Monday, October 10, 2016

Pumpkin Season!

Our weekend effectively began on Friday, with my wife arising at 3:30 in the morning to fly back home to us from Maryland. Elij and I picked her up about 10:30 and we stopped for brunch at the Moonlight Diner. The view of the snow-capped mountains was lovely! Our food was very good. Jeannene chose banana walnut pancakes and I opted for a traditional fried egg/hash brown/sausage/toast combo, which was great, while Elijah enjoyed scrambled eggs and bites of our meals. The diner itself was fun, with all kinds of Halloween decorations to add a little seasonal fun to the vintage soda shop type decorations all around us.

From there, we stopped by her office and a couple other places for a brief time before heading home. When we got home, we hung out and watched some t.v. and played with Elijah's new blocks, his souvenir from Maryland. I love them---traditional wood blocks with uppercase & lowercase letters, sign language, numbers, and pictures of things starting with those letters.

By the time dinnertime rolled around, neither of us felt like cooking or going back out, but we figured going out would be the easiest. Jeannene expressed a preference for something Asian, with tofu. I started checking out what's available---and available for delivery---and discovered that one of the local Vietnamese places delivers. So, we got scrumptious noodle dishes and some really great hot & sour soup and Vietnamese pork egg rolls. We were in bed by 9 or so.

Saturday morning, I woke up hungry for pumpkin bread and hot apple cider. I decided to make a loaf of bread, along with the chocolate bark I was going to make to take to our neighbor's house. We'd been invited to dinner and wanted to contribute something. However, we ended up deciding it'd be fun to go to a pumpkin patch and scrapped the bark idea, as it entailed a trip to the grocery. I quietly hoped the pumpkin patch would also have pumpkin bread.

We headed out to Rock Creek Farm and had a really good time checking out the pumpkins in one of their fields. Elijah wasn't too sure about the whole thing. He tends to get very, very serious when in new circumstances and it was certainly different to be on a farm! He was really interested, however, in the pumpkins and, especially, the vines. We got some cute pictures, too. We chose two pumpkins and headed to the area with booths to pay---and see what kinds of baked goods they had. Elij got to sit on some hay bales and have more pictures taken while he played with a gourd. He was fascinated by the shape. I picked a caramel apple, a loaf of pumpkin bread for our hostess, and a fabulous pumpkin bar with cream cheese icing and festive sprinkles. Jeannene opted for a couple of jack o'lantern cookies---one to share with Elijah and one to take home. Lunch was a concession stand hot dog and some of the best spiced hot apple cider I've had in years.

We walked around, enjoying looking at the activities for bigger kids. We met another little boy named Elijah, also 11 months, who adorable, with light caramel skin and ridiculously long eyelashes. We had a nice chat with his folks at the pig pen before moving on to let Elijah get cow snot on his hands. After strolling around some more, we headed for Michael's with our trunk full of farm loot.

It turned out they were having a huge "doorbuster" sale at Michael's and we got a fun trick or treat wreath, a bunch of craft supplies, and a cool birdcage. Then, we had to rush home and get ready to go next door for dinner. Gloria is the neighbor who showed up with a loaf of zucchini bread when we first moved into the house. It was so lovely to be invited to dinner. Gloria had expressed concern that Elijah might be afraid of the Halloween decorations in her house, but he was actually enchanted by the hanging witches and glowing ghosties. Me, I loved the murder of paper crows parading up her staircase. Jeannene and I were both really impressed with the beautiful murals she'd had painted, as well.

We started the evening with drinks outside. One of the men was a baby whisperer and took a great liking to Elijah, who spent much of the evening exploring the yard and house with him and playing. Gloria also very graciously offered him a seat in her grandkids' exersaucer, which he completely loved. After a meal of baked ziti, salad, and garlic bread, we all sat and talked for a long time over dessert. We got home at 10:30 and went right to bed.

In the morning, Jeannene got up early to greet the guy who built our custom baby gates. He'd asked if he could install them at 8 Sunday morning, which seemed like a weird hour to me. We're usually either asleep or getting ready for church then. But, we'd been waiting for the gates for awhile and definitely needed them, as Elijah has become incredibly proficient at stair-climbing and is sad when a mom isn't available to chaperone his upward trips. The guy and his cousin didn't arrive until almost 10, which was frustrating. We'd hoped to get the gates installed quickly and check out one of the area churches. Ah, well, we definitely needed them. Shortly after lunch, Jeannene took a nap while Elijah and I unpacked boxes. When he was ready for his nap, I settled him in on me and watched "Cujo" while he dozed. Jeannene joined me for the last part of it.

