Everyday Boy

More About Soup

Beautiful soup, so rich and green.
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!

Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland
From Soup In Season

Soup continues to seep into my days it.  Every Tuesday at Regent College, a local international graduate school where some of my housemates go, anywhere up to three hundred students and faculty gather in the atrium for a meal.  It's a great bustling scene where folks gather around a table or more often than not somewhere on the floor, to sit and talk over bread and a bowl of soup which is dished out from big shiny vats. My housemate was running low on kitchen help in the afternoon, so I had some soup with some of the students and then helped with some of the clean-up afterward.  It was good to witness such a wonderful example of community and hospitality, especially with such an international flavor of folks.  I subsequently found a little book on our kitchen bookshelf called Soup In Season, made by some of the folks who dished out soup last year:

As we gather around tables, we listen to stories of joy and sorrow, and help one another along the way.  As we engage with people from around the world, we particularize our sense of belonging to a global human family.  The solitary are brought into families (Psalm 68), and we become a richer and fuller reflection of the universal body of Christ.
       The prepackaged, artificially flavored, chemically stabilized, genetically modified food that many of us eat today is produced in distant factories or grown in far-flung fields by a shrinking number of corporations, many of which depend upon the resources and cheap labor of the two-thirds world.  We have chosen convenient and quick over a commitment to thoughtful relationship with the creation through gardening and husbandry.  The breakdown of the family parallels the forgoing of table fellowship in American culture.  Our consumption of food (or, for those of us with eating disorders, our rejection of food) has become less about nourishment and more about satisfying cravings, controlling our nerves and battling fatigue, depression and the mediated images we carry of the human body. When the food we eat is merely shaken out of boxes, dumped out of cans, pulled from the microwave, rattled our of machines or consumed out of paper sacks while driving alone along congested streets, then the meal ceases to be a sacrament, a feast of nourishment, a gift to the stranger, a prophetic witness to our neighbors.
       As our contemporary culture becomes more and more artificial, less and less human (Romano Guardini), our table fellowship can become prophetic witness. (4)

They go on to write about fostering faithful stewardship to creation and community, by growing your own produce, building relationships with and buying from your local independent grocers, and eating seasonally, thus supporting area farmers. ...extend the table fellowship what you have received... to all you meet in the places where you live, work, play and pray.  So, I was inspired this week to make and share some soup with some friends, and  I found this wonderful seafood chowder recipe from Comfort Food: Soups, Stew & Pot Roasts.  I made my way to the local vegetable stand and seafood vendor and even had a lovely serenade from a choir singing Christmas carols outside on the shop's sidewalk:

Creamy Shellfish Chowder
Serves four.

To create an exceptionally luxurious texture, whisk a quickly made paste of butter and flour into the boiling stock before adding the seafood.  Called a beurre manie, this quick step emulsifies the ingredients and adds a richness that cream alone can't match.  Only use clams and mussels that are tightly closed.

For the beurre manie:

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 1/2 teaspoons all-purpose flour

For the chowder:

4 ounces bacon, excess fat removed and cut into 1/2-inch dice
1 1/2 cups sliced leeks (white and light green parts only), washed well
1 rib celery, sliced
2/3 cup dry vermouth
2 cups diced red potatoes, skin left on
2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves,
1 cup clam juice (1 8-ounce jar) plus 1 1/2 cups water (or 2 1/2 cups purchased fish stock)
1 cup heavy cream
12 medium hard-shell clams (about 1 1/4 pounds), or 12 mussels (1/3 to 1/2 pound), or a mix, scrubbed
12 medium shrimp (about 1/2 pound), peeled and devined
12 sea scallops (about 1/2 pound), cut into quarters if large
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Pinch Cayenne

Make the beurre manie:

In a small bowl, cream the butter and flour with a wooded spoon to make a paste. Set aside.

Make the chowder:

Heat a soup pot over medium heat.  Add the bacon and cook until most of the fat is rendered and the bacon is lightly browned but not crisp.  Add the leeks and celery and cook until they turn a brighter green without browning, about 2 minutes. Add the vermouth, bring to a boil, and reduce by one-third. Add the potatoes, thyme, and either the clam juice and water or the fish stock.  Simmer until the potatoes are tender but not mushy, 10 to 15 minutes depending on the size of the dice; begin checking early.
       Bring the soup to a boil and whisk in the beurre manie a spoonful at a time. Pour in the cream and let the soup boil until slightly thickened, about 1 minute. When ready to serve, add the clams or mussels and cook, covered, until the shells begin to open, about 4 minutes for mussels and 8 minutes for clams. Add the shrimp, simmer for 1 minute, and then add the scallops; cook until the scallops are warmed through, about 2 minutes.  Season to taste with salt, pepper, and cayenne. Serve immediately in warmed bowls.

