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Food, culture and the gospel

webanxeatwellforlesss1There is a small number of television programmes that I love to watch when they are on. The week is regularly bracketed by University Challenge on Mondays and Gardener’s World on Fridays, but there are two less regular mid-week programmes that I love. One is Michael Mosley’s ‘Trust me, I’m a Doctor’ which conduct pioneering research on common health questions. But the other is at the opposite end of both science and culture.

In ‘Eat Well for Less?‘ is presented by Greg Wallace (of Masterchef) and Chris Bavin (a presented and grocer). They are both from the East End of London, so there is plenty of banter, and the show is pretty formulaic. It follows the same pattern every week, and the two of them do a great double act. They start by introducing a family, and they then watch at the adult couple do a supermarket shop, with Greg and Chris ‘hiding’ in the stock cupboard watching the ‘secret’ filming (how secret can a whole film crew be in a supermarket?) until they ‘surprise’ the couple and present them with the facts of their shopping.

Every week, the couple do appear genuinely surprised at how much they are spending, even in the single shopping trip that has been spied on. In a recent show, the husband like spicy food, but his wife only ever cooked bland dishes, so he used to stop off on the way home from work to pick up a ready meal—a habit that more than doubled their total food spending. The families that are featured are not completely typical (otherwise the programme would be less interesting) but the total food bill for a family of four or five from one week to the next is typically between £8,000 and £10,000 per year. Given that most of the people are in semi-skilled rather than professional jobs, that is truly staggering. At the start, Greg and Chris do something of a good cop/bad cop thing, where they estimate how much their advice will save the family. Greg always gives a modest estimate, whereas Chris often thinks they will save around £80 a week—in round terms £4,000 a year—and Chris is almost always right.


At one level the programme is light-hearted, and everyone ends on good terms. But it carries some serious messages, and although Greg and Chris ham it up nicely, there are some shocking things that come to light. In fact, I think the programme communicates some profound messages.

First, food is never just about food. Even the act of simply getting a couple to talk about the food bill throws up a series of painful and deep issues in their relationship. At the lowest level, this might be that the couple (and their children) simply have different tastes in food, and like to eat different things. Not a few of the couples have handled this (or, rather, not done so) by each having a different, separate meal every evening, rather than talk and compromise. At a deeper level, conflicting views about the use of money emerge. But from time to time, there are some profound personal issues that have never been resolved. In one programme, the mother had given up her employment in order to spend more time cooking for her children—and this included baking a cake every day as well as cooking the usual meals and additional snacks. The reason, it emerged, is that she was driven by her own experience of poverty, including her parents giving her white bread sugar sandwiches when they had nothing else to eat, so she saw it as an essential expression of her love for her children to give them the opposite. (As my daughter said, sitting next to me on the sofa: ‘She doesn’t need advice—she needs therapy!’).

Secondly, knowledge does not bring wisdom. When Greg and Chris confront the couples with their spending habits, they are not doing something that the couple could not do for themselves. They are not incapable of adding up their expenditure—they are just not in the habit of doing it, or of sitting down together and talking about it. It is not difficult to do an internet search on healthy eating or good recipes for whatever one’s eating preferences are, but you need the will to do it, and for most people they are too busy and too attached to existing habits to make the change.

Each programme takes a break from looking at the family of the week to explore healthy cooking, and to do at least one blind taste test. This consistently shows that the more expensive branded products are not the best value for money—and often not even the preferred choice in terms of quality and taste. And yet people keep on buying the expensive, branded products to their own detriment. One of the programme’s ploys is to remove all food labels from the family’s kitchen, so that they cannot tell whether they are still eating the same variety that they have always bought. And each week they reject a ‘changed’ item which they clearly do not like—when it turns out this is the product they are wedded to. it highlights the central lie of our economic systems: the idea that people make rational choices, and that all we need is more information in order to make better rational choices. A national health strategy that depends on such assumptions (such as simply putting more information on packaging) is certain to fail.

