What I Get.

Many people's initial reaction when I mention my new diet (and, let's face it, I've mentioned it to just about everyone in the last six weeks or so, including total strangers) is "What do you eat?!"  Frankly, it was my first reaction, too.

But if my narrative of late has been the narrative of "no wheat, dairy, or eggs" (to the extent that Jo has also taken it upon herself to inform strangers that "Mom is allergic to wheat, dairy, and eggs"), it has also become a narrative of unsuffering sacrifice.  Ribs instead of a burger.  Sushi instead of a sandwich.

I made a fantastic batch of granola last week that I'm not sure I would have happened upon were it not for the new diet.  And I've returned to an old affection for vanilla soy milk.  Berries and watermelon and peaches and nectarines.  Soon we'll be home in the Pacific Northwest before cherry season is over.  I can hardly wait.  Roast chicken.  Olives.  Hummus and tahini, salsa and chutney.  I am not suffering, I assure you.

Last night I tossed together one of my new favorite desserts that will linger long after this phase has passed me by, Coconut Polenta Cake.  Indeed, the sacrifice is small, and the limitation renews my creativity as every good artist learns when muddling with a new medium.

Good Granola

Wet Ingredients (mix together)
1/2 c. unsweetened applesauce
1/4 c. canola oil
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. honey
2 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. salt
1 Tb. Penzey's Baking Spice (or good cinnamon)

Dry Ingredients
3 c. rolled oats
1 c. steel cut oats
1 c. nuts (slivered almonds are my choice)

Mix together dry ingredients and pour wet ingredients over, stirring until evenly coated.  Press onto parchment-lined rimmed sheet pan and bake at 300 degrees for 25 minutes.  Stir, and continue to bake at 10-15 minute increments, stirring in between, until golden brown.  Store in air-tight container.  Frankly, I don't know how long this will keep, since it never lasts me as long as it should.

Coconut Polenta Cake

Preheat oven to 350.

Whisk together 1 can light coconut milk, 3/4 c. cornmeal, 1 tsp. salt, and 1/2 c. sugar. 
Pour into greased 9x9 pan, top with a generous handful of fresh or frozen raspberries. 
Bake 40-45 minutes until set. 
Cool to room temperature and slice. 
Also good chilled (that is, for breakfast).

What I Miss.

• Bread.
• Fried eggs.
• Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies.
• Cheese.  Yes, cheese, Gromit.
• Did I say bread?
• Restaurant Menus.
• Milk.
• Licking the spoon.  Or my fingers.
• Evening up the edges.
• Stroganoff.
• Scrambled eggs.
• Communion bread.
• Toast.
• Cheese samples.
• Yogurt.
• Bread samples.
• MorMor's Fruit Cobbler.
• Mindless eating.  (Okay, it's probably good I've given this one up.)
• Pizza.
• Cheese.
• And bread.

Faithfulness

Taking up a new habit such as this (rather dramatic, if I may say) shift in my diet has only been possible so far with a daily commitment.  That is, each day I commit to eating this way, today.  I ask no more than that of myself.

In the past week, however, I have read two distinct blog posts both from faithful and wise friends who advise, conversely, to make some long-term plans that might serve as a guiding star for one's life, and to acknowledge the immediacy of each day--even each moment--in the reminder that in tomorrow, life might be entirely changed.

How to balance this tension?  How to make a commitment that is only one day long and nonetheless call it a commitment?

These questions lead me to think about the double meaning of faith and faithfulness.  On the one hand, we speak of faithfulness as a steady commitment over time.  To keep faith with someone is to endure.  To walk.  To live.  To entrust.  Faithfulness is not fleeting.  On the other hand, to live in faith is to step into the unknown moment.  To move into the realm of unseen things.  To trust.  Faith reaches toward the future, uncertain of all that lies ahead.

I often tell my students (and remind myself) that I am a person of faith.  I don't know how they understand the term, but when I say that, I mean to speak the double meaning of faith.  I am a person of commitment and consistency (overmuch, perhaps some would say) and at the same time, I endeavor to cast my lot into the unknown stretching out before me.

Of course, what I also mean to say when I announce that I am a person of faith is that I do not and cannot dwell in this faith alone.  It is a gift from God, and it is sustained by the community of faith that surrounds me.  This faith is ultimately the food that I eat.  It is the blessing of God realized in bread and wine (even, though they are dreadful in a way I had not anticipated, gluten-free wafers) that becomes my life.

Past and future.  Surrounding and within.  Received and given.

Passing up pizza for a time hardly seems like an act of faith, particularly given the real sufferings the world has to distribute among God's children, but the daily choices of what and how I eat have a way of getting my attention.  So I am grateful for the faith given to me and hope, for today, that I will live it out on behalf of others, or at least one other.

Amen.

Eating in a New Way

When the pediatrician suggested we run some allergy tests to see if we could help Matt's itchiness and dry skin, I said a quick prayer that it wouldn't turn up a dairy allergy. 

When the nurse called a few days later, she told me that it was, in fact, wheat . . . and eggs . . . and dairy . . . and peanuts.

Oooof.

My first inclination was that he'd be switching to formula right away.  But then I remembered how expensive formula is--especially the allergy-safe formula.  So I decided to take it one day at a time.  So far, more than a month later, I'm still sticking with it.  At least for today.