A shared meal continues to be a blessing and a challenge for me.  We have weekly meals together at the house here, but of course, as Chittister reminded me again this week in Insights For The Ages, hospitality is much more than food and entertaining.  I still feel like I have much to learn about true hospitality, which for me seems to involve overcoming a certain shyness and my bent towards listening rather than talking.  I am challenged once again to share of myself... to model the gift of self with strangers, both at home and especially in welcoming youth at the shelter.  To see the individual before me as a whole individual with their own set of gifts to give me:

Hospitality was not a warm meal and a safe haven. Hospitality in the Benedictine community was attention and presence to the needs of the other.  Hospitality was a public ministry designed to nourish the other in body and in soul, in spirit and in psyche.
       Welfare agencies give clothes; parishes collect food for the poor; flea markets provide rare goods at cheap prices.  The problem is that too many of the handouts come with hardly a look and never a personal moment for the people they set out to serve.  Benedictine spirituality sets a standard of comfort and care, conversation and respect - the things that make a human being human - as well as bed and board... none of us can afford to be too busy or too important to do the same. (148-149)

People In Our Neighborhood

Much to our neighbor's amazement, we managed to clear cut our jungle-like backyard - trimming the grass and weeds that I'm sure were plotting on taking over the backyard.  Unfortunately, none of us have much gardening skill, time or patience - so our neighbor, witnessing our struggles, graciously offered her help in digging out the weeds instead of the flowers, from our garden.  We plan on buying her some flowers.

After surviving an afternoon of gardening I went with Leroy to one of his favorite haunts on the Eastside.  A bar called The Met, which has cheap pints, free pool and I've been told, some good looking bartenders.  He showed me a place around the corner where you can buy 70 cent pieces of chicken and $1.50 glasses of beer.  The rule of thumb is not inquiring where the chicken comes from.  So if you're ever in the area it's Prime Time Chicken at the prime time bar that opens at the prime hour of 9am - which is usually full up and then emptied by 11am as customers do a very early bar hop.  If there's one thing I love about Leroy it's the way he connects with folks from all walks of life - especially those on the Downtown Eastside.  I see Jesus in him that way.

I want you to share your bread with the hungry, open your homes to the homeless poor, remove the yoke of injustice, let the oppressed go free. - Isaiah 58

We have these words hanging on the wall in our kitchen.  Hard words to live up to.  There is a woman who has decided to take up residence underneath our back stairs.  A purple sleeping bag and blanket neatly folded beside the white plastic patio table and chairs and the mangled green garden hose.  It's a situation that has made us think as a community what hospitality is about.  On the one hand we are renting this property, answering to our landlord and belonging to a neighborhood that we want to respect and keep safe.  And then of course there are these words on our wall boring into our consciousness.

My housemate Chris has said moments like this make him ask what would Jesus do?  Normally statements like those would make me cringe, especially when marketed on a bracelet or t-shirt - but I know it comes from a sincere perspective.  Indeed, how would Jesus respond?  Six months ago Chris gave this woman a jacket and shoes, and helped her reconnect with her social worker, who in turn directed her to some housing.  Six months later she's back for reasons unknown.  But she remembers Chris by name and finds the spot beneath our stairs to be a safe place, so we've left it for now.  We figure if she needs to crash beneath our stairs for a bit - it's okay for the time being.  We hope to play this out as it unfolds.

The other woman who I think of is a small elderly Chinese woman who scours the recycling bins and garbage in the back alleyway for pop cans and other bottles she can trade in for money.  We make sure she has access to our bins.  She has taken to ringing the doorbell and asking if we have anything for her.  My initial response?  Peer through the eye-hole and wait until she goes away. But gradually I've been expecting her and open the door and try to be a gracious host - as brief as that may be.  She speaks very little English and I feel quite stupid offering her our recyclables.  How un-extravagant.  She says thank you again and again bowing her head constantly and smiling.  Is that enough?  I think so.  Am I making this too hard, or too simple?

