I am what some might call a veteran of the college life. My peers of the class of 2018 and I have been attending APU for almost four years. In that span of time, my friends and I have had the chance to sit in upwards of 250 colloquy discussions, reading more than 50 books, learning from a collection of 17 different professors, over eight semesters. And, without counting weekends, many of my peers and I have had around 1800 meals. Assuming that I had only three cups of coffee a day per weekday using a standard 12 oz. paper cup, I wager that I have had 21,600 oz. of coffee to keep me going since the first day of school.
The reason why I bring this up is because, for all of the conversations I’ve had, for all of the experiences we’ve shared, for all of the books we’ve read and papers we’ve written, I want to let you know that my time in college has boiled down to a few core truths. The one that I want to share today is, strangely enough, that you are what you eat.
The thing is, there are a number of different things that you can choose to chow down on throughout your college career. For me, coffee was definitely one of those things. As college students, we might want to stay up all night and eat our fill of the Taco Bells and McDonald’s of the college experience, basing our choices off of pleasure or usefulness. Aristotle imagined that most of our friendships begin this way. And while it is fine to have Taco Bell and McDonald’s every so often, if you make them your main source of nutrition, you might find yourself feeling ill after some time. The thing is, we need to make room for better food to help us grow in wisdom and stature – we need to make room for friends of virtue. These are those we find around us who spur us on to greater character and virtue.
The Reformer Martin Luther thought about that better food, especially when it came to one of the core symbols of the Christian faith. According to Luther, it is “through the interchange of [Christ’s] blessings and our misfortunes [that] we become one loaf, one bread, one body, one drink, and have all things in common.” Christ’s taking on of our form opens the possibility that we might take on his righteousness. This is symbolized in the elements of the Lord’s Supper. Later, the Lutheran theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer extended his predecessor’s metaphor – in the same way that the bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ, more mature Christians are invited to walk alongside and support their less mature sisters and brothers until they can stand on their own in the community. And just as how it is in remembering Christ in the Lord’s Supper that we are also simultaneously re-membered – rejoined – into the larger community of Christ’s body, we are reminded that in everything we do, we are formed by what we partake in. We are formed by the communities of which we are a part. We are formed by the relationships we pursue. We are formed by what we read and wrestle with. In short, you are what you eat.
The word we use to describe more mature persons watching over others on any journey of life comes from Homer’s Odyssey, when the young Telemachus sets off on a coming-of-age journey to find his father. He is successful thanks to the goddess Athena who guides, supports, and walks with Telemachus in the form of his father’s old friend, Mentor. Because Telemachus listens to Mentor and not the voices of others, he ultimately comes into his own.
Mentors are essential to any successful journey, and many of us strive to practice good mentorship. The thing is though, we can’t force someone to choose what to partake in. It’s up to each person to choose his or her future. If we are changed and formed by the ideas, values, relationships, and communities we internalize–if we are what we eat– what choices do you want to define you? Who do you hope to be in four years?