Some of you may have seen this before...
I've never been one for new year's resolutions. In fact, I've never made one before. Being the cynic that I am, all I can do is scoff whenever someone tells me their "new year's resolution". The problem for me is that it has always seemed like betterment for betterment sakes. If you really wanted to change your life, you would just do it. The coming or going of a year shouldn't have to control that. I realize it's a good time to start, but the people that have the motivation and willpower to change their lives won't wait for a date of convenience. That being said, I've decided to make a change this new year. I've decided to become a vegetarian. Muffle your groans, I have real reasons.
As some of you may or may not realize, I'm somewhat of a hipster. I wouldn't say I'm a true convert, soaking in the pools of blind faith, and fervent worship - but I'm definitely interested enough to stop by a couple Sundays a month and hang out with the crowd. I even have the cloth shoes, black trimmed glasses, and Animal Collective discography to ward off anyone that would question my loyalty to the movement. As of late, vegetarianism has a popular topic in these circles. In an environment such as the United States, it's a very effective way to be counter cultural and draw attention to yourself. That is very annoying. I knew a good number of people that when I'd ask them, "Why are you vegetarian?", they could produce nothing more than vague ramblings. That is not to say everyone was like this. There are several, prominent examples in my life of people that have wholeheartedly made the life-choice for great, logical, Godly reasons. Each of them taught me that's its a personal decision that one needs to make for personal reasons. Ever since then, I've known the mounds of statistics and all the formal arguments against meat consumption (primarily in the United States). But for all the facts, there was never a reason that emotionally resonated with me.
Eating is one of the most social things we do as a society. That means that becoming a vegetarian is not only about you. You're bound to run into countless, awkward situations that start with you gingerly saying, "I'm actually a vegetarian." and then ending with an awkward silence. For me, statistics, no matter how convincing, couldn't motivate me to make the leap. [They are pretty good statistics though.] For the past couple of years it has remained in the back of my mind. Even this past term in India it had come up several times. I'm a obsessive Google Reader user and these were two of the more memorable articles I read - one an interview for a book from the author of Everything is Illuminated and then a crazy response by Natalie Portman to the book. Yet even these weren't enough. But alas, last term I found my personal reason.
One of the churches here in Mussoorie (the town I live in) has a reputation for particularly dance-happy youth. My roommate and I decided to throw a dance party at our house before he went back to the states. We approached their proverbial leader and proposed the idea. He was ecstatic. We made plans for everyone to come over next weekend on a Sunday afternoon. We could all make momos (a labor intensive tibetan dumpling) together, eat, and then dance into the night. We said, "Bring 15 to 20 people. We'll provide the food." Not too surprising, by the time the next Sunday rolled around, there weren't 15 to 20 people in our house, there were upwards of 60 to 70. Word spread all around the church community in Mussoorie. So pretty much anyone under the age of 25 that attended a church in Mussoorie was in our house. We clearly weren't prepared for this, so we had to leave and get more food. We had buff (which is buffalo meat, since you can't get beef 'cause it's India) from a town down the mountain. Buff is actually unofficially illegal in Mussoorie itself. I was going to go get more chicken but then someone said they knew where to get buff in Mussoorie. I said ok, knowing it would probably be good knowledge to have. Anyways, we went down to the market on his scooter and parked it. There was a small stairwell between two store fronts that we descended down. The sun was setting, making the whole scene even more sinister. We were in tight residential area, smashed behind the market. The paths were so narrow and the buildings so narrow, that the only light came from haphazardly strung up lanterns every 100 feet. We were walking around and around in places that seemed almost completely indistinguishable when suddenly he stopped and knocked on a door. It was just a house. A man opened the door. They both exchanged Hindi greetings and we walked in. It was just a man's living room. We asked for 2 kg of buff. The man went behind a curtain and brought out a gigantic piece of meet that was easily as tall as he was. He threw it on the floor and started cutting it. You might think this is the moment I wanted to become a vegetarian. It wasn't. I actually thought it was really cool to see the physical meat and to see him physically cutting it. Anyways, we took our meat, paid the man and returned to the party heroes.
The party was a lot of fun. There were squads of people tackling different parts of the momo making process. Everyone was engaged and having fun. Eventually, after many hours, the momos were officially done cooking. We had made over 400 momos. There were two large buckets full of momos to show for it. The sheer amount of momos was absolutely overwhelming. Yet during the delicious gorging of momos that commenced, I noticed a small pot on our stove pot. I thought, "What is this? We have enough momos to feed a small village." I stepped out of line and walked over to see a pot of Maggi noodles (the equivalent of Ramen noodles here) boiling. I looked around trying to find the owner. Suddenly several individuals that had been invisible before stood out. They were standing in the corner talking amongst each other. They weren't hiding. They weren't sad. They had smiles on their faces. They were just the only people in the room that weren't eating momos. I knew some of them so I walked over and asked them what was going on. One of the simply responded, "We're all vegetarians." I was shocked. Then immediately, I was shocked that I was shocked. You may think it not very odd for an Indian to be a vegetarian. You'd be right most of the time. But it's very odd for an Indian Christian to be a vegarantian. I had never made that connection before I came here, but in 5 short months I associated Christian with meat eating. They each went around and told how they had come from Hindu families (that still remained largely Hindu) and how important diet was to their families. It may not have meant much to anyone else in the room, but to their families it meant a lot. Their families, like me, associated Christianity with eating meat, to the point where many people around India think that people convert to Christianity so that they can eat meat. All of a sudden, my chicken and buff momos weren't so appetizing.
It just dawned on me that diet is such an important issue all around India. People's lives revolve around it. People's lives are judged by the choices they make in this circle. I can understand how this can be important, but it's not. Diet is not something of eternal significance, at least not anymore. That's something that Christianity teaches us. Yet not everyone else feels this way. For me it all suddenly became clear. The best way to fight this notion isn't to do whatever I want, because it means nothing to me, but to respect other people's beliefs since I know it will mean something to them. That's why I decided to become a vegetarian, because I'm venturing to show people that Christianity isn't about meat but about Christ.
The statistics are also helpful.
I like this :)
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