We become neighbors when we are willing to cross the road for one another. There is so much separation and segregation: between black people and white people, between gay people and straight people, between young people and old people, between sick people and healthy people, between prisoners and free people, between Jews and Gentiles, Muslims and Christians, Protestants and Catholics, Greek Catholics and Latin Catholics.

There is a lot of road crossing to do. We are all very busy in our own circles. We have our own people to go to and our own affairs to take care of. But if we could cross the street once in a while and pay attention to what is happening on the other side, we might become neighbors.

-- Henri Nouwen, Bread For The Journey (July 21)

First Week of Spring

Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each. - Henry David Thoureau

With Spring upon us our community welcomed Leroy to our household, a new volunteer who has fit in quite well so far with his love of food and cooking: this past week we've headed out for some Japanese delicacies, had wonderful home cooked meals of curry chicken and a variety of soups, and just last night hosted a Passover Seder Meal for some friends and family:

The Seder meal has a rich history for Christians and Jews.  For our Jewish brothers and sisters the Seder is a Passover celebration of the Hebrews'  Exodus, their escape to freedom after over 400 years of Egyptian slavery.  For Christians, the Seder is the Passover meal that Jesus shared with His disciples on Holy Thursday, also Known as The Last Super.  In the Catholic tradition, it was also the first celebration of the Eucharist when Jesus said, Do this in remembrance of me.

Several journey themes are found in the Seder meal: a journey from darkness to light, from slavery to freedom, from exile to the Promised Land.  Jesus celebrated he Seder as a way of both foretelling His journey from death to resurrection and preparing His disciples for how they could follow in His footsteps.

... You witness poverty and suffering on a daily basis.  Yet you are challenged to bring light, to be light for those you encounter throughout your journey.  The Seder meal can be a special way to commemorate your experiences this year and help you continue to journey and be symbols of light amidst darkness.

It was fun cooking up our interpretation of a traditional Seder meal, and exploring Jewish customs and symbols associated with Passover.  By no means did we celebrate this feast very accurately, but if anything I think we captured a bit of it's spirit.

We cooked lamb shanks with eggplant and thyme, brisket in a red wine marinade, spinach and mushroom soup, a carrot dish, a passover cake, and quite fittingly, at the last minute made unleavened bread (Matzoh) - a reminder of the haste with which the Israelites left Egypt.  We also set out two lit candles on the tables to symbolize the promise of liberation, and the journey from darkness to light; horseradish (Maror) to symbolize the bitterness of slavery and broken relationships; and an Easter egg (Beitzah) as a symbol of new life and the perpetuation of existence.

Throughout the meal we drank red wine (Yayin), remembering the customary four glasses that are to be consumed during a Passover service to represent hope/rebirth, liberation, resistance and peace.  We also accidentally had an empty seat for Elijah the prophet (Kos Eliyahu), but forgot to set out a cup of wine - both symbols that all people are invited to rejoice in the feeling of freedom, and reminders of the importance to make room for strangers.  With all our fumbling it was a fun night of learning, conversation, food and laughter.

Let us fill the first of our four cups of sine to Spring, a time of hope and rebirth, God's renewal of the promise of Life.  Behold this cup of wine, gift of the Creator, the One who made us Holy that we might know and say what is Holy.  Teach us to recognize and to celebrate the tender and sacred signs of Life - our own children and those of our sisters and brothers around the globe who are the first to find laughter amidst the suffering, the fragile but enduring ecosystem of our planet which continues to support us despite a centuries of abuse and the quiet, ever-present voice of justice which can somehow still be heard above the deafening roar of our times. - From a reading for a community Seder meal.

New Year's Tradition

Abba Poemen said about Abba Pior that every single day he made a fresh beginning.

Yushi Nomura, Desert Wisdom: Sayings from the Desert Fathers

After a full day of work yesterday I hopped a plane to Calgary and made it in time to count down the end of the year with family and friends.  Despite being greeted by a foot of snow and cold, it was good to be back at home after being away for nine and a half months.  What I've always appreciated is the way my extended family and friends have always gathered for food and togetherness on birthdays, anniversaries, and special occasions.  Mixed in with these communal gatherings are some Filipino customs, like eating a bowl of rice porridge for luck upon entering a New Year.  A couple of years ago I wrote the following, and it still rings true for me:

Every December 31st, it's a family tradition to usher in the New Year with a bowl of arrozcaldo. Arroz meaning rice, and caldo meaning soup. It's a Filipino chicken and rice porridge thought to bring prosperity and good luck to the New Year. Also, it’s just good ol’ plain comfort food for cold winter nights.

