Can You Hear Me Now

I just hope Americans come to understand that food isn’t something to be manipulated by our teeth and shoved down our gullet, that it’s our spiritual and physical nourishment and important to our well-being as a nation.

Alice Waters

When I was just a lad of 10 or 11, my mother required an operation followed by a week of bed rest. Since I grew up in a very typical 1960s household, Dad went off to a job while Mom stayed home to do the cooking. This meant that during her recovery period, someone had to step up and prepare dinners for our very hungry family of eight. Despite having two older brothers, that person turned out to be me.

It’s not that I had any cooking skills of my own. Pouring cereal and milk into a bowl tested the limits of my knowledge. However, I was an inquisitive child and immediately volunteered to learn the magic that Mom performed in the kitchen. Getting out of doing the dishes might have also been on the agenda, but let’s not think about that right now.

After a few days of Mom jotting down recipes and providing some basic culinary lessons, I was ready to put on my chef’s hat and wow the family with my newfound talent. Granted, the dinners were simple, but we weren’t fancy people and as long as the food was reasonably edible, everyone left the table well fed.

This was the start of a lifelong passion of preparing good food for the important people in my life. In fact, for the past several decades, the home kitchen has been my domain. Although Linda can cook, she was more than happy to let me take the reins in both menu design and meal creation. Thankfully, she enjoys what I come up with — as long as it’s not too spicy.

This brings me to today.

More than once I’ve written about how the onset of retirement directed me to explore ways to expand my life. This led to building a strong community of friends and pursuing purpose beyond a career. It also led me to the kitchen of the church I rejoined at the beginning of the year.

Every week, Unity Church-Unitarian hosts what we call Wellspring Wednesday. It’s an evening where the congregation gathers for friendship, speakers, music, games, and most importantly to me, food. As soon as I learned of it, I asked, “How can I help?”

As with most volunteer opportunities in life, help is always needed and I was welcomed with open and grateful arms. I am now part of a small, but dedicated group of people who help feed the folks who show up every week. We wash our hands, put on our aprons, and get to work.

This has been a joyous, and dare I say it, spiritual endeavor for me. Not only am I able to connect with the meals we prepare and the people I prepare them with, I have become a part of something much bigger than simply filling hungry bellies.

Call it cliche, but we cook with love and an attention to need. Not only do we prepare tasty meals, we are cognisant of folk’s dietary needs and ensure that vegetarians, vegans, and the gluten intolerant are all accounted for. We also make an effort to buy locally grown produce and use organic ingredients whenever possible. We are good to the earth while we are being good to the congregation.

Rosary Beads

I take great satisfaction from peeling a butternut squash and chopping zucchini. Standing before my cutting board, I am aware of how these gifts of nature came to me. I am thankful for the seeds that sprouted, the soil, sun, and rain that nourished the growing plants, the hands that picked them, and the trucks that brought them to our kitchen. Everything is connected to something much bigger, and while my role in meal preparation is small, it’s honest and it’s worthwhile.

Hoping to not sound too pompous, the kitchen is my sanctuary and my knives are like rosary beads. Chopping vegetables is a form of meditation where every stroke of the knife is done with care and mindfulness. I begin with something untamed and raw, and craft it into nourishment for the body and soul. All the while bearing witness to the simple yet joyful repetition of slicing and dicing.

In a traditional Zen monastery, the position of tenzo, or head cook, is held by a monk who is considered to have an aspiration for enlightenment. The tenzo is thought to have a “way-seeking mind” and meals are reverential offerings.

While my path towards enlightenment has been (and still is) anything but a straight line, I can relate to that. Shortcomings and all, I strive to cook with a reverence to a power greater than me. I envision the grace and perfection of a well-crafted meal even when I fall short of my expectations — which is often. The doing, and not the achieving, is the reward.

Each step leads to another step
a path in an endless series of paths
one after the other
overlapping
intertwined

Like a string of rosary beads
each bead is held briefly
before turning to the next
until we return to the place
from which we began

Only to begin again

In Times of Great Need

At Unity Church-Unitarian, we are a liberal congregation that has no shared creed. Quoting from Unitarian literature:

In Unitarian Universalism, you can bring your whole self: your full identity, your questioning mind, your expansive heart.

Together, we create a force more powerful than one person or one belief system. Unitarian Universalists do not have to let go of personal experiences, practices, or beliefs to be part of this community. We join together on a journey that honors all our individual backgrounds and experiences.

Given the above, it’s no surprise that most, if not all, of my fellow Unity congregants were overwhelmed with grief when Kamala Harris lost her historic presidential bid. The former president stands for much of what we abhor, and we fear for the future of our country when he regains power. Four years of his chaos and right-wing radicalism will set the country back decades. Our hard work has become that much harder.

Since last week’s Wellspring Wednesday immediately followed election day, our weekly gathering became a beacon for those seeking comfort. This caused the number of attendants to soar from its typical 80 people to nearly 200. Since table space was limited, we expanded into rooms beyond the parish hall and ate in shifts — those who finished made room for someone who had not. Like Jesus with his loaves and fishes, no one was forgotten.

Like everyone there, I was hurting (I am still hurting), but at least I was not hurting alone. As we ate the meal I helped prepare, I shared in the strengths, fears, determination, anger, helplessness, optimism, and love that filled the room. We fed our aching hearts as much as we fed our bodies.

Following our shared meal, folks kicked in to put away tables and chairs, clean up the mess, and do the dishes. This too was a healing communal experience.

Looking Behind in Order to Look Ahead

In 1853, Unitarian minister Theodore Parker wrote, “Look at the facts of the world. You see a continual and progressive triumph of the right. I do not pretend to understand the moral universe, the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.”

Despite this latest setback, I believe in Reverend Parker’s words and hold them close to my heart. The work I had before the election is the same work I have today, and these new roadblocks do not weaken my resolve to move forward.

I cannot see the end of this journey, but I know the way. I also know that I will not be alone. There are too many who feel as I do and we’ve come too far to give up now.

We can do better. We will do better. We shall overcome and when we do, I plan on being there to help prepare the celebration meal.

Thank you for reading.

Love letters written on recipe cards
wants, needs, obsessions, desires
a little of this, just enough of that

From heart to hand
the precise instructions for longing and laughter
delight and renewal

Serving size the world