Lenten Food

In case you wondered if all I think about are babies, specifically the one I happen to be gestating, and the church...

I also think about food.

Now, I really do enjoy cooking. I find it to be a calming discipline and at this point in my life I find that I can usually figure out what something is "missing" and rectify the situation.

Occasionally, the something that is missing is bacon...which we don't have at our house.

I have managed to build quite the mystery about what I will, and won't, eat amongst my friends and parishioners. A Lenten discipline of veganism last year (shortly after I began at my parish) really threw everyone for a loop. And, folks don't quite understand why we'll eat meat that other folk have prepared but won't cook meat at home.

I figure, that if folks are kind enough to cook it for me than I will be kind enough to eat it. (Oh, and lest I be anything but honest, we do get meat when we eat out occasionally and, for some odd reason, one of the THREE foods I could stomach during my first trimester was deli turkey) That, and people rarely cook beef for company anymore (I haven't had beef in so long that it would make me sick, and I love you, but I hate diarrhea).

So, back to what we cook at home, or don't cook in our case. Our objections to the regular consumption of meat has a great deal to do with the ethics of meat production and the amount of edible (by humans) grain used to produce meat (I think it's something like 8 pounds of grain for 1 pound of beef). Not to mention the water resources diverted for livestock propagation; coupled with an awareness that if everyone on the planet ate (drove, built, bought) like Americans this world would be in for a great deal more hurt. Oh, and to be honest, neither of us likes: gristle; meat on the bone; or those bloody veins that occasionally appear in your chicken breast; and I am afraid of poisoning us because I never learned how to cook meat (those formative cooking years of strict vegetarianism). Tofu is all one color and consistency and you don't have to worry about biting into a gross bit of cartilage hidden behind breading.

So, tofu...Tofu, beans, cheese and yogurt (yes, yes, I know that these come from cows and that these cows eat edible, by humans, grain and drink lots of water) make up our dominant protein sources. But, you'd be surprised at how much protein is in whole grain products (which we eat VAST quantities of) and even some veggies. Why do I know this you might ask? Well, for a week our birth class required a food diary to specifically count the grams of protein consumed each day (with a goal during pregnancy of 70-80 grams). My beloved and I were each getting over a 100 (!) grams of protein a day--without eating meat.

This brings me back to Lent (okay, so I said I think of other things besides my faith)...giving up meat on Fridays is not a hardship in our household--largely because we so rarely eat meat. And, I don't think it's a hardship for most folks...

What if we all ate meat only on Fridays (or pick one other day)? Perhaps, using meat like most of the world does--as a condiment. Methinks we'd all be a bit healthier--and so would the planet! And, our food might taste a bit better because we couldn't fall back on meat, veg and starch as a standard meal.

That said, I'm off to the grocery store...family will be in town this weekend and I have to feed my omnivorous relations food that we'll all enjoy. Bring on the homemade macaroni and cheese (I hate to think what would happen if we tried to get them to eat Indian lentils with sweet potatoes!)!

Ruminating on the Prodigal, Lent 4C

"'Warren,' she said, 'he has come home to die:
You needn't be afraid he'll leave you this time.'
'Home,' he mocked gently. 'Yes, what else but home?

It all depends on what you mean by home.
Of course he's nothing to us, any more then was the hound that came a stranger to us
Out of the woods, worn out upon the trail.'

'Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.'

'I should have called it
Something you somehow haven't to deserve.'"

excerpt from Death of the Hired Man, by Robert Frost

This leaves me with a question...

Would I have taken him in?

The Saddest Funny Book I've Ever Read

A couple of months ago I decided that the 4th-6th grade book club I lead would pick their own book for the month of February. Terming it "funny February" I solicited suggestions for a humourous book for the month. One of the kids, a 5th grader, suggested the book "I Am a Genius of Unspeakable Evil and I Want to Be Your Class President", by Josh Lieb. Declaring it the "funniest book he'd ever read" he is already re-reading it in anticipation of book club.