Arrozcaldo

Ingredients:

1 cup of rice
3 cups of tap water
1 medium-sized fresh ginger
1 medium-sized yellow onion
1 bunch of green onions
1 lb of chicken breast cut into strips

Directions:

In a medium-sized saucepan or pot saute chicken strips in fresh garlic, fresh ginger, and chopped yellow onion. Add 3 cups of water and bring to a boil. Add 1 cup of rice and boil for 15 minutes until rice is cooked. Add saffron threads and stir. Cut green onion and add to the congee. Add a few drops of fish sauce or soy sauce and lemon juice to taste. Serve while hot.

In the Philippines, it was once standard practice to keep a vat of arrozcaldo… warming on the stove all day - a stack of small bowls always nearby - ready to share at a moment’s notice with friends and family who drop by unexpectedly. So as I ate my bowl of arrozcaldo last night, I wondered about not only what this New Year will bring, but also - what will I bring to the New Year? Will I be prepared to show others hospitality, with my everyday prosperities?

Circles

"Let everyone, in the way that they can, work for the good of all. Always be eager to help each other, whether by teaching and sowing the Word of God in the heart of your brother, or by consoling him in times of trial, or by giving practical help with his work. In a word, let all of you pay attention, each one as much as he can, as I have said, to being united to one another. For the closer someone is to their neighbour, the closer they are to God.

To help you understand what this means, here is an image taken from the Fathers: imagine a circle drawn on the ground, that is, a line drawn round with a pair of compasses, with a center. What we call the center is of course the exact middle of the circle. Use your imagination to picture what I am saying. Imagine that the circle is the world; the centre is God; and the radial lines, like spokes, are people's different ways of life. When good people want to come closer to God and so come towards the centre of the circle, as they get nearer to the middle, they get closer to one another at the same time as they approach God. The closer they get to God, the closer they get to one another; and the closer they get to one another, the closer they get to God." - Dorotheus of Gaza, 6th Century monk in Palestine

Compassion

Earlier this month I wrote of hospitality from an individual viewpoint. I was reminded in a reading during prayer yesterday morning, the importance of hospitality practiced as a community. In his book Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life, Henri Nouwen writes:

"It is difficult for us as individuals to enter into the pains and sufferings of our fellow human beings. But in the community gathered in Christ's name, there is unlimited space into which strangers from different places with very different stories can enter and experience God's compassionate presence. It is a great mystery that compassion often becomes real for poeple not simply because of the deeds of one hospitable individual, but because of an intangible atmosphere resulting from a common life. Certain parishes, prayer groups, households, homes, houses, convents, or monasteries have a true healing influence that can make both members and their guests feel understood, accepted, cared for, and love. The kindness of the individual people often seems more a manifestation of this healing environment than the cause of it." (57, 58)

Hospitality

"The two traveling friends invite, indeed, press, the stranger to stay with them. "Be our guest," they say. They want to be his hosts. They invite the stranger to lay aside his strangeness and become a friend to them. That's what true hospitality is all about, to offer a safe place, where the stranger can become friend. There were two friends and a stranger. But now there are three friends, sharing the same table." - Henri Nouwen, With Burning Hearts: A Meditation on the Eucharistic Life (74)

My dear friend Karen has been writing some reflections on hospitality the past couple of days, which has had me thinking about what hospitatlity means to me in the every-day. The idea of creating space comes to mind when I think of hospitality - a space where people I encounter during the day may enter into fearlessly, in order that he or she can lay aside their strangeness.

I also think of an illustrative story by Vincent Van Gogh, in Henri Nouwen's book The Way of the Heart. The story relates ourselves to that of a house along the way for pilgrims to stop by. He stresses the importance of closed doors, with only smoke from a chimney telling of a fire inside. Nouwen uses the illustration of closed doors to point out the importance of silence in our spiritual life, in order that the fire inside of use does not die - but I think it can be used in a general sense, that we need to tend and guard our inner life, and not share ourselves with everyone.

I like to think that everyone I encounter in the day I receive as Christ, but I know I do not fully understand this. There seem to be circumstances where I am to invite others openly, and when I am to shut the door. But the one aspect that I perhaps miss most of all, is being received as Christ. To accept the invitation to lay aside my own strangeness, and to give of myself. How does one balance this all?

