On October 29, 2008, I ate meat for the first time.
Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. I actually ate meat for the first time in 365 days, marking the end of both my “Jesus year” and my extended excursion into vegetarianism. To explain what may seem rather random or absurd, I should probably give you a bit of context.
Turning thirty-three was significant time marker for me.It represented, in a strange way, more than just another birthday or year gone by. Thirty-three is largely considered the age Jesus Christ was when His life and ministry were abruptly ended in His crucifixion.As a practicing Christian (emphasis on practicing), I have always felt a sort of build-up to this age. It’s not that anyone tried to actually compare me to Jesus or asked me if I planned on outdoing, one-upping, or upstaging Him in some way; it’s just that in the back of my mind it seemed like there was a sort of historical/biblical precedent for being at the height of one’s career, or at least doing something incredibly important at that age.
Some people reach prominence much earlier to be sure – Mozart was a child when he wrote his first symphony, and John McEnroe was only twenty when he won his first Grand Slam singles title in tennis. Certainly, I wasn’t feeling like I had to out-accomplish either of them (although they represent more reasonable goals than single-handedly saving the world). But I did find myself evaluating what I had actually accomplished in my life so far, noting how that compared with where I wanted to be, and thinking of some way to distract myself from the depression that resulted. Thus was born the idea of doing a year-long project to commemorate my “Jesus year” in some significant way.
This wasn’t an entirely novel epiphany, as three years earlier I had successfully completed another, and more apparently absurd, year-long project.That time, from my twenty-ninth to my thirtieth birthday, I wore the same outfit every day. Before being too horrified at the unsanitary connotations of this prospect, let me reassure you that I did purchase multiple copies of said outfit. I wore an identical version of the same uniform every day that year, though I did allow myself a lighter, short-sleeved version at the six-month mark. It just gets too hot in New York City for a long-sleeved T-shirt and pinstriped wool pants in August.
The motivation for that project was essentially the same as my vegetarian Jesus year. By taking on a project that had daily ramifications, I found a way of being distracted from the nagging thoughts and conversations I wanted to avoid.When I found myself in conversations about what I was going to do before I turned thirty, it was really easy to divert conversation completely by explaining how my major accomplishment was dressing the same every day (it’s a great topic for conversation, by the way).
This year was no different, but I also found myself wanting to do something appropriate to the Jesus-ness of the occasion – something that would help me think differently or act more like Jesus in some way. Vegetarianism seemed like a likely candidate. I can’t say for certain that Jesus would be a vegetarian if He were walking around Manhattan, but I do think He’d definitely be aware of what He ate and I wouldn’t be surprised, knowing the way food is produced in the U.S., if He avoided meat altogether. I am sure He would tread lightly upon the earth, if you want to use the carbon footprint metaphor.I’ve actually argued that veganism is probably the ultimate ethical way to live in the twenty-first century, when it comes to food and respect for creation, but I don’t think I can go as far as pinning it on the Savior. He did cook fish for the disciples, after all.Of course this also brings up my favorite religious joke:
Question: How does Jesus make breakfast?
Answer: “Breakfast.”
Giving up meat was going to affect me every day. Every meal would be a reminder of what I was giving up, and why. I have been a life-long “meat enthusiast,” but my wife has been a vegetarian for almost sixteen years.I never really understood why she never wanted to go to steak houses or barbecue joints (still my favorite places to eat). By giving up meat, I decided I could identify better with my wife, potentially strengthen my marriage, gain a completely new perspective and have a daily reminder – all at the same time.
To say it was an easy year would be lying, but it was, in some ways, easier than I thought. It may also have something to do with the fact that the last meat I ate before starting the endeavor was the most disgusting hamburger you could buy – it came from at a truck stop Burger King off the New Jersey Turnpike. After that, I had little desire to eat meat for several weeks. But also, I live in New York City, where you can get just about any thing you want at just about any time of day or night. This is convenient – there’s a large variety of places and food types within a short distance. You could eat a new cuisine every day and not even realize there’s no meat. Throw a rock and you can find a vegetarian Thai restaurant that uses startlingly accurate meat substitutes in almost all of its dishes.
But there were times when it was incredibly difficult, too, like on vacation. We spent a week in Cape Cod this summer, and it turns out that Cape Cod cuisine consists mostly of parsley and potato salad when seafood isn’t front and center. Likewise, in the midwest, where my family lives, they haven’t exactly caught up with the coasts for giving a veg-head many options. Did you ever notice that almost every single dish on an Applebee’s menu has meat in it? Seriously . . . even the salads include bacon or chicken or deep-fried beef.
But now that the year is over, I’m glad I did it.My empathy for my wife, regarding food, grew more than I thought it would.It was like we were on the same special culinary team this year. I learned to appreciate her in a new way, she saw me identify with her in new ways, and I’m sure we saved money – meat dishes are almost always more expensive in restaurants.Not only that, but somehow I managed to actually value meat more.The questions of knowing where your meat comes from, if it’s organic or ethically raised, somehow became a priority. If this was a project for my Jesus year, and Jesus was at the core, it seemed to make killing and eating His creation a bit more significant. I don’t know if all of this made me any more like Jesus, but I do think it has helped make me a little more conscientious in general, which I think Jesus would appreciate.
On my thirty-fourth birthday, when my wife and I went out for an intimate dinner in Brooklyn to break my year-long fast, she warned me not to get a steak and make myself sick. But I decided on something different anyway, because I wanted to end this self-assigned task appropriately.To end my Jesus year, I had the lamb chops.
And it was good.