After that, we headed into Denver and picked up my cousin Lisa's husband, Alan, for dinner. He's in town for a work trip and we were excited finally to meet him! He turned out to be really nice---I would expect nothing less of Lisa's choice for a life partner---and we had a great time talking with him over pizza, calzone, & salad at The Mellow Mushroom.

When we got home, it was time to program the coffee and head to bed, another weekend in the books, another debate avoided.

Wednesday, October 05, 2016

Vancouver and Butterflies

Among the food plants my wife oversees, one is in Vancouver. I spent a week in Toronto every summer of my teen years, visiting friends, and I've been to Niagara Falls a number of times. When I was tiny, I suspect I went other places in Ontario. I had never, however, been to Vancouver. Many of her business trips are short bursts of 2-3 days, not worth the extra money for me to tag along. However, last week, she was due there for an entire week. So, our Elijah's first international trip turned out to be to Canada. He's a great traveler and continued to be for this trip.

Jeannene went in very early on Monday and was done early, so we got to go poke around Granville Island's Children's Market (where we picked up a Good Night, World board book illustrated with Pacific Northwest First Nations art and a cute pair of high tops featuring the British flag for our boy) and the Granville Island Public Market (where we scored scrumptious maple yummies, a fab vanilla macaron, brie de meaux & 9-year cloth-wrapped cheddar, wonderful bread, and fragrant local strawberries). We also stopped in some neat shops, including DragonSpace, where I saw scores of fairies I wanted to take home. I did get a coloring book, a gorgeous pendant of silver and rainbow moonstone, and a wee dragon for Elij's Enchanted Forest room. We also got to spend time on the quay, eating meat pies and listening to a street performer's renditions of James Taylor songs, among other singer-songwriter type music. He was quite good. Supper was across the street from the Westin, at the Boathouse, where we had some quite good seafood and, more importantly, the best Pimm's Cup I've encountered.

Tuesday, Jeannene had the car for work, so Elijah and I just hung out in the hotel room, playing and resting---and eating too much room service! We had the car Tuesday evening, but I didn't feel like venturing out at night in a city I don't know at all with a baby.

Wednesday, we did get out, driving down to the Gastown tourist district. However, upon arriving in the area, I looked around and determined that it didn't look like much that would be interesting at midday for a 10-month-old. He had fallen asleep, anyway, so it was better not to rouse him for nothing. So, I turned around and drove back to Richmond, where we were staying. By the time we arrived, he was awake. So, we had lunch at Dinesty Dumpling House. I'd been wanting to try soup dumplings and theirs turned out to be excellent! Elij was not as big a fan. I was happy to see spicy green beans with pork on the menu. That's one of my favorites. However, I was concerned that it might be too hot for him, so I asked the waitress. She shook her head and said, "Oh, no! Too hot, for sure, for him!" So, I also ordered rice noodles with pork and veggies, which turned out to be good, if bland. Elijah enjoyed eating the noodles, but his favorite thing was, if you can believe it, the green beans! He was looking at them so longingly that I decided to suck all the sauce and chile flecks from one and let him try. It didn't seem particularly spicy to me---and I am a spice wuss---so I thought it would be fine to let him try. He ate a bunch of them with great gusto and no ill effects! For dessert, we nommed on some red bean paste buns. I love me some red bean paste. Elijah was impressed, as well. 

For dinner that night, we tried to go to Espana for tapas. However, it was slammed and tiny. Luckily, I'd read good Chowhound reviews of Banana Leaf, just down the street and they had a table for us. We had roti with coconut curry sauce and excellent chicken satay with less-excellent, but still yummy sauce. I was not a fan of the roti, as it was a bit too sweet for me and I wanted it to have condensed milk on it if it was going to be sweet, but Jeannene and the boy were. I ate too much chicken to be very hungry for the pork side ribs I ordered, but the small portion I ate was good and the jasmine rice was perfect. Jeannene's rending beef curry, with coconut rice, was just right, as well. Okay, I need to be perfectly honest here. I could cheerfully have eaten my pork, had I not been intent on saving room for mango sticky rice. Am I ever glad I did, too! It was completely delectable. The mango was perfectly ripe. Oh, man. Elij adored it, too. We all three did. He'd had parts of both our dinners, but this was his fave, for sure. That boy is a huge mango fan. 

