The Ministry of Cookies

By way of introduction, a credo that I wrote in February of 2009:

I believe in the ministry of cookies.

Every Sunday afternoon and evening, for two years of my life, I made cookies for college students.

I made dozens of cookies a week for two years in order to stop my college chaplain from bringing in the same, tired bag of generic store-brand cookies and trying to pass it off as “fellowship” each week.

About two months into the experiment, he told me that he suspected many of the people were coming for the cookies.  I was glad.

Because, before the cookies, those who came also received the sacrament of holy communion, as we all came together in a circle around the altar, standing side by side as members of the body of Christ, taking in the body of Christ, confessing our dependence on him and on one another in a community of faith.

In one of the most memorable images that represents the presence of God, Rublev presents three figures—the persons of the Holy Trinity—gathered around a table, sharing a snack.  It could be cookies.

And so, tonight, when my fear, anxiety, and anger has striven to consume me all day long—all week long—and when my prayers have seemed altogether pitiful, I came home and baked cookies.  I bake for my colleague, who won’t be my colleague much longer.  I don’t know what else to do for her in this moment, but I know that in times of grief, food can be a comfort.  At the very least, my making cookies might make her laugh about my own, somewhat stilted and Midwestern way of doing things.  I bake for my students, whose eagerness and joy inspire me in the mornings and remind me of the commitment I have made to them and to this particular community of faith.  I bake for myself, because I believe that when we are most in need, when we are starving in our own frustration and loneliness and poverty, God comes to us in very real, very tangible ways.  I bake because my image of God is of the Holy Trinity, gathered in communion around a table to which we have been divinely invited.

On the night in which he was betrayed, Jesus took bread, broke it, and gave thanks.  Because of the grace he has given me, I pass the cookie plate around and pray for God’s peace in my community.

The buzzer just rang.  I should get them out of the oven.

Amen