Expanding Imagination

In the midst of today's baking I spilled yeast every where.  The first thing I thought was "I just sent life flying across my kitchen counter."  Yeast is alive and that really amazes and intrigues me.  Yes, I get the whole microscopic life, thing.  Staring in amazement at these tiny lives through the simple high school microscopes was what made biology class bearable; but it still seems to stretch the imagination to think of life on that tiny level when viewing from either microscope, or spread across your kitchen floor.

In my absence from serving a congregation I've missed sharing in communion the very most; which means I've been thinking about it often ... very often!  It is this same microscopic stretch of life with yeast that applies to bread, and the sharing of communion.  Christians everywhere, no matter what they call it, how or when they celebrate it, they recognize communion spreads life.  In her reflections on communion, writer Sara Miles asks a life long question in take this bread:


"What makes the bread into the body of Christ?  What makes words more than words, mortal flesh more than mortal flesh; what makes a piece of toast into a sacrament?"  page 271


In divinity school we spent time trying to analyze questions such as this.  I cherish combining the intellectual and spiritual - it's what feeds my faith and keeps it alive.  It's what's feeding me right now, but I often wonder if the bridge between these two is a living imagination?  The science behind active living yeast is sound, yet even with the help of tools you still need to imagine this life.  The faith behind God's abundant table is sound, yet it takes your imagination to see how this can apply to all living things ... no matter how small or insignificant they may seem.

I get to spend time with one of those little lives.  A few days a week I care for a 3 year old little boy; and beyond exploring the abundance of museums in DC, this little guy makes me explore my own world in a whole new way.  A few weeks ago over lunch, as I ate my potato kale soup, and he his "Cars" themed Campbell's chicken noodle soup, he happily remarked "hey, we're eating the same thing!"

I said "Yes, we're both eating soup, but mine has potatoes in it."

Knowing his favorite character from the movie "Cars" was 'Mater, the rough and lovable tow truck, he responded "yeah, mine just has 'Maters."

I chuckled, but was also struck by his ernest response.  These were not noodles in the shape of 'Mater, they were genuinely 'Mater for this little boy.  There was no need to ask questions, or think too deeply about it.  The shape of these noodles was enough for this kid to recall the joy 'Mater brings to his life; very similar to the way a simple loaf of bread and shared cup is enough for us to recall the abundant life that God gives to us.  Asking questions, and having faith are necessary, but when you bridge the two with this kind of imagination, that noodles evoke joy and bread instills life, then the table leaps beyond the sanctuary and the invitation to be served transforms us to serve.

This life that is shared seems to dwell on a microscopic level, we can't always see it.   But when this life is shared and lived in this way it seems to expand, leaving traces of love everywhere.  Continuing her reflection, Sara Miles claims that faith and "Christianity wasn't an argument I could win, or even resolve.  It wasn't a thesis.  It was a mystery that I was finally willing to swallow.  I was loved by a big love."  "take this bread" page 274

We are loved by this big love.  This living yeast yields a big loaf. 

Rather than argue how to do it, when to do it, why we do it, perhaps we just need to happily receive the bread, the life we've been given, so we might share it with others.  It might seem like a tiny thing, but just think how quickly it spreads!

Now that's a life to imagine! 

Knowing I was writing on communion ... yet not fully knowing what I was going to say, I chose this Nutty 5-grain Italian bread for today's kneading reflection.  It's just like communion, wholesome, rich, and a little bit nutty. :)

Edges of living

“We’re always on the edge of something.” 

My colleague’s statement sounded in my ear as I rang my bell, alerting road hogging drivers of my presence, and peddling furiously to my next meeting.  I was having one of those jam-packed days where the edge of one meeting not only overlaps, but also cuts a huge chunk into the next meeting.  Barely able to catch my breath I throw on my helmet, hop onto Bianca (that’s my bike), and head off (already late) for the next meeting.

When I lived in a city where a car was my primary means of arriving late to things, I could make up some time.  Now, the occasional speeding ticket slowed down that day’s particular meeting spectacular, but that was not enough to deter me from thinking most days my car was a portal to make up time, and get me to my next meeting in the acceptable 10-15 minutes late.  I’ve now changed my 4 wheels to two (hooray biking), but my schedule planning (and belief in portals for that matter) has not.  Before with the car, these sorts of schedules would make me a little frazzled and delayed in thinking and meeting participation; on the bike however, it just makes me a frayed, sweaty mess gasping for breath and thought.