So, today. Today, I picked up the book and started reading it--and rather than finding it to be funny I am finding it to be a book that reflects, most accurately, some painful realities: the cruelty young people can have for each other; the pain that those who do not fit the norm experience; and the fantasies of a hurting young boy made manifest on the page. Granted, I am only on chapter 8, but as I read I remember the pain of late elementary and middle school where I felt a degree of alienation that left me in tears on a regular basis. I went through my day feeling out of sync with my peers and filled with the vague sense that I was being laughed at--yet didn't know why.

Back to the book...

Oliver Watson is a self described "evil genius" whose machinations are cleverly hidden behind the mask of stupidity he has intentionally chosen to don. A chubby kid who is literally the laughing stock of his peers--so seemingly dim witted that even the teachers at school scorn and pity him--he has created a world of his own in which he reigns supreme with every wish granted, and every bully punished. The tone is snarky and dark--and Oliver's alienation more than tragic. The humor comes from the revenge he extracts and the contempt with which he holds all those around him.

Rich fodder for young people who dream of revenge...and are longing for the kind of unconditional love that only Oliver's mother and dog offer.

It reminds me most deeply of my experience in mid-elementary school. Usually alone on the playground at recess I smarted from being excluded and different. The relentless teasing of my class mates didn't end when I went home--to siblings who were all to eager to point out the hint of a lisp I still carried and to call my solid build "fat". I desperately wanted to get back at them for their cruelty but actual action was beyond me. One day at recess I decided to imagine a world in which I had a supersonic scream--a scream so piercing and awful that anyone who was mean to me within range would fall down dead (I think I remember imagining blood pouring from their ears). So, there I was, spinning around in circles. Screaming at the top of my lungs with my eyes closed. Imagining the bodies falling around me. Soon thereafter, the bell rang and I headed back to class.

So, rather than funny, I find this book sad. And, I am saddened for the young people who's screams are not heard and who long for revenge in the midst of their own powerlessness.

Childbirth, Lent and Purity Codes

Epiphany jetted past at a suspiciously swift tempo (hello time/space continuum, slow down please!). And I feel like I've fallen directly into Lent--the most un-Lenten Lent I've ever experienced. At the same time, I know the dance between life and death continues and I am well aware of the risks of love.

Statistically, historically (and no, I'm not going to hunt down the book this came from at 6am), the average marriage only lasted 7 years. Not because of some "seven year itch" or medieval divorce rates--but, because of death in childbirth. While this is clearly no longer the case (in this country at any rate) it is an awareness that is hard to shake. While this is not a fear that keeps me up at night...nor one that torments me in the day...it is a knowledge I carry. A knowledge ground into my pores like the ashes from last night (however, unlike the ashes, this knowledge won't make me break out).

A strange sensation, this carrying of life and death. Yet, at the same time, it is something we all carry. It's interesting how the purity legislation surrounding childbirth in most cultures is incredibly restrictive--and if we are to believe Bell's work on the matter--this has to do most intimately with how close the childbearing woman has come to the margins of death of life. (The same concept underlies purity codes around menstruation) Blood, water, life, death--great pain and great joy.

Welcome to a Holy Lent indeed. Interesting, given all of this, that Lent has traditionally been a time of preparation for baptism. Perhaps this is where I will find my sense of the sacred in Lent--not so much in reflecting on the passion (altho' it is my natural inclination to do so) but in preparing for birth. Lent is a liminal season. It is neither fish nor fowl--and I am currently not one nor two. My anticipation of Easter seems bound to my anticipation of a major ontological transformation (in other words, birth/parenting will transform both me and my beloved). Hmmm, perhaps there is something to be said for a liminal third trimester juxtaposed with a liminal Lent?

My apologies for all of the anthropological/theo "speak". But this language is the place I begin--and where I find a false sense of control over what there can be no control over. That said, it's time to slip into a modified child's pose to help this kidlet realize that they are facing the wrong way!

Parenting Tips in Literature

I don’t know how many people feel that an essential part of preparing for child birth is the re-reading of their favorite childhood books. Don’t get me wrong, I have spent hours poring over Dr. Sears’ Baby Book; What to Expect When You’re Expecting; Real Boys; Gender Matters; and The Happiest Baby on the Block. I am nothing if not practical and I want to get “it” right—whatever “it” is.

