From the Editor’s Desk
Abundant food is one of the great blessings of our era.
Unfortunately, the very quantity and variety of the food that’s
available to us create problems for our inner lives.
A hundred years ago foreigners regularly commented about
the puritanism that Americans displayed about sex. Much has
changed since then. We have become remarkably frank about sex.
You can stand in the supermarket checkout line and see the
blurbs on covers for women’s magazines about having incredible
orgasms and discovering the hottest sex secrets men don’t want
you to know. On the other hand, over the last generation it
seems that a great deal of the discomfort towards sex that
Americans once felt has been displaced onto food. Today food in
practically all its forms induces a tremendous amount of
anxiety. Advertisers even play to this occasionally. A few years
ago a brand of especially rich ice cream used the slogan “Enjoy
the guilt.”
Granted, there are reasons for this anxiety. Obesity rates
are high and continue to soar higher. And many of our biggest
health problems—diabetes, heart disease, and some forms of
cancer—are caused by bad dietary habits. But it seems that
everywhere you turn, there seems to be some reason for not
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feeling right about the foods you eat. This is true even of
things that are usually considered beneficial. Fruits and
vegetables cause fear because of the pesticide residues they may
have in them. Rice, I learn from a recent issue of Consumer
Reports, has been found to contain high quantities of arsenic.
Even wheat, the most universal of foodstuffs, has come under
suspicion, as increasing numbers of health problems have been
traced to gluten.
Much of this apprehension is well-grounded, but soon a
subtle dynamic comes into play. We feel guilty about eating
something; this guilt makes us feel bad; and the bad feeling is
itself a kind of punishment. Thus having paid the price for our
behavior by beating ourselves up internally, we feel free to
repeat the behavior. I suspect that many types of eating
disorder have their root in this cycle.
The point is that guilt is not a solution for our foodborne anxieties; it is in large part the cause of them. While
there is certainly every reason to consider one’s dietary
choices soberly and consciously, it’s also wise to be realistic
with yourself about what you are and aren’t going to eat and
make peace with yourself accordingly.
What, then, about those who have made conscious and
spiritually informed choices about their diet? Such people
include Theosophists who practice vegetarianism. I would imagine
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that people in this category (and I am not among them) feel
considerably less guilt and anxiety about food than most people.
And certainly the decision to avoid meat is often inspired by
the highest and most praiseworthy ideals, as Will Tuttle’s
article in this issue shows. But problems intrude here as well.
From an inner point of view, if you’re following a diet
that you consider to be superior to those of ordinary people, it
can pose a subtle but powerful spiritual temptation. That
temptation is known as pride. A number of the vegetarian
Theosophists that I know occasionally give off a certain “stink
of holiness” about their dietary practice, no matter how
elevated its goals may be in and of themselves. While this
attitude is sometimes unpleasant for others to be around, its
greatest difficulty may be for those who practice it. It’s a
very short step from saying “Vegetarianism makes me a better
person” to saying “Vegetarianism makes me a better person than
people who eat meat.” This kind of self-superiority can pose
severe obstacles on the spiritual path.
From an external point of view, the problem is similar.
Some may find it tempting to sermonize about their practice. Not
long ago, a seasoned observer of the Chicago spiritual scene
said to me, “Whenever I go to the Theosophical Society, somebody
gives me a lecture on vegetarianism.” (Admittedly, this is
probably less true today than it was years back.) For the most
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part, this simply doesn’t work. As a rule people don’t like
preaching and won’t be convinced by it. Preaching to the
converted is so popular because it is the only kind that works;
otherwise the hearer either stops paying attention or becomes
even more firmly rooted in his resistance. I suspect that many
people have been turned off to the Theosophical Society over the
years not because of vegetarianism, but because of smugness
about vegetarianism.
What’s the solution? Personally, I don’t care for
salesmanship. I believe it is possible to live and embody one’s
values without turning them into a commodity to be marketed. It
makes me think of the Sufi order known as the “way of blame”—a
group whose members make every effort to appear irreligious and
nonobservant even though they are in fact highly devout. Should
you become a secret vegetarian? Probably not. But there are
times when it’s valuable to know when to remain silent.
Richard Smoley
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