Meetings become Charlie Brown-esque encounters where I see mouths moving; hear “wonk, wonk, wonk,” as I contemplate the timing of my next move.  Basically I’m a crappy conversationalist and a frayed mess.   I always seem to be on the edge of finishing something, as another thing has already begun.  In our multi-tasking world we’re always on the cusp of completing not just 1, but 2, 3, 4 things at once. 

How do we ever finish one thing when there’s always something new to discover or do?  We’re expert do-ers, but does this doing strip us of the satisfaction of seeing a task to completion and simply being in the moment? 

Do we need a “The End” every now and then to fully enjoy the moment of life that just occurred?

In an effort to think through our own over-worked edginess today I’m making biscotti, rather than bread.  Bread, with it’s thin toasted crust and soft center might be what we hope to become in life, but in our over-achieving schedules I think we more often resemble the thorough crispiness of a biscotti cookie.

Biscotti

1 1/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour                        ¼ teaspoon salt

½ cup whole-wheat flour                                                1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder                                                2 eggs                                   

4 tablespoons unsalted butter (softened)                        ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon teaspoon almond extract                        ½ cup almonds (toasted)

½ cup dried cherries

1.     1. Preheat over to 350                        2.  Whisk flours, baking powder & salt together 

           3. Beat together sugar & butter in electric mixer, until creamy (3-6 min) 

                                a. Add in 1 egg at a time            b. Beat in extracts

4.     4. Reduce speed and slowly mix in flours.   5. Add almonds and cherries

      Shape dough into 2 13”x2” loaves on a baking sheeting, 3” apart.  Bake for 35 minutes or until golden brown and just beginning to crack.  Rotate baking sheet half way through.

6.     Allow loaves to cool on baking sheet rack (10 minutes), while turning oven to 325

7.     Cut diagonal ½ inch thickness.  Lay slices ½ inch apart.  Flip half-way through backing until golden brown on both sides (15-20 min).

Whether it’s the ending of a meeting or a relationship goodbye, I think we hop over our edges with new beginnings because they rumble the fear that if we stop we might become unproductive, obsolete, or fall into that dreaded word…settling.  Beginnings are those rare moments of basking in the greenness of other pastures; but eventually that newness wears off, so we venture out for bluer skies and newer moments. As more conversations, opportunities, and tasks come my way, the edges of projects begin to rub against one another.  My own edges become bristly, and I’m only able to share crisp remarks rather than good ideas.

The juggling of a few things usually allows creativity to flow into a variety of tasks but with the overload we focus on the end, and no longer enjoy the opportunity before us.  We become engrossed in doing the task, rather than being a part of something bigger than just us.  There is a sweet, small joy in the full cycle of a project, just as there is beauty in hitting the “pause” button, when “the end” is still a ways off.  Taking a deep breath, stepping back, and viewing what’s before us is a gift.  It’s seeing “the moment,” rather than only focusing on “the end.”

As I peddled, my colleague’s statement stirred up my many unfinished edges, but it also made me think of how much I like edges and endings.  This poem came to mind and I find it fitting to share over a cup of tea and a freshly baked biscotti.

Crispy Edges

I like crispy edges;

places where the tender

center finds its own shape,

and can rest on its own.

The edges of stories

usually reveal unspoken truths,

and the edges of cookies

unforeseen treats.

The edges of trips

Hold moment of goodbyes

…

as well as hellos.

I like the crisp edges,

though there are

rarely clean endings in life,

nor clear boundaries.

I like edges, nevertheless.

For edges are where we live life.

The edge between breathing out,

and breathing in

holds a crispness of life

waiting to live again, and again.

We’re like these cookies.  Sweet, a little crispy, but when shared with a cup of coffee in a pause, or end, we all soften a little.  Vowing for better time management, or saying “no,” are ways to address our overworked edges, but as we peddle along in those endeavors, I hope you can pause for a sweet softening “cookie” break every now and then, and just be on the edge of living.

New Math: 2 part series - the feast continues!

Part 2: Adding Free-Range Feasting


Today's bread is Buckwheat Molasses.  I can't help but feel like buckwheat has a little cowgirl kick, with a deep molasses sweet to smooth out the rough edges.  The yeast literally gave a giddy-up when mixed with the molasses and I hope these musings sprinkle a little skip in your step ... at least spiritually speaking.

We have a mission, if you choose to accept it.  

Bake bread yes, but there's more....

Is that a yes?

Ok, so our goal is to add a little generosity into our day, our lives, and hopefully our world.  There are few rules, really only rules to break in this mission.

This idea sparked for me while sharing a meal with friends.  I'm a huge food sharer; so much so that I sometimes have to remind myself that new folks don't necessarily enjoy me shoving a fork full of my food in their face exclaiming "this is delicious, you HAVE to try it."  It also works in reverse - I often find my fork creeping over to other's plates just wanting a little taste of their yummy dish.  The looks of judgement are usually enough to plateside my fork.  Apparently these are not common manners.