However, on this the last day of 2009, I spent the morning smiling and crying over the adventures of Anne of Green Gables. And, through the lens of impending motherhood, it occurred to me that my desire to spend time immersed in the worlds of authors such as Kipling and Montgomery comes from a place of dreaming and hoping for this baby. I want him to weep over the death of Matthew and feel the tension as Anne walks the ridge pole. I want him to laugh over silly elephant child and the cake crumbs that itched the rhinoceros so terribly.

I have found myself fretting over how to raise this child with the kind of love, gentleness and appreciation for beauty (and story) that I feel important. I have also worried myself over teaching him graciousness and “good manners”—as well as everything else he needs to know. I make rules: about bedtime and screen time, about washing up and dinner prayers. There is so much he will need to know and so much we will need to teach—I want to bring him up well and I want him to be a credit to himself and to his family. I want him to love God and his neighbor and to nourish kindness in the cradle of his being. A daunting task…

But, in my reading I came across a parenting tip from the quiet and unassuming Matthew Cuthbert—“As it was, he was free to “spoil Anne”—Marilla’s phrasing—as much as he liked. But it was not such a bad arrangement after all; a little “appreciation” sometimes does quite as much good as all the conscientious “bringing up” in the world.”

So my prayer for 2010 is that I will be able to embrace the role of appreciator as well as bringer upper—that I will laugh and cry more and that I will learn what I need to allow this child to grow into exactly the person God means him to be. And, yes, we will spoil him in exactly the ways a child needs to be "spoiled".

And, now, I need to learn how to bake a birthday cake from scratch before this baby comes.

Biblical Curse Generator

For those of you who aren't quite as creative as John the Baptist this biblical curse generator might help!

God's peace and blessing on this third Sunday in Advent.

Reverend Joy+

Advent, the f-bomb and me...

So, I've been contemplating the propers for this coming Sunday (the third Sunday in Advent). And, in the Gospel we have good ol' John the Baptist calling the crowd a "brood of vipers!". It's a rather abrupt start to the good news on a wintry Sunday and it leads to some unusual homiletical cud...

When my sister and I were teens (13 and 16) my mother began to use swear words in addressing us. And, it wasn't just mild swears--she used the f-bomb with frequency and sort of evolved from there. When I complained about her language she claimed that nothing else worked to "get our attention". While I'm still traumatized by the amount of cussing my mother continues to engage in (having gotten into the habit) I am also intrigued at the idea of how she felt that she needed to go to this extreme to get us to listen to her. So as I contemplate John's fiery language it occurs to me that it is, perhaps, a rhetorical device used to get their, and our, attention.

Was this device effective? Was cursing the crowd the best way to begin the relationship and spread the good news? Perhaps, perhaps not. And, as scripture tells us, they didn't actually start to wonder if he was the messiah until he enjoined them to live with justice, mercy and compassion. So, it wasn't the anger or cursing that kept them engaged and made them wonder if the world was on the brink of being transformed. Rather, it was his emphasis on the need for change and transformation as they prepared for the arrival of the true messiah.

But, his opening curses are still ringing in our ears and we find ourselves listening--reading on to see what this emphatic and unusual man is about. God does go to such extremes to get our attention, no?

Where is God trying to get our attention this Advent season? Where are we finding ourselves brought up short by unexpected encounters with truth? Where has the miraculous been brought to our attention?

For me, it's the movement within and the combined joy and fear I experience as I contemplate the baby on the way It's a glaringly obvious, for me, experience of the fear/joy that Mary must have experienced with her own pending birth. And this pregnancy serves as a reminder of the depth of love God has for all of us in God's willingness to become vulnerable to the reality of human suffering.

It's a season of already but not yet incarnation. And, I am in the thick of it.

(completely unrelated...who on earth thinks it's okay to tell a pregnant woman that she's looking "fat"! I'm just kind of wondering what planet I was on when I was told this by someone who knows that I am pregnant!!!)