Why The Bear's "Forks" is a Perfect Piece of Television

And cracks open the thin place between heaven and earth

I have thought about The Bear’s “Forks” every day since I watched it. 

You’re rolling your eyes right now. That’s an exaggeration, you’re thinking. You’ve thought about one episode of one TV show every day for almost a year? Aren’t you supposed to be some big reader? And don’t you spend all your time taking care of a toddler? 

First of all, rude. Second of all, “I’m not like this because I’m in Van Halen; I’m in Van Halen because I’m like this.”

Third of all, the gospel is all over it. 

Let’s get some backstory here. The Bear follows Carmy, a young, immensely talented chef, as he tries to revive his family’s Chicago sandwich shop after his brother dies by suicide. It’s intense. The first season leaves you capital S Stressed. 

And you also fall in love with the restaurant’s staff of perfect screw-ups. 

Richie (left), polishing forks, changing my life.

The most screwed-up screw-up is Richie Jerimovich, often called Cousin by the other characters. I couldn’t stand Richie for the first season. He’s lazy, he’s harsh, he’s stuck in how the restaurant used to do things. In other words: He’s human.

But despite his often crappy way of showing it, when the second season starts, you can see that Richie wants to change. He’s searching for something more. Once again: He’s human.

So, in “Forks,” Carmy calls in a favor with the chef at a three Michelin star joint. (It’s based on Ever in Chicago, which, sadly, only has two stars in real life.) Richie will intern there for a week, learning everything he can at the best restaurant in the world. 

And he’ll start by polishing forks. Thousands and thousands of forks.

He’s been given a gift. But it doesn’t look like he expected. So he slips back into his old habits and starts complaining.

But then he sits in on a meeting before dinner. The staff are being briefed on two guests who will eat there that night, high school teachers who have been saving up for the visit. The staff is planning multiple “give ‘em the pickle” surprises for the couple: caviar, champagne, a tour of the kitchen, and – best of all – a completely free meal. 

It’s unusually generous. And it flips Richie’s entire outlook on life. 

Esquire’s Kevin Sintumuang phrased it like this: “That act of giving joy changes him.”

And this, to me, is the gospel. 

I am a screwed-up screw-up. I’m short with my husband. I get frustrated with my kid. I’m ungrateful for my charmed life, prideful about what I think I’m good at. I’m lazy, I’m harsh, I’m stuck in how I used to do things. (Sound familiar?) I’m human.

But Jesus loves me anyway. God gave me the gift of salvation anyway. It’s unusually generous. And when I remember that, it makes me want to get a pizza from Pequod’s and cut some f-ing micro basil. 

This episode has popped into my head every time I encounter a particularly surly customer service worker. It has tapped on my shoulder when I’m tempted to be rude to someone who isn’t doing what I want. It gives me — in a nontraditional usage of the phrase — a regular come to Jesus moment.

I’ve had a few thin place experiences in my life, where I felt the barrier between heaven and earth open a little. But “Forks” is perhaps the most impactful one. It displays what happens when a very real person commits to the idea of serving others before they serve themselves. It’s something that I can practice every day, whether I want to or not. 

As Fak would say: “That’s so sick.”

P.S.: Let me make one thing ABUNDANTLY clear. The use of Mike Krzyzewski as a leadership guru throughout this episode is disgusting and, frankly, borderline criminal. Also: this.