Companions

The word companion has its derivation from the words bread and with.  A companion is someone you break bread with.  In my life the breaking of bread at the evening meal can be the most important time of the day...

It's the Family Day long weekend here in Alberta, Canada.  I thought it would be a productive time of checking things off on my to do list, but instead it turned out to be a weekend of taking naps, catching up on taped television shows, and meeting up with all sorts of kindred folk over meals and drinks.  While not a very productive weekend, I think I was all the better for it.

Tonight, my sister's boyfriend took our family out to a neighborhood Italian restaurant for supper.  Last night, I had two suppers - one with friends from the church I grew up in, and the other with a fellow courier who cooked a midnight chicken stir fry for me.  On Valentine's I had drinks at a cafe with three good friends whose company I always delight in, and who are all so witty and honest.  And on Friday night I ventured out with two of my cousins, and a friend for supper, where relationships was the hot and funny topic of conversation.

Last month a friend threw out the idea of concentric circles of community overlapping in our lives, as we questioned how to sustain a community of scattered pilgrims.  I'm trying not to run around too much in the circles I find myself in, and at the same time trying to figure out the responsibilities I have to the people in my life.  How do I care for those around me?  The past couple of years I've grown fond of Nouwen's thoughts of being obedient to the community around you.  The word obedient coming from the Latin word abduire, meaning to listen deeply. It speaks to the fact that sometimes we don't have a choice as to the kind of communities we find ourselves in.  As an introvert I can find it taxing to be around too many people too much, but at all times, I want to be hospitable to the person before me, whether it's a family member, acquaintance or stranger.  I was reading the chapter called Celibate Passion in Kathleen Norris' book The Cloister Walk last week, and found it to be something to use as a guide:

As celibacy takes hold in a person, over the years, as monastic values supersede the values of the culture outside the monastery, celibates become people who can radically affect those of us out in the world, if only because they've learned how to listen without possessiveness, without imposing themselves. With someone who is practicing celibacy well, we may sense that we're being listened to in a refreshingly deep way.  And this is the purpose of celibacy, not to attain some impossibly cerebral goal mistakenly conceived as holiness but to make oneself available to others, body and soul.  Celibacy, simply put, is a form of ministry - not an achievement one can put on a resume but a subtle form of service to others.  In theological terms, one dedicates ones sexuality to God through Jesus Christ, a concept and a terminology I find extremely hard to grasp.  All I can do is to catch a glimpse of people who are doing it, incarnating celibacy in a mysterious, pleasing, and gracious way.

The attractiveness of the celibate is that he or she can make us feel appreciated, enlarged, no matter who we are.  I have two nun friends who invariably have that effect on me, whatever the circumstances of our lives on the infrequent occasions when we meet.  The thoughtful way in which they converse, listening and responding with complete attention, seems always a marvel. (121)

I too find examples around me of people incarnating hospitality, and I find myself grateful for the companions in my life.  I am often unsure of how to respond to the people around me, unsure how to take that step of reaching out to another, unsure how to invest myself in the lives of others without losing my own sense of self.  In the end I find it helps just to pray Lord help, and to listen deeply, both to the inner voice of love, and the voices of those around me.

We talk, and talk, catching up with what has gone on in our lives, in the world around us.  There is always a crisis somewhere on the planet.  There's an ongoing crisis in the daily live of many of us.  Many of my friends worry about the state of the church which we love and which we know is in danger of being trapped in its institutional forms.  As life changes, so must our understanding of what it means to be a human being loved by and loving our Creator.  This is not time for separation, for dividing into denominations and sects and us and them.  We know that the planet, indeed, the whole universe, is a living organism, and what happens to any part of it affects all.  Nobody, nothing is left out.  The time for criticism and condemnation without mercy and compassion is over.  What are we to do?  What is that Edwin Marham poem I learned in high school?

He drew a circle that shut me out -
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.

Around the table we sit, as the candles flicker and burn down.  We share ideas.  We share food.  We share our sense of calling, affirming again that we are here to do God's will and praying we will be given the grace to discern what God's will is.

Love.  Inclusion.  Compassion.  Openness.  Willingness to listen to new ideas, to change.  Lamb and potatoes.  Bread and wine.  Enjoyed together, in the understanding that all of life is a sacrament.  We are companions. (123-135)

Friends for the Journey, Madeline L'Engle's & Luci Shaw