Thursday, Bear and I went exploring the Kitsilano neighborhood while Jeannene worked. We stopped in for lunch at Nelly's Grill, where the waitress was so very kind. She even offered to bring some blocks or other toys for Elijah. He was perfectly happy just eating, though. He had pancakes for the first time ever, fluffy silver dollar ones shaped like Mickey's head and bursting with plump blueberries. I had an omelet full of delicious meats & veggies. I did not take my sweetie boy to the beach there, even though I am dying to introduce him to the ocean. I want Jeannene to be there for his first time. I'd also like it to be in warmer climes so he can put his wee toes in!

Thursday evening, we planned to have dinner at Thierry Chocolaterie, Patisserie, and Cafe. We found parking right across the street, a table indoors, and everything. Sadly, they were out of sandwiches and savories. Deciding not to allow that to put a damper on things, I suggested we simply eat dessert first. So, we did---and it was great. Jeannene had a shortbread cookie with a coconut liquid chocolate. I had a glorious palmier with Basque chile liquid chocolate. Elij had a vanilla macaron---well, a great deal of one. His moms did pinch off a piece or two. Then, we ventured out into the streets to find dinner. 

We ended up at Pacifico Pizza, after considering and rejecting a number of other places. As soon as we walked in, we were swarmed by women who worked there, exclaiming over the baby. That was really sweet, but what really made an impression was the way it smelled in there! I knew immediately that our pizza would be stellar---and it was. We had terrific service and dinner was so, so good. We shared a pizza that was half margherita and half capriccios, with Genoa salami, ham, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and olives. The toppings were high quality and the crust was thin and chewy and delicious. 

Jeannene's conference was over Thursday, so we were able to enjoy one more day touring the city as a family. The event planner (me) had Stanley Park and the Vancouver Aquarium on the agenda. We ended up buying a membership at the Aquarium before we even walked in, since Jeannene's going to be spending a decent amount of time in the city. Elijah and I will be back, as well. We had a bite to eat before exploring. Elij really dug the black bean burger! He was less keen on the sea lions, once we started looking about the aquarium. I think the crazy roaring sort of noises made him nervous. He was, however, interested in the dolphin show. I think Jeannene's and my very favorite thing to see was the belugas. It was a great time! In the gift shop, we found an adorable sloth onesie for Elijah, a red jacket for Jeannene, and a pewter necklace and earrings with a First Nations artist's depiction of Raven on them for me. 

After the aquarium, we took a horse-drawn trolley tour of the park, with a stop at the totem poles (which were fascinating---each had a sign explaining the history and meaning) and a drop-off a lovely stroll through the woods from our car. We set our GPS for The Tomahawk Barbecue, assuming all the park's restaurants closed at 5. However, I decided, on a whim, to follow the "restaurants" sign further into the park, rather than the GPS' preferred road. It was a great whim to follow, as we ended up having a wonderful dinner (a shared cheese plate and roasted chickpeas as an appetizer, halibut for Jeannene, beef tenderloin for me, and a beautiful chocolate mascarpone cake with an almond wafer crust---some of everything for Elij, whose favorite was, by far, the chickpeas) at The Teahouse in Stanley Park, right by the water. Lovely service, cozy atmosphere. We'll definitely go back. 

Saturday, we flew home. I'd been spoiled by our not getting to sit together on the way there---affording me the opportunity for a nap and several chapters of my book, while Jeannene kept our wee boy entertained. I assumed I would be entertaining him on the way home, but he surprised us and slept almost the whole way, after looking out the window with great interest for awhile. We were also surprised not to have anyone else in our row! What bliss, in this age of consistently overbooked flights!

Jeannene very energetically made us supper Saturday night. I'd assumed we'd just grab something on the way home from the airport, but she made us country-fried steak with white gravy, mashed potatoes, and corn. A homey dinner for our first night home. 

