"The two biggest sellers in any bookstore are the cookbooks and the diet books. The cookbooks tell you how to prepare the food and the diet books tell you how not to eat any of it." So observed Sixty Minutes commentator Andy Rooney (quoted by Fred Lyon in "The Savior Life Diet," Lectionary Homiletics, August, 1997, p. 21). I made a trip to the discount bookstore this past week to see if Andy Rooney was right. I discovered he was at least partly right. There were lots and lots of cookbooks there. I stopped counting at 250 different titles – because at 250 I was only half-way through the cookbook section! And, that didn't count the bargain bins!

There was an astonishing array of topics and titles. I found cookbooks for Christmas. And, it's only August! I found Visible Vegetables, The Terrific Pacific Cookbook, Glorious Garlic, 50 Ways with Fish, 365 More Receipts for Chicken, Cooking for Dummies, Dad's Own Cookbook: Everything Your Mother Never Taught You, to name only a few. (It was interesting to me that Cooking for Dummies and Dad's Own Cookbook were really near each other on the bookshelves!)

The bookstore didn't have quite as many diet books. But, there was a fair number of titles, including The Weigh Down Diet, Controlling Your Fat Tooth, The Suzanne Sommers Eat Great Lose Weight diet book, and The Ten Habits of Naturally Slim People. (Not being among the "naturally slim" myself, I thought I'd have a look in this one to see what I might learn. I discovered habit number eight was: only eat when you're hungry. Why didn't I think of that?)

And, whether or not the bookstore had them in stock, we all know there are lots and lots of other diet books and diet plans. It reminds me of the refrigerator magnet I once saw. It read, "A waist is a terrible thing to mind!"

Now, there's nothing wrong with having a healthy concern for our bodies. It's admirable, really. The "body is a temple of the Holy Spirit" (1 Corinthians 6:19, RSV). But I wonder if this obsession with getting food into us, and then getting those unwanted pounds off of us, isn't perhaps symptomatic of something else.

We may pursue the material when what we really need is spiritual. The hunger that drives us to cookbooks and restaurants (and then, to diet clubs or health clubs), the emptiness we try to pack with possessions, the way we may try to fill ourselves up with more recognition, more titles, more awards, more experiences; could these not be our spiritual emptiness crying out for God?