Thirdly, the destructive power of consumerism. In one episode, where the family have been banned from eating frozen food and ready meals, and instead given fresh produce, one child picks up an avocado pear and asks ‘What is this?’ It is clear that one impact of our industrialised farming and food industry has been a profound disconnection between what we eat and where it comes from. In the last two years, I have found it a wonderful spiritual and personal discipline to be able to grow and eat some of my own food—even if it is a very small part of my overall consumption. It connects me with the earth from which all my food ultimately comes, and gives a new dimension to my gratitude for its provision.

But consumerism in relation to food has also broken the connections between people and even, as the programme shows, within families. The ability to choose whatever we want in the supermarket frames our whole approach to life, so that we cannot see why we shouldn’t simply make similar choices in every aspect of our lives. Shared habits and disciplines are lost, and relationships fracture. Last week, at the biennial Grove Books conference for editorial groups, Michael Volland from Ridley Hall offered us a list of key issues in culture and church that we should be addressing—and high on his list was the loneliness created by a self-service culture.

It is surely no accident that the major discipline of the early church was a shared meal together—nor that two significant initiatives in the contemporary church—the Alpha Course and Messy Church—both involve a communal meal.


But one of the most telling lessons is this: you can only hear good news if you have heard the bad news. It would be interesting to look behind the scenes, and see how the programme is set up, and how much of it is genuinely a surprise to the couples involved. But the consistent impression is that they are genuinely taken back by what they discover. Greg and Chris are, in some sense, trusted experts, and they have come in with the explicit permission of the family—so the context of all the conversation is an established, trusted relationship where permission has been given. But when the time comes, they do not hold back from confronting the couple with the reality of what they are doing—and it is sometimes very painful indeed. Last week, the woman actually burst into tears in the supermarket as Greg read out the total of all the till receipts from their week’s spending. There are times when I really want to fast forward through the middle part of the show, because the issues are so painful and so obvious.

But the end result of the process, as Greg and Chris journey with them—with their permission—is that their lives are measurably improved. Not only have the families saved money, but they have often moved on in their relationships with each other, improved their health, and rediscovered the enjoyment of family life together around the meal table where they share a common meal together.

I wonder if the church has anything it can learn from that?


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2 Responses to Food, culture and the gospel

  1. Don Benson September 14, 2016 at 10:46 pm #

    Ian, you’ve highlighted one of the great downsides of a high tech, mostly city-based, society: the loss of a real and meaningful engagement with the natural world.

    And it always puzzles me how much this is reflected within today’s Christian communities, given how much there is in the bible about food, animals, plants, weather and the environment in general (indeed the whole story starts in a garden!).

    Yet, year after year the thanks and joy of harvest festivals are glossed over for the sake of making everyone feel guilty about the unfair distribution of food in the world – it’s a very important issue but not the point of harvest festival. I once attended a big evangelical town centre church which turned harvest festival into its missionary Sunday – the harvest of souls – no real thanks to God for the real harvest. And I never once heard a prayer of thanks to God in any church on behalf of the nation as North Sea oil started to flow; such a massive gift of real wealth from creation, yet no thanks.

    Perhaps among evangelicals in particular the fear of hinting at animism or paganism has caused us to be overly suspicious of anything to do with the natural world, and thus to restrict ourselves to the spiritual. Yet the whole of creation is God’s, he saw that it was good, and despite the fall it remains his creation, we are a part of it, we depend upon it and, in some measure at least, have a responsibility towards it. It is just so amazingly good!

  2. Elizabeth Bridcut September 19, 2016 at 4:20 pm #

    Thank you, much to chew over there – boom boom!! The point re the disconnect between our eating and food in its natural state is valid but the example of the avocado pear is a tad unfortunate…. I was brought up on meals cooked from scratch and home grown veg but I wouldn’t have recognised an avocado when I was a child – I could identify kohlrabi, rhubarb chard (actually I think maybe it’s ruby chard) and purple sprouting broccoli though!!

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