But what if they were?

At this dinner we shared a bottle of wine, conversation, and I noticed, freely roving forks.  It was free-range dining with full respect of other's plate space, with a mutual invitation to share your own.  The art of food sharing is not to consume everything, but rather to have a little taste of what surrounds you while respecting that not everything belongs to you.  In this sense you don't feel deprived or gorge yourself, yet you have a full symphony of flavors.  It's an abundant table, shared in proportion that is satisfying.  The etiquette rules of "pass the serving plate" are thrown out the window and forks go wild!  It's a civilized feasting wilderness and all are as happy as a well fed kitten, licking our paws and purring in delight.

We do in fact live in this world and we sit at this sharing table - we only have to live by these "new rules."  We know there is enough food, love, and friendship for everyone, if we respectfully recklessly share.  We boldly break these rules because we delight in this type of sharing, and we know in our cores Christ did too!  He may not be the first meal time rule breaker, but he certainly connected the apron strings of food and faith in a way that was abundant generosity, and some really good eats!  He sat at our feasting table with folks who hadn't had meal time conversation in ages.  Sharing a plate with people who had dirty fingernails was only the beginning of his party lineup.  He was a show-er, rather than a teller, and he showed us that the table is everywhere, everyone is invited (even those law makers and rule breakers that make us uncomfortable), and when you share, there's enough to eat, and you get to try some really amazing things!  You also hear fabulous stories.  You also discover deep relationships, with others, with yourself, with God.

Christians are deep in the throws of Lent, a holy season commonly referred to as the "giving up" time.  Now, I'm not mocking the ways giving up candy can be a spiritual discipline (that would be a HUGE discipline for me); but as Jesus showed, sharing isn't a sacrifice.  Giving isn't about losing things, but rising as a collective loaf of good bread.  We can only share with others, and we can only rise to our greatest potential by working together.  This holy season is typically not filled with feasting tables and free-range sharing, but rather a sense of deprivation and spirits as dry and dead as the ashes we spread across our foreheads on Ash Wednesday.  When asked to sacrifice, we inherently grab for "mine."  When asked to give, we secretly hoard - which I think is missing the point of the ashes and Lent.  This type of logic pits us against one another, squabbling for a seat at the table, rather than passing the bread basket.

So, what if we subtract sacrifice (as Christ did), and add generosity to the mix?

Lent - Sacrifice + Generosity = Joyful feasting for all!

In a season of inner reflection and deep prayer, try replacing sacrifice with share.  

 God calls us to  sacrifice share

Sharing sweeps sacrifice off the table.  With a cleared setting, and new dining rules, we together cook up a new creation! You now get to invite others to this feast, as well as enjoying it yourself.  Like sharing our plates, when we share a moment with others, we get a small taste of something new and different.  When respecting the plate of others, while freely sharing you own, you discover a feast of deepening connection with all things holy - food, friends, fields, & faith.  Yes, you sometimes end up with something spilled down your shirt ... this type of living is messy; but it's also delicious!  As ashes remind us we're all comprised of the same "stuff," generosity reminds us that this stuff is good.  We are good, the world is good, and it's all meant to be shared in free-range friendships.

Operation Generosity:  Our mission is to implement these new "rules" at our world table.  It begins with you.  Try adding generosity in your prayers, your thoughts, and see if anything happens.  I know you all are already very generous people, so I wonder if we might be generous to our spirit and see how God's sharing can nourish us.  And then as that yeasty spirit rises in us, expand that table and share with someone else.  How can you see a new person "sitting" beside you & how can others "feed" you?

I want to hear about your experiments.  I'm sharing this bread when I visit friends, but what are your ideas?  Post your sharings so we all can feast alongside you. 

New Math: 2 part series = feast for thought

Part 1: Substitute Subtractions

So friends, you spoke and I listened. The first person to offer a suggestion for the coming blogs was how to use substitutions in recipes; such as when to use yogurt instead of butter or applesauce instead of eggs. This seemed like a fun opportunity to prove my crappy math skills can work in a theological kitchen! Let's crunch some numbers and bake some bread! Today's recipe features substitutions, the blog suggests subtractions, and the whole thing creates wholesome bread at our table.

It might look a little like this:

substitutions - sacrifice = expansion for all!

