Giving Thanks
So, my brother shot a deer. Those of you who know my brother will know how absurd that is. Since going to IU, my brother has fully embraced various hippy trends. He went through his vegetarian phase, his vegan phase, and his eating out of dumpsters (lest food go to waste) phase. Now, he wants to be self-sufficient and off-the-grid. So my hippy brother got someone to take him hunting, and he shot a deer. A 200-pound, 11-point buck, at that.
When I returned home for Thanksgiving this week, I was gifted with two pounds of ground deer meat. For some reason, I’m finding this difficult. Don’t get me wrong; I embrace being an omnivore. While I respect vegetarians and their reasons for abstaining, we’ve got pointy teeth for a reason, folks. So why is this hard? I find myself wanting to “honor” the deer with the way I prepare it. I don’t want to mix it up with a box of hamburger helper. I want to be sure that the texture and flavor is appreciated.
I’ve eaten animals I’ve known before. Friends have cooked for me chickens that they had plucked just that day. I’ve cleaned and cooked fish that I’ve caught straight from the lake. Like my hippy brother, I prefer to eat local meat from trusted sources. So what is the deal with this deer?
I’ve thought about it all weekend, and I’ve decided that the answer is this: Sacrifice. There’s not a great sense of sacrifice when you eat a chicken. Chickens are raised for that very purpose, and even my friend’s chickens - which are treated to the best life a chicken could ask for before being made delicious - don’t seem to have much in the way of life about them. But this deer - I can imagine the life it might have had, the years of freedom running through the woods, gone with a gunshot. Maybe I’m prejudice against mammals, but it seems a much larger sacrifice than scooping a walleye out of the lake. And not only the deer, but the sacrifice on the part of my brother, too. Because the decision ending something’s life - be it chicken or fish or deer - is not without consequences, especially the first time.
So this week, when I sit down to my meal, I will once again be giving thanks - to God, to my brother, to the deer, for their sacrifice.
When I returned home for Thanksgiving this week, I was gifted with two pounds of ground deer meat. For some reason, I’m finding this difficult. Don’t get me wrong; I embrace being an omnivore. While I respect vegetarians and their reasons for abstaining, we’ve got pointy teeth for a reason, folks. So why is this hard? I find myself wanting to “honor” the deer with the way I prepare it. I don’t want to mix it up with a box of hamburger helper. I want to be sure that the texture and flavor is appreciated.
I’ve eaten animals I’ve known before. Friends have cooked for me chickens that they had plucked just that day. I’ve cleaned and cooked fish that I’ve caught straight from the lake. Like my hippy brother, I prefer to eat local meat from trusted sources. So what is the deal with this deer?
I’ve thought about it all weekend, and I’ve decided that the answer is this: Sacrifice. There’s not a great sense of sacrifice when you eat a chicken. Chickens are raised for that very purpose, and even my friend’s chickens - which are treated to the best life a chicken could ask for before being made delicious - don’t seem to have much in the way of life about them. But this deer - I can imagine the life it might have had, the years of freedom running through the woods, gone with a gunshot. Maybe I’m prejudice against mammals, but it seems a much larger sacrifice than scooping a walleye out of the lake. And not only the deer, but the sacrifice on the part of my brother, too. Because the decision ending something’s life - be it chicken or fish or deer - is not without consequences, especially the first time.
So this week, when I sit down to my meal, I will once again be giving thanks - to God, to my brother, to the deer, for their sacrifice.