Word and Table
The blue flame of our gas range burns steadily under the pot. It has cooked gently all night getting ready for tonight. Chicken noodle soup was a request. We are feeling a little February-ish around here: sick of the early nights, sick of the cold, sick of being stuck inside. Chicken soup seems like a reasonable answer to mid-February. Into the pot went carrot tops, chicken bones, parsley stems, celery hearts, onions, garlic, and water. After I finish writing, I will saute carrots, onions, and celery until tender; then boil the wide egg noodles in the broth. Lastly, I will return the chicken I picked off the bones to the soup to warm. Chicken soup could be the mascot of the mundane.
In our home full of children, adults, and homeschooling, our table is in constant use. Breakfast is followed by a quick clearing and wipe down (ideally), and then first grade begins. Seventh grade sometimes joins first as his normal school table can get a bit noisy (fourth grade and sixth grade can get a little chatty mid-math). Snack is usually eaten at the counter as books and food are a forbidden mix on the table. Our eleven o’clock work is followed by another quick transformation. Unit blocks, alphabet board, and hundred number charts are hustled into the school basket for lunch. Monday and Tuesday are leftover days, Wednesday is chicken tender day (because we have all been working hard!), Thursday is soup and sandwich day, and Friday is unplanned. Life needs some mystery. The lunch table soon surrenders to reading hour. Not because you have to read at a table, but because the windows next to the table are south facing and the sun on your back is delightful. Right now sixth grade is reading The Magician's Nephew aloud. In the late afternoon, the table takes a rest before (ideally) being dressed for dinner. Table mats, napkins, forks, and water cups should be a-table, but, let’s be honest, I am thrilled if, at least, Narnia is put away.
Our bodies are metabolic machines that require daily nourishment. You know this. I know this. Even first grade knows this. Jesus, also, knew this. When Jesus asked his followers to remember him and his love at his final meal with them, he was harnessing the dailiness of the table: the power of the mundane. Jesus knew that for his followers to incarnate loving God, neighbor, and self, then they would need to sacralize the Often. Rarity is important too, it keeps us looking forward, but rarity does not make a good feeding schedule.
If God is love, then planning nourishing meals is sacred.
If God is love, then working to provide access to nourishment for our families and others is sacred.
If God is love, then chopping, sauteing, stirring, and seasoning are all sacred.
If God is love, receiving nourishment is sacred.
God is Love.
It is all sacred.
Even dishes.
This post was originally written for the Missional Wisdom Foundation.