If you have ever cooked with me you know that I'm constantly substituting ingredients and adding (next week's theme) things to every recipe. This usually means my calzones end up looking like a snake who just ate an ostrich egg, or scones that are the love child of a gummy bear and baked good. The latter was last weeks flop at substituting. We spent the weekend at Ecumenical Advocacy Days: What's Gender Got To Do With It? and I thought a quick scone on the way out the door would save us precious sleep minutes.

Good thought; poor execution :(

The recipe read as a jumping off point to add in your favorite ingredients like dried fruit and nuts. I love both, but Jordan isn't a fan; so being a good girlfriend I tried to find equal ground and substituted the dry add-ins with defrosted and drained strawberries (in my defense I drained the heck out of those puppies!). Rather than a flaky, fluffy, or delicious scone I ended up with gummy insides, dry outsides and well, the bi-product of gummy candy and baked goods. Both things I love, but should just join the ranks of drinking and hair-clippers on the list of bad combinations! It seems you need to know a little something about baking components before you start messing around ... such as too much liquid makes flour pasty ... so I should have learned that in pre-K. :(

Like a good bread, this idea of substitutions needed some time to rest so it could rise to fullness, and this weekends conference proved to be the expanding table for this edition. The conference focused on the role gender plays in creating global peace and justice. Turns out the the Federal Budget has a whole lot of gendered politics involved, and sadly we're living out more of our patriarchal past than feminist future.

When talking about the budget you can get caught up in the scary ingredients (such as the suggested House budget cuts would eliminate head start funding for 8,000 children in Virginia alone, or eliminate 180,000 students access to college scholarships through Pell Grant limitations. Most of these households affected by these cuts are headed by single mothers.). The blanket statistic use can be as befuddling and mystifying as baking terms: "fold in dry ingredients," "cut in the butter," "degas or don't degas the dough," the defense budget is "off the table," and the "our foreign assistance is out of control."

Well folding and cutting in baking terms are easily figured out by a google search, and the debunking of these false federal fiduciary statements can be uncovered by our good friends at the UCC Justice and Witness Ministries. They break down the budget cut affects on those sitting at the far end of our community table, uncover the ways the top 1% (the sole person sitting at the head of the table) continues to feast while most are left squabbling under the table for any crumbs. To put it back into baking terms, the way our budget is currently structured hoards all the wholesome tasty ingredients into one slice of bread, leaving the over processed, gummy, dry, crusty parts for the rest.

Who wants to eat that bread?

I don't

I don't think you do either

So how can the bread at OUR table feed everyone?

We're talking economics, which is cooked up from the greek work oikomene, which means care for the household. Tending to the budget is tending to our home, and what's more homey than baking bread? So right now our federal budget recipe comprises of 3 main ingredients:

1. Tax law - Long term affects and no annual review
2. Entitlements - this just means those things we're entitled to, such as social security, medicare, medicaid, etc.
3. Annual Appropriations - now this is the biggie and the one where we're spending most of our time fighting. This is where our military budget is, as well as all those assistance programs (WIC, SNAP,Child Care Assistance, Head Start). This is also where the discretionary funds are found. If you scoop out the military spending from this 1/3 of our budget, you're left with 12% ... of a 1/3 of our entire budget ... from which we're trying to balance the ENTIRE budget. This just doesn't seem like good math. And when I asked this weekend why nothing else is being subtracted or cut, no one had an answer. Their best guess was the military budget has historically never been on the budget cut table.

Basically this last step is where we're trying to find all our subtractions without touching anything else and the top 1% can continue to feast while the rest well ... it's just crumby.

The short of it all is we're trying to balance the budget by seriously subtracting the 12% left in that third step. This 12% is what's left over when we ignore the heaping dishes of military spending sitting on our table; and if you seem to think that 12% can feed the remaining 99% of us, well then federal household caretakers (ie Congressional Budget Committees) I think you're the one that's really bad at math ... not me.

I'm one who believes that we're all called to God's table. We're not only lovingly called by our name, but when we get there, there is more than enough ... if we share. And well, we can't eat a gun, or feast on a tank ... perhaps a tank of ice cream, but I digress (is that like degas ... a little baking humor ;). I suggest that we bring this idea into the federal budget conversation because it matters to all of us. There are some economists who suggest that we're all out there for ourselves, but I think this is foolish. Our own home budgets are affected when the cost of gas and milk skyrockets, so why wouldn't our federal budget affect everyone when we spend more on bomb rockets (and no I'm not talking about the delicious tri-colored popsicles) than on supporting parents getting to work and getting their children into safe affordable childcare?

When you're balancing your own home budget, or figuring out your own recipe you have a few tools to help you figure out what to cut; but more importantly, a discerning mind when asking how can I substitute so I don't have to fully sacrifice the things I want and need?