I did allow myself to go shopping right away for some alternative ingredients to have on hand, and I immediately proved to myself that I could still make and eat treats by whipping up a batch of rice crispy treats and eating almost the whole pan. 

So now I'm a gluten-free, meat-eating vegan who is the obnoxious person pestering waitstaff with questions.

I've also gotten to read a whole host of interesting cookbooks I wouldn't have otherwise touched.

And I'm still eating pretty well.

An update, of a sort

There's too much to catch up on in the more-than-a-year past, but I'm back in cooking and writing mode.  Cooking because I'm taking up a challenge on behalf of my young son (yes, he's part of the more-than-a-year past) to eliminate all wheat, eggs, and dairy from my diet.  If you look back over many of the recipes I've posted here, you'll see that this is a significant shift.  In fact, the title of the blog belies an affection for baked goods that is strong (and without wheat, eggs, and dairy, cookies are a mere shadow of what they are meant to be).  But I'm finding plenty to eat nonetheless, and I've made some interesting chemical discoveries in the world of substitutions.

And writing, I hope that will be returning, too, since I'm faced with a double-edged sword of time in the form of a sabbatical from ordinary teaching and administrative responsibilities, and I have a host of writing projects I'm planning.  Yes, this blog is one of them. 

So, if you're still out there, thanks for checking in.  I'm planning to be here more often in the coming weeks, too.

Resurrection and Revelation III: Terror and Doubt

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”  Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.”  Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”  Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

John 20.24-29

As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed.  But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”  So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

And all that had been commanded them they told briefly to those around Peter.  And afterward Jesus himself sent out through them, from east to west, the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation.

[Now after he rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he ahd cast out seven demons.  She went out and told those who had been with him, while they were mourning and weeping.  But when they heard that he was alive and had been seen by her, they would not believe it.

After this he appeared in another form to two of them, as they were walking into the country.  And they went back and told the rest, but they did not believe them.]

Mark 16.5-13

 

There's so much to celebrate on Easter morning.  In the dimness of a pre-dawn gathering, we can smell the lilies and anticipate the alleluias that have been quiet for so long.  The brightness of "He is Risen!" shatters the sorrow and darkness.

 

That's what we say.

 

But the first narratives of the resurrection weren't filled with the joy of Easter finery and egg bake and jelly beans.  The first narratives of the resurrection were filled with terrified people and confusion and disbelief.

 

Thomas's story is one of few passages of scripture that appears annually in the lectionary readings.  We never get a year without Thomas's doubt (for which he is named) and his proclamation (for which we would be better served to remember him):  "My Lord and my God!"

 

But in Mark's gospel, the picture is even more fraught.  The language of the revelation is harsh:  Alarmed.  Terror.  Seized.  Afraid.  "And they said nothing to anyone."  Silence.

 

And then, in the appended ending to Mark, we seem to have attempts to smooth the story over a bit--but instead we get two more stories that end in disbelief.

 

The miracle at the end of Mark's gospel hardly even seems to be the resurrection.  In fact, it's hard to read resurrection in this narrative of emptiness and silence and confusion.  The strongest miracle seems to be what happens afterward: through them, "the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation"--that is, the story.

 

The story--the proclamation--itself becomes the imperishable.  The story of resurrection that cannot die.

So in others' doubt and terror, we receive the story.  We receive a story that does not destroy doubt but, instead, provides an enduring narrative that shows us how, even in the midst of the dimness and silence and fear of our lives, revelation comes.  We don't often recognize it at first (and we may not recognize it at all), but resurrection is walking around among us.  And what is more, that sacred and imperishable proclamation is sent out through them.  Them.  The them who kept not believeing.  The them who were terrified.  The them who were fearful and silent.

Miracle of miracles:  the story moves beyond the faith and courage of the teller.  Even when we are timid and tired, the sacred and imperishable proclamation remains.  Sustaining us in our belief and in our unbelief.

Resurrection and Revelation II: Fish for Breakfast

While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost.  He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?  Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?”  They gave him a piece of broiled fish,  and he took it and ate in their presence.

Luke 24.36-43

After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way.  Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus.  Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish.  That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea.  But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread.  Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.”  So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord.  Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.  This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

John 21.1-14

 

Fish-eating is apparently a party trick of the resurrection.

 

At least, that's what it seems like in this passage from Luke.  The disciples still don't understand.  (How could they?)  So Jesus has a snack.

 

Why?  The resurrection is clearly not a ghost story.  Ghosts don't go around asking other folks for fish.  Ghosts don't invite touching.  Ghosts aren't hungry for breakfast.

 

And in the face of such a display, the disciples still don't know what to do, so they go back to their familiar routines.  "I'm going fishing," Peter announces.  And the routines are just as empty and pointless as they maybe often are, hours spent trawling for . . . nothing, apparently.

 

But in both of these stories, Jesus does not demand faith. He doesn't condemn the disciples for returning to the comforting emptiness of pre-resurrection routines.  Instead, he invites them to come close--close enough to touch.  He eats.  He cooks.  He feeds them. 

 

Rather than calling them away from the emptiness of their daily tasks, he fills it.

 

And he fills it so that they--and he--might be fed.