Sunday, she had to work for several hours from home, so I hung out with the boy quite happily. At 2:30, though, she said she was ready to go on our B alphabet date, if we had time. We did, indeed. We spent the rest of the afternoon checking out Butterfly Pavilion. I've started a blog just for our alphabet dates, so you can read more about that at After our date, we came home and I made a pot of chili, corn muffins, and apple slices to dip in caramel.

Wednesday, March 09, 2016

Messy Church

Last night, our church held our first Messy Church. I've been interested in the Messy Church movement, which originated in the UK and has been gaining in popularity, for awhile now, but have never had the opportunity to experience it firsthand. You can learn more about it here. When I heard our fabulous faith formation director was taking it on, I was delighted!

Our wee one, at 4 months, isn't really old enough to participate in the activities of Messy Church, so he spent the time sleeping and being passed around the room. My wife had a committee meeting, so she wasn't able to join the Messy fun until after dinner. We all ate together (I am thrilled the menu planners chose pigs in blankets) and had questions for conversation around the table. Dessert was fascinating, stained glass Jell-o. I'd never seen or heard of it and was amazed at its appearance. It's white (sweetened condensed milk mixed with plain gelatin) with squares of different Jell-o colors in it! You can find directions here.We also heard the story of Holy Week, as presented through the use of objects hidden in eggs we got to choose and open when cued. My egg contained a die to represent the lots cast by the Roman soldiers for Jesus' clothing as he hung on the cross. I love dice!

After we ate, there were activity stations available for us to play. I first went to the station where Melissa was teaching us to make "resurrection rolls." You wrap a piece of crescent roll dough around a marshmallow (making sure there are no gaps through which you can see the marshmallow), then dip it in melted butter, then cinnamon sugar. Melissa wrote our names on cupcake papers and baked them for us (10-12 minutes in a preheated 375 degree oven will do it). Through the magic of the oven, the marshmallows "vanished," leaving the rolls as empty as the tomb on that first Easter morning. The rolls, however, were a lot yummier, although God's bringing good from a terrible tragedy was just as sweet.

Next, I went to the station Lisa was womanning, where we got to use fusible beads to create tiny crosses. I started out trying to make a cross that was all matchy-matchy, carefully choosing the colors. However, I decided I didn't like that look, so I undid my work and started again, randomly grabbing beads of various colors. You put the beads on a plastic sheet with bitty spikes to hold the beads in place, then you place some wax paper over the whole shebang and press down with a hot iron until the beads melt and fuse together. You could make all kinds of cool designs!

I watched (and greatly enjoyed) the little kids flinging paint around rather like Jackson Pollock, but opted not to participate, as I had not come dressed for serious messiness. Next time, I'll have to wear some paint clothes! My favorite thing about this was seeing Marilla, with flecks of paint all over her face, happily immersed in making her resurrection roll.

Next, I got to do one of my all-time favorite activities, coloring eggs! Jeannene joined me for this one and made a blue egg that said "Elijah" on it and had lines around it. It turned out really nicely. I drew a dragonfly on mine before dunking it into the purple dye. It's so hard to make a decent picture with a white wax marker on a white egg! I'm no great artist, but it's especially interesting when you can't see what you're doing. Matthew helped us by making sure our eggs didn't get messed up while drying.

Once we were done with art time, the kids got to whack the piñata, which looked like Mike Wazowski from Monsters, Inc. It was an extraordinarily sturdy piñata and it took some cheating by Lisa to get to the candy inside. She talked about the sweetness of Jesus' willingness to go to the cross in order to spread God's message of unconditional love and radical inclusion. The children were encouraged to share that sweetness with other people.

Finally, we gathered in a circle, everyone holding part of a length of green ribbon/rope. There was a basket of shorter ribbons for people to use for individual prayers, tied onto the large ribbon. We closed with prayer and then dispersed early enough that we could still swing by the grocery for the week's provisions. A wonderful time---I'm looking forward to next month's session!

