradable options. Not only would it honor the environment, but it would also teach care and responsibility as a form of worship — showing that loving God extends to loving His creation.

As you sit down at the dinner table tonight and say grace, thanking God for the food He has put before you, ask yourself if the nutrition you are about to consume truly came from God or from a factory. Will what you eat truly nourish your body, or will it, over time, contribute to chronic disease? I highly doubt that God (or Jesus) is smiling down upon us and blessing our plate of chicken nuggets, Kraft Mac & Cheese, and a Diet Dew.

To sum it up, if you’re going to observe Lent, skip the fried foods and desserts, and focus your attention on true sacrifice. For the Jewish community who completely avoids pork — think about the other animals and ultra-processed foods you’re putting into your body that may be far worse than a clean pork chop or a slice of sausage and mushroom pizza. And for the love of Pete, to my fellow Protestants out there: please cut back on eating at the trough like actual cattle. When I look out into any congregation, there are so many of God’s children who are overweight, unhealthy, and suffering. He did not want this for us. I’m sure God would be disappointed — and saddened — by how we treat our own bodies, which are a gift from Him (and we only get one in our lifetime).

Let me conclude with this: Jesus turned water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee (John 2:1–11). It was His first recorded miracle, revealing several key truths — including compassion, joy, and spiritual transformation.

I’ll have another glass, please — and make it a tall pour.