Basic Goodness...Chocolate

And on a lighter note…

Yes, I’ve been a little heavy lately so today’s post will be devoted to the beauties of one of life’s most wonderful gifts: chocolate. I think chocolate is part of basic goodness. A term oft used in Tibetan Buddhism, “basic goodness” describes the natural Buddha nature of people. While I have my own theology regarding human nature, original sin, etc, I do think chocolate is one of those good things in life that rises above morality.

As I stood in my kitchen the other day eating some home-made chocolate mousse that one of my sons made for me for Valentine’s Day, I had to force myself to eat it slowly and calmly – as opposed to wolfing it down with perpetually rotating wrist, dipping into the glorious goo and swiveling back up to my mouth. The popular book French Women Don’t Get Fat came to mind and I pretended to be French, savoring each bite, appreciating the pleasure of the chocolate flavor. Eating slowly is, I understand it, part of the French way of eating unlike the American way of inhaling food. Why is it that sometimes rich chocolate can sometimes be like crack – just can’t get it in fast enough. I’m happy to say I only had half a ramekin and stopped thereafter. Okay, that was all there was left so I didn’t have a choice, but I did feel satisfied and wasn’t craving more. After all, mousse is rich and this particular recipe has just two ingredients fabuleuse: dark chocolates and heavy cream. Does it get any better than that?

Chocolate gives me endorphins; I’ll take that over the Stairmaster any day, even if I don’t have a smokin’ bod. Studies have shown that chocolate can release certain neurotransmitters, the happy ones like endorphins and other opiates that reduce stress and lead to feelings of euphoria. And all the wonderful news about dark chocolate actually having antioxidants and being healthy is so very welcome to chocoholics, I mean Lovers of the Cocoa Bean. And yes, I know it's supposed to be 70% cold-pressed cocoa made with unprocessed, unalkalized (whatever that is) cacao, and natural unprocessed sweeteners to be truly beneficial.
We want the antioxidants not the fat and calories.Yadayadayada..

Mousse is loaded with all of the above, the good and the evil (fat, calories). But the great thing about mousse is it’s so very rich that you can’t have too much or you’ll live to regret it.

So, thanks be to God for His gift of chocolat and we can be like those femmes Française and indulge in little bits sans guilt.

Pourquois pas?

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Called to the Torah

We were all very Jewish last weekend.

Invited to attend the bar mitzvah of one of our son’s best friends, we got to witness this boy become a “son of the commandments” and take his place in the Jewish community as a man, we experienced the beauty and majesty of ancient traditions.

Not that this was my first time in a synagogue. I’ve been to Shabbat services and bar and bat mitzvahs. But each time I enter a sanctuary, it’s like I’m there for the first time again – speechless, enthralled, absorbed in the pathos of Jewish history. And the music, the chants, the reverence for the Torah scrolls, and the God who holds a special place in His heart for His people. I (who almost never cry) am reduced to tears nearly every time.

We entered the service with quiet timidity, the boys in their yarmulkes, and found our seats in the pew with about 20 other students and parents from our son’s school. Most all of us from the school community are not Jewish and this was an education for many. Despite the very long service, many of the students followed along in the worship manual and the Bibles as the scriptures were read, in both Hebrew and English.

As his friend read and chanted his Torah and Haftarah portions surrounded by supportive clergy and family and enshrouded in his tallit prayer shawl, we marveled at his proficiency in Hebrew and the inflection of the chant melodies.

I’m always amazed at the multigenerational the family involvement; everyone plays a part. Lifting out the Torah scrolls from the ark, carrying the scrolls, holding them open for reading, leading a hymn singing praises, or offering prayers.

The Cantor’s rich baritone carried out into the space guiding our voices in worship. The beautiful melodies and liturgy illustrates the drama through time and how God has done mighty things.

Sometimes it’s hard to get my mind around the history with all its suffering, persevering, and flourishing, and then suffering, persevering and flourishing again. From subtle discriminatory comments to global massacres, our Jewish brothers and sisters have put one foot in front of the other through the Diaspora, the Middle Ages, pogroms in Russia, the Holocaust, even the Protestant South (oops, did I write that or did I just think it?) To know they have practiced many of these faith traditions, whether freely or in secret under cover, for over 4,000 years, boggles my mind.

Exploring the Jewish roots of my faith always expands my worldview. It reminds me that God is moving through time and space, and in this Advent season we are all awaiting a universal Shalom from One who can heal this broken world.



Advent-ure

Pardon the goofy title. Advent is an adventure though -- it is so counter-culture. It’s all about pushing back the tidal wave of societal pressure to rush, to do, to buy… and instead carve out a way to just BE. It doesn’t fit with our lifestyle here in the West. Advent is about waiting, being quiet, longing for the Light.

Even without the frenzied “Twenty-one shopping days left until Christmas!” headlines on the evening news, throughout the rest of the year we still live by “to-do” lists half a mile long, multi-tasking, and crazy busyness. And before the last Thanksgiving dinner dish is washed and dried, the Christmas decorations are coming out. This year, in some neighborhoods near my home where apparently there is a contest to see whose house will win the most bedecked award, there appeared gargantuan inflatables and enough string lights to gratify the power company – and they were up around November 22nd. I had to look away when I drove by. Did Jesus really want this when He came down to earth as a babe of humble beginnings?

History and ritual play a part in our family’s celebrations of the seasons of the Christian year, or “sacred time” as a friend of mine has coined it. As believers have done since the sixth century, we try to lie low during at least the first part of December (despite having two birthdays occurring during the holidays – great family planning, huh?) and focus on the quiet preparatory aspects of the season. The liturgical year begins with Advent, and as we move through each of the year’s spiritual seasons, we participate in the drama that illustrates the story of our faith.

Many nights at dinner time, one of the children lights an Advent candle and says “Come Lord Jesus into our midst”. Much like the Jewish lighting of Shabbos candles to usher in the Sabbath each week, we invite God’s spirit to join us (and help keep peace with three boys) for our evening meal.

Also, among the many Christmas stories we read this month, we also revisit the Advent portion of a children’s book on keeping the seasons of the church year – mainly with my youngest son as the others feel too old. It’s a delightful, well-illustrated book called Come Worship with Me: A Journey through the Church Year.

It’s a story of a little mouse who narrates for the reader telling about his sacramental experiences at his church and what it means for his faith.

Finally, a new tradition we’re beginning this year is the daily lighting of the Cradle to Cross wreath created by Ann Voskamp’s son Caleb. We’re moving the figurine of Mary on the donkey forward a step each day and light candles in the holder that correspond with the days.

I listen to Early Music (meaning music from early times up to the Renaissance – 16^th century) in the car and often in the evenings by the fire. It takes me out of his century, this decade, this culture just for a bit and reminds me to see the world in the larger scope of history. I feel like I connect with people of ages past who lived in harsher circumstances yet struggled to find ways to live with meaning. Then I can return to the present with a greater sense of His presence.

All of these rituals allow us to use our senses to experience our faith and see God's promises through time season in and season out, walking through the cycles. These little things help us keep the pace of Advent, which is far slower than the secular Christmas holiday. We women especially fall in to a mad rat race, becoming burdened with the myriad tasks of baking, shopping, cleaning, shuttling, dressing, partying, decorating, entