FOOD For Thought

Worship today, bears an uncanny resemblance
To our modern relationship with food
There exists the Pure and the processed 
The Authentic and the counterfeit
And we as consumers, split
Between the Sacred, and the synthetic

What were once Holy acts of offerings,
Have become curated experiences
The church, a sprawling supermarket of spirituality
Aisles lined; varied in vivid, dazzling choices 
Each tailored to meet the palate of personal preferences
Appealing to every conceivable taste 

Choices not necessarily rooted in Truth or substance
Instead, they’re designed to attract
To satisfy cravings shaped more by culture than by conviction
As we drift through specious sanctuaries
Like shoppers in fluorescent lit stores
Selecting what pleases the senses, and coddles the soul

Worship today, is often presented
In neat, appetizing packages
Flavored for easy consumption 
Artificially shaped, and subtly manipulated
Engineered to be more desirable rather than nourishing
And laced with spiritual preservatives; to sustain stale bread

On shelves lined with selections readily available
Surface level options slowly poisoning the soul
Under the guise of satisfaction
Convenient, emotionally gratifying, and ultimately hollow
And because it tastes so good
It is consumed habitually; unquestioningly

Because it is familiar, and easy, and demands very little
Fitting to the moods of the consumer’s emotions
Transactions aligning with our comforts
Rich in flavor, and sweetened with sentiment
Colored with performance, and injected
With just enough fervor to stir emotion without touching the soul

No cultivation of taste or trial of spirit
Worship has become a matter of consumption
Rather than communion
Of feelings, rather than faith
We no longer ascend the mountain to meet The Divine
We shop for a god who fits conveniently into our fleshy lives

Sadly, in this modern setting and state
Worship is no longer the sacred act of reverence
The Deeper, rich offerings requiring contemplation
Discipline and discomfort are often ignored
And, ironically, we have considerably drifted away
From The Bread of Life; found only along the perimeter

Outside of the aisles is where True Worship exists
The Truest sustenance lies at the edges
Less advertised, less flashy, but far more nourishing
Genuinely crafted to cultivate the spirit 
For the transformation of the soul into a new life
There are the disciplines and depths of Truth

Not engineered for ease
But forged for endurance
Not shouting for our attention
But with still small voice, waiting
Like ancient grains, timeless and whole
For the two or three who still hunger for what is real

Yet, how few actually venture there
Most will remain within the center aisles
Seduced by spectacle and sweetness
Mistaking sensation for Spirit
And so the soul, like the body, fed on artifice
Grows bloated, but starved; filled, but never truly fulfilled