On Coffee (an unedited 20-minute freewrite)

When I was a kid, the only coffee in our house was instant. I can’t remember what brand we had---I think Maxwell House---but my mom lived on it. She worked a hard schedule and then had to take my stepdad to work and pick him up, then start all over again, catching a few hours of sleep here and a few there. All while managing also to spend time with me and tote me to wherever I needed to be. What a woman! Seems like she at least deserved to have some good coffee. We never had a coffeemaker in our house, unless you count the stovetop espresso pot that I am not sure we ever used. I think that was actually mine. I have a newer version of it now, a sleek red, in which I can brew up some Cuban coffee when I’m missing Miami. If only Cuban bread were so easy to come by up here. When we were last in New Jersey, I got a loaf, but it’s just not the same up north.

My grandparents, on the other hand, had a Mr. Coffee drip coffeemaker when I was a kid and on up until they died. They retired fairly early and I remember coffee at a much more leisurely pace at their house. We’d all sit around the breakfast table talking in the mornings. My grandmom would make pancakes on her big griddle on Saturdays and there would be orange juice from concentrate for us kids. When I helped make it, the final product was always a little less intense, I think, because I loved to nibble on the still-mostly-frozen juice can contents before dumping them into my grandmom’s Tupperware juice container and mix, mix, mixing it up. I always thought juice glasses, those petite things, were ridiculous and took mine in the bigger green glasses or in one of the anodized aluminum cups in bright colors. We also had some plastic toy soldier cups, but mostly we used those in the tub.

Back in those days, my cousins lived close enough that we got to play together all the time. It was like having brothers. That was a good and a bad thing. They were fun to play with and they also tormented me, as most brothers do, summoning me to come see something cool they found (which would turn out to be a snake) or challenging one another to contests of who could pee farthest off the flat garage roof, a challenge I couldn’t take on.

When I was older, I would stay weekends and whole weeks with my grands. In seminary, I would sit at the breakfast table watching the birds with them. My granddad and I would tell each other what we’d dreamed about. Unlike my mom, who was strictly a black coffee girl, they both took it with cream. When I was a kid, I recall them having a cow creamer container, although that may have actually been for the milk. When I was breakfasting with them as an adult, they had milk for the cereal (very frequently some variety of Chex) in a speckled blue and white pitcher. It went into coffee, too. We would, if not having cereal, munch on toast with my granddad’s favorite orange marmalade.

Sometimes, they had to rush off to table tennis games, water workout, Ruth Circle or Bible Study at church. Other times, my granddad would head down to the basement to talk to his ham radio buddies or tinker away on some project of the house or car. I was always fascinated with his basement work room, lined with shelves full of old metal coffee cans, the sort we used to take on road trips to pee in. I once peed in a Folger’s can on the way up Pike’s Peak.

Anyway, Clydie’s cans were full of all kinds of interesting bits and pieces. Nails of every size and variety. Nuts and bolts. Magnets. Random small items he could magic into place to create all kinds of useful household items. He once made a toothbrush holder from PVC pipe and his cars all featured some kind of jerry-rigging he’d come up with to improve function. My mom still drives his old silver Ford Taurus, the one with the tricky bypass switch you have to turn on at just the proper time, in order to be able to start the car. Now, though, her coffee comes from a French press.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Water and Fire, Wheat and Chaff

Water and Fire, Wheat and Chaff 
A Sermon for Baptism of Christ Sunday
Offered at First Congregational Church, Rochester, Michigan 
January 10, 2016

Luke 3:15-22

15As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 17His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” 18So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. 19But Herod the ruler, who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother’s wife, and because of all the evil things that Herod had done, 20added to them all by shutting up John in prison.
21Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, 22and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” 

As many of you know, Jeannene and I have a new little baby, Elijah, in our household. He didn’t get out much before he had his first round of shots, but we did take him to the Christmas tree farm with us. There, a somewhat astonishing thing happened. One of the owners, who looked a great deal like the real Santa Claus to me, greeted us and admired Elijah. He talked to us about giving Elijah lots of love and thereby changing the world. The not-the-real Santa who was there also talked to us about how love, joy, and security, given to our baby, would give him the tools to change the world---the messages were very strong and beautiful that day.

Just before we left, the maybe-the-real Santa called us over for a hug. We talked more about Elijah and he introduced himself as Frank, Francisco, and said he was from Sicily and has traveled all over the world. Perhaps because I am a fan of the Latin American literary genre of Magical Realism or because I read too many fantasy novels, I actually pondered whether he could be St. Francis in disguise, even though Assisi is actually in Emilia-Romagna & not Sicily and, well, Francis is long-dead. Yes, silly, I know. But even if he was simply Frank, the tree farmer, his words of wisdom were taken to heart, as was his next action. This lovely man asked if it would be okay for him to bless Elijah with some water he brought home from a pilgrimage that included a visit to the River Jordan.