How can I keep the integrity of the whole, while making healthy substitutions?

You may choose to get ice cream as a special treat, rather than a dinner out. You may choose to cut half the butter, opting for the other half applesauce. You may choose cutting 5% of the military budget so preschoolers can have the early education we know they need and low-income high school graduates can have needed college scholarships. These are just suggestions; but they can only be made when we're looking at the whole product. You wouldn't bake delicious bread and then make it into a ham sandwich with SPAM. I don't think we want 99% of our dinner guests eating SPAM and the rest eating duck foie gras.

When making baking substitutions I suggest this website, and these questions:

1. Why do I want to substitute? Simply to know? For necessity? For health?

Today I made a delicious sunflower wheat bread. I didn't have butter milk, so I learned from the "to know link" that a little lemon juice and milk are a good substitute. The recipe didn't call for yeast; and though this bread sounded delicious, it also sounded a little dense. So I learned how to substitute quick rising yeast to make the bread a little lighter, and as this blog is running a little long I suggest you watch this to help make this budget conversation a little more airy.

So my friends, as there are a lot of things here, I ask you, what do you think we could substitute in our shared household budget, rather than asking folks to subtract much needed support?

I have a hunch we can find ways to substitute all these subtracting cuts so everyone can have a slice of bread at the table.

~peace

Rising and Writing

March 24, 2011

Riding my bike to the gym this morning I heard the bird song as I watched the sun rise. With cars whirring by me I was in a wonderland of this gentle mother nature moment. With every passing day I feel life is more like the wonderland of the rabbit hole, rather than the orderly depiction of sitcoms gone past. In this tumbling wonder I've followed my love of God and found myself in a wondrous calling of ministry, and into fantastical relationships with others. The latest of those relationships has brought me a great love, and a move from congregational ministry and into an undefined ministry. So as ministry and callings are done in relationship, I create this blog as a space for sharing, writing, and bread rising ...

That's right, I said bread rising. Ministry is the stuff of life, and what better place to discover how that stuff is to stick together than at the table over a freshly baked loaf of bread. Sifting, measuring, and let's get serious, spilling a lot of that on myself and the surrounding area, I'm finding bread baking is a lot like ministry. Most of us are nurtured, fed, and grow around a family table, a favorite aunt or neighbors side table, blankets creating a picnic table, or even the communion table. I've been blessed by sharing turkish coffee in Bosnia and having our fortunes read from the coffee grinds (one of those lucky fortune recipients is in the middle of making his come true), mangos and Fanta in Ghana, or slimy okra in Texas. Laughter and self discovery with friends in student housing over pizza or glasses of wine and homemade nosh with longtime friends feeds my spirit as much as a good sermon. To me, the laughter and conversation are the music to which ministry dances and the meal shared is food for our spirits. These are the greatest things in life, and you, are part of that greatness. So, this minister who doesn't have a congregation to pastor, seeks direction to the next step, recipe, and ministry with you.

I'll bake, post the recipe, share the product, and hopefully hear from you, as well.

So, let's bake!

Measure and sift, listening for God's call. Be bold! Throw it all in! For today's recipe I not only added walnuts, but I also added in my requests ... which brings us to the next step.

knead praying?/!

Knead and pray ... sometimes for the smallness of the daffodils, or delightfully pretty shoes. Sometimes knead out frustrations over friend's pain, or the suffering found in our world (most recently in Bahrain, Libya, & Japan to name only a few).

And then we let it rest ... to rise. We let the prayers and musings rise in us so it might create something impossible. The craft of baking still seems like magic to me. Baking powder amazes me and yeast astounds me! In order to rise to our fullest form, we need a tiny little life to kick that stuff of our lives into high gear. But I also like that resting is what makes this happen.

rising & resting

So resting is something I'm really not good at, but I'm learning. In order for bread to rise it needs to rest in a warm and draft-less, or safe place. For life this can be a little difficult to do at times, but thankfully there are nooks and safe spaces to nestle into in order to survey the world around you. In those moments you catch the birdsong rising of the sun (*amen*), or that yeasty kick in the pants to rise a little higher in your giftedness. Rising for me today brought a phone call from an old friend.

a little slice spread with ...

Sooner than you'd expect the impossible has happened on your very own table, and you had a floury hand in it. Enjoy that slice of warm bread, but also what arose for you during the process?

My plan is to share the bounty from my oven with others. Just you wait, you might get a little package in the mail. But, I also ask for your response. Where did you catch a glimpse of rising life? Was is the giggle you got when you saw that little kid pick his nose when he thought no one was looking? Was it the realization that your dog understands more than you really think? What are you spreading around today?