Books to eat

Reading as I was, important I would not miss to be and, the show was on stage every time an audience seemed to form. Big words I pronounced slowly, gluing each syllable in each ear available to make sure they would learn how great I was about to turn as books were turning in.
Mom was not convinced a bit. One day, when I tried to complicate the simplest meaning of life, embroidering them with golden filigrees of dictionary rare words, my mother asked me the definitive questions. “Is it eatable? Does it smell good? Does it beautify the world?” She wanted to know about my thoughts and fancy words.
Since then, this is the rule I use to measure theology, philosophy and speech. Can it be eaten?!
I think Jesus would agree with my mother. When it came to the point when everyone around him expected a profound exposure of his message he washed peoples feet, broke bread and shared wine: “This is my body!”