There are very few things guaranteed to us in this life. Among these promises, two remain to be undeniable: We all must eat, and one day, we will die. Sure, this may be true, but why does this matter, and what do they have to do with one another? 

Simply put, they both have a time-honored practice: ritual.

A ritual is not merely repetition for repetition’s sake. It is an act endowed with meaning and intention. Rituals ask us to take a minute, to acknowledge the moment we are in and to note it as worthy of care. It connects us not only to one another, but to our ancestors and those who will follow. 

At every monumental moment of life, food is there. From birthdays to funerals, food exists as the physical manifestation of our humanity. From providing comfort and sustenance, food’s defining purpose is being the great connector. Food behaves as an emotional actor and allows us to imbue it with ritualistic meaning. 

Food becomes the language we turn to when words fail us. It crosses borders more easily than speech, carrying memories across generations.

In moments of grief, it feeds our souls when we lack the strength to provide for ourselves in other ways. In the absence of words of consolation, food speaks volumes in ways we often can not. In moments of joy, it allows us to celebrate as a unitary collective. Undeniably, food is one of the few gifts given to us as a universal expression of sentiment. 

I believe that more often than not, we take food for granted. Think about the last time you sat down for a meal with the sole intention of savoring each bite of it. If you are one of my collegiate peers, this may have been a long time ago. We often find ourselves trying to grab a quick bite between class or ordering whatever is most convenient. Let us reintroduce intention. 

We mustn’t treat food as fuel alone; in doing so, we risk stripping it of its emotional and cultural significance. Meals become transactions rather than experiences, a task to be completed as opposed to a moment to be shared. 

Rituals surrounding food can vary significantly from individual to individual. Some may indulge in a traditional tea ceremony while others partake in religious customs surrounding food and drink. What unites them is intention. 

For me, the most important food ritual revolves around the Christmas season. Christmas is the time of year to rejoice in the company of those you hold dearest to you, and through the medium of food, we express our gratitude for one another. For Latinos like myself, the tradition of making tamales is a key feature of this joyful season. 

Aromas of red salsa with pork and rajas con queso fill my kitchen with an unparalleled comfort. To this day, we often host this festivity of food at my house. Our enormous dark, wooden table that we bought from a monastery acts as the place where we smear the masa into the corn husks and delicately wrap each tamale. 

As a reward for our labor, we would indulge in a few tamales at the end of the night. The rest of these precious pouches of flavor were reserved for the big party on Christmas Eve, also known as Noche Buena. The delicious ritual honors my Mexican heritage while preserving the traditions that have brought people together for centuries. 

Embracing these rituals and traditions that have existed for millennia is the evident antidote to our rapidly changing times. Amidst uncertainty, returning to the simplicity of a weekly Sunday dinner shared with friends and family may be the answer to fostering peace and stability again. 

In my articles, I often propose getting together as the cure-all solution to the current state of the world. Allow me to clarify something: When I promote the idea of getting together, establishing a ritual and hosting events, I am not suggesting a grand thing. While it is fabulous to host elaborate gatherings, I am well aware that this is often not a tangible option. Ritual does not require perfection.

Rather, make little things special. Invite friends to sit on your couch and try that new pasta recipe that you’ve been dying to make. Make the time to get a specialty coffee at that neighborhood cafe. Whether the duration of the event is 30 minutes or what feels like 30 hours, it is the action of creating community that counts. 

In honoring food with intention, we honor one another. When partaking in these sacred rituals, we reclaim a vital piece of what it means to be human. 

Paulina da Silva is a junior writing about cuisine, culture and community in her column, “Pauli’s Slice,” which runs every other Wednesday.