Well, who am I to refuse a blessing? We waited while Frank ducked inside to get his Jordan River water. Upon his return, he very gently and kindly anointed Elijah’s forehead and said a prayer of blessing over him. The end of the prayer touched my heart most deeply, as he asked that God make Elijah an instrument of God’s peace, a phrase from my beloved grandmom’s favorite prayer, the Prayer of St. Francis. We drove home with an extraordinarily beautiful Christmas tree and hearts full of gratitude for the kindness of this disciple of Christ.

Of course, when I started thinking about today’s story of Jesus’ baptism in the River Jordan, by his cousin John, the Jordan water blessing given to Elijah immediately came to mind. It wasn’t a baptism, but a simple blessing, asking that God use our wee boy to be a disciple, too. He’ll be baptized later this winter, but we already know that the Holy Spirit is with him and that he is God’s beloved child. The baptism will be our human recognition of the work the Holy Spirit is doing in Elijah. It will be our welcome to the community of the church and our promise to help him grow in his faith and learn to walk the path assigned by Jesus. It will be our recognition of him as a disciple.

You see, the term “disciple” doesn’t refer simply to the Twelve who walked with Jesus in his earthly ministry. It means, “one sent” and all of us who are baptized in Christ are sent to spread God’s message of love for the world. We’re all disciples, all God’s beloved children.  Some of us are lucky enough to have been given the gift of affirmation by our earthly parents. Others have never been affirmed by earthly parents. Know this: whatever you have heard or not heard in the way of affirmation from your earthly parents, you are beloved of and affirmed by God, just as you are.

Baptism, then, isn’t fire insurance. Baptism is a recognition of the working of the Holy Spirit that is already going on in each of us. It’s also initiation into the community of Christ followers seeking to do justice, love neighbor, be kind, live in humility. Look at the promises parents, godparents, and congregations make when an infant is baptized. Show love & justice, encourage her or him to renounce the powers of greed, hatred, selfishness, and oppression, receiving new freedom in the life of Jesus.

Baptism means we aim to live into God’s audacious vision of the world as it could be, rather than cower in fear at the world as it currently is. We are not only baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection, but into his way of being human, a way that defies cultural expectations and norms, a way gracious and loving to those on the margins, a way that basically turns things as we know them on their heads.

While the world around us sensationalizes all the things we have to fear, all the things that are wrong today, Christ would remind us that, as Tod O.L. Mundo states on his “Saturday Night Theologian” blog, because “God is seated on the throne, bringing order to the world, we do have hope, and we can share our hope with those who view the world as meaningless. In the midst of a world of poverty, war, terror, AIDS, unemployment, and hunger, followers of God must bring a message of hope to those who are suffering. Though things look chaotic now, and life seems to have no meaning, God is in control. In the name of God, let us proclaim a message of hope and make it our purpose in life to demonstrate that life has meaning for every inhabitant of the planet.”

If we, like Herod in the Epiphany text, are listening too closely to the voice of our fear, we can miss God’s still, small voice reminding us of all that love given to us, all the work to which we are called for the benefit of the kingdom of heaven. If we are looking too hard for danger and threats, we can miss the shining stars God places to light our paths. Our baptism calls us to tune out from fear and tune in to God’s voice.

Now, I’m not even going to pretend this is easy. It isn’t. Not at all. But it is necessary. Just as the fire of turmoil appears to be necessary. In today’s scripture, John the Baptizer speaks of Jesus as one who comes with a winnowing fork. He speaks of wheat being separated from chaff and Jesus’ flame ready to burn the chaff into nothingness. This passage is used by a lot of hellfire and damnation preachers as a warning to those of us who, in their eyes, need to straighten up and fly right, for fear of being burned when we are discovered not to be wheat, but only chaff, after all. For them, the burning is the deepest fires of hell (they must not have read Dante, who envisions the deepest circle of hell as frozen. He must have lived in Michigan in January and February) and God is sending all the unworthy there.

The God I know through the life of Jesus, though, is infinitely merciful and wise, so I don’t really believe that’s the intention of the burning of the chaff. Further, I did some research on the threshing process. First, the wheat heads are beaten to remove the grain from the stalk and to loosen the hard, dry protective shell from the outside of the grain. Then, they are (or were, back in Jesus’ time) tossed in the air with the winnowing fork to allow the wind to blow the chaff off the grain heads. The chaff was often burned, as the most expedient way to deal with it, since it isn’t digestible by humans. However, it is digestible by livestock, so it was sometimes added to their feed. It was also sometimes ploughed into the ground to enrich the soil. So, chaff isn’t even all bad. It can be useful.

My theory is that the chaff is the parts of ourselves and our lives which no longer serve us well and which hinder our participation in the work of discipleship. Sometimes, we need that hard shell of protection to keep us safe. Sometimes fear, to name just one characteristic that can be helpful or hindering, keeps us from doing something dangerous. Other times, fear can paralyze us or even spur us into taking harmful actions our rational brain wouldn’t take. When we have matured enough, like wheat grain, and grown out of the need for a particular fear, having Jesus winnow it out of our lives is a pretty great thing. It’s not a thing to be feared or a sign that God disapproves of us. Quite the opposite. God sees the potential we could reach, if the things that are not serving us well were removed. God loves us and loves the world, so we are given opportunities to grow and shed our chaff.

Another example comes from my blacksmith mama’s forge. Steel must be heated in order to make it hard enough that it doesn’t simply wear down quickly with use. However, when it’s not properly tempered, going through only one heat and then cooled rapidly by a plunge in the slack tub (a pretty gnarly tub of water kept in blacksmith shops for the purpose of cooling metal), it will be plenty hard, but too brittle. It won’t wear down from use, but it will break easily. Steel, heated twice and allowed to cool slowly and naturally on the anvil, becomes softer and stronger.

Think of that! Softer means stronger for metal. I think it’s the same for us humans. We need to have some hardening so we won’t just wear down---crisis, hard times, and tragedy are pretty good for hardening us, as are repeated news stories about horrible realities. I don’t for a moment believe that God creates these things to temper us, but they are a reality of life in our imperfect world, with all its free will. So, if we are able to take our time and fully recover from trauma and grief, rather than forcing ourselves---or being forced by society---to “get over it” more quickly than is natural, we become stronger.

However, if we are simply hard and not at all resilient, we become brittle and can break too easily. In order to be good, strong, durable tools employed by God in working for the kingdom of heaven here on earth, we have to also lose some of that hardness and allow some softness and vulnerability. Jesus, by asking to be baptized, is continuing to make himself vulnerable, as he did with his willingness to experience incarnation as a human baby. His baptism is another immersion into openness, into making himself one with us humans, into vulnerability. Jesus’ entire ministry, indeed, is built on vulnerability. Talk about turning the ways of society on their heads! To submit to baptism is to begin to live quite dangerously, to shed some of the protections of defensiveness and to live with open hearts.

Something else magical happens in the fire of the forge and under the hammer of the smith. Even in today’s world of steel that has supposedly had the impurities worked out of it before it hits the blacksmith’s door, some (as my mom says) “pretty wonky” steel, rife with impurities, comes through the blacksmith’s shop. However, forging forces the impurities out and, in my mom’s words, “they go zizzing out, as the hammer is striking, as miniature fiery comets.” As alarming as I find the prospect of metaphorically being put in the fire, then pounded between the steel of the hammer head and the steel of the anvil, I love the image of all my impurities being forced out and flying into the air as tiny comets, all ablaze. Perhaps I am, after all, okay with a certain level of trial by fire. Not so much it destroys me. Just enough to make me strong, soft, and resilient.

Jesus didn’t live a safe life, did he, avoiding conflict and following the rules? He didn’t keep his heart and his person armored so he would never come to harm. We don’t get that luxury, either, not if we are to follow him truly. So, in remembering and affirming our baptisms, we are reminded that, as Christians, we are called to act against injustice, strive for peaceful hearts and loving interactions with all (this takes practice!), and work to end oppression wherever we see it. A tall order, but one for which we are created, stronger than we realize, softer than we might be comfortable being, resilient enough to make a difference.