The email subject line beamed from my crowded inbox: “16 dishes to make for someone going through a hard time.”
I love cooking for people. I couldn’t resist clicking on the email from New York Times. The list was not surprising: lasagna, enchiladas, soups and stews. Comfort food.
I loved the underlying assumptions of this headline and article, which affirm my convictions:
one: people do go through hard times, and
two: good folks notice and respond when their friends go through those valleys, and
three: food helps.
This article in the NYT literally invited people to practice hospitality and generosity.
Photo by furkanfdemir: https://www.pexels.com/
When my friend Lisa was going through cancer treatment, our group of friends in the neighborhood took turns bringing meals. After she passed away, I brought her husband and son a meal. And pie. When another friend lost her husband, I brought a meal and pumpkin bread. Her kids declared it the best pumpkin bread ever—maybe they could taste the love that went into it. Food brought with the intention to comfort often does just that.
When I write about hospitality, as I do in this space, some folks push back. It’s not their gift, their house is too messy, etc. They fear the “h-word.” Want to practice hospitality but not actually have people in your house? Bring a meal to someone who has:
Just had a baby
Just found out the fertility treatment didn’t work, again
Just lost their job
Just lost a loved one
Just got a bad medical report
Notice that word: “just.” As in, this week. It conveys urgency. Because we sometimes have intentions that don’t turn into action. Let go of having to make something perfect and just bring some food. Now. Don’t tell yourself “I ought to do that soon…” Just do it now.
Of course, you could also invite them over to your home to enjoy the meal you’ve made, but there are times when someone doesn’t even have the emotional energy to be welcomed. They need a meal they can eat without having to take a shower first.
If your cooking confidence lags, or you’re just too busy, pick up a bagged salad and a rotisserie chicken or frozen lasagna, and just bring it to that person in your life who just needs one burden lifted—the burden of figuring out what is for dinner. That person who is wondering if anyone cares.
What food says
What is it about food, especially heavy, rich, cheesy things like pasta or casseroles that communicates love and care? When we share food, we provide much more than sustenance. We bless that person, offering them spiritual and emotional provision. We bring a pot of soup, but with it, love. We call it comfort food for a reason.
A home-cooked meal (or any meal), delivered to someone “going through a hard time,” says:
I see your pain
I care about you
I’m not trying to fix you
I am trying to comfort you
You’re not alone
Sometimes, those words are hard to say out loud. But a pot of chili and a pan of cornbread, delivered hot at dinnertime, might express our compassion quite eloquently.
We live in a culture that values self-reliance. Especially in the west, we view the world through an individual lens, not a collective one. Other cultures throughout the world think (and eat) more communally, but we are a people who eat in our cars, or in front of our televisions. We consume, but we don’t always enjoy. We overeat, but never really feast. We literally choose to eat food we call “junk.”
In this context, cooking a meal for someone who’s struggling is that much more profoundly meaningful. We might be offering something they wouldn’t typically provide for themselves, even in good times.
Jesus once said, “I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat.” His listeners, perplexed, asked “Um, when exactly did we do this?” And he said, “Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” He taught that hospitality (feeding and welcoming) were the path into the kingdom of God. (See Matthew 25:31-41)
We may think of this in terms of feeding the homeless or supporting missions to far off lands ravaged by famine. Which is accurate, but incomplete. Some folks try to turn this teaching into metaphor about spiritual hunger and thirst, the prison or sickness of sin, etc.
I don’t buy that—because real people are hungry, thirsty, strangers, prisoners and so on. Those human needs are real, and Jesus asked us to meet them in tangible ways.
We can’t meet every need; we can’t fix every problem. But we can respond to what is right in front of us. We can love our neighbor. We can live attentive enough to notice when people we care about are going through a hard time. They have spiritual needs, yes, but also physical, practical needs.
When we walk through the valley with people and offer them something as elemental and simple as a meal, we put ourselves into a unique position to experience Jesus’ presence. We have before us an opportunity for transformational welcome—because our provision for others becomes connection with Jesus—for them, and for us. And indeed, for the recipients, we’ve put food on their table and in some way, put Jesus at that table as well.
Hungry for more than food
A person going through a hard time is hungry for more than just food. They are starving to be seen, longing for connection—even if they have trouble articulating that need.
What if feeding someone goes beyond a meal? Who in your life is hungry for companionship, for kindness? Could we offer the sustenance of our attention to that person? Could we hold space for them, welcome them? Offer them the gift of our presence, our attention?
Making a meal requires something of us, though. It takes time, forethought. When we bring a meal to others, we likely don’t just throw it together. We don’t give them the leftovers from the back of the fridge. We don’t make a boxed mac and cheese, and deliver it in a pot, instructing them to eat it while standing at the stove. A meal, even a simple casserole or pasta bake delivered to someone else’s home, requires effort and intention. It requires an investment on our part.
But like any investment, there’s a return. Maybe that person will return the favor someday. Or maybe not. That’s not the actual payback. Rather, the return is the experience divine presence in the simple act of feeding others that Jesus promised. We touch joy when we combine the practices of generosity and hospitality.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio: https://www.pexels.com/
It’s interesting. Jesus didn’t say, “tell people they are sinners” or “get people to believe the right things about theology” or even “tell people to follow me.” Instead, he said we should feed them, clothe them, welcome them, visit them.
In other words, love first. Proclaim love, not just with words, but sometimes, with a casserole.
P.S. Hungry for more about generosity and hospitality? You’ll enjoy my book GodSpace: Embracing the Inconvenient Adventure of Intimacy with God. Grab a copy for yourself and a friend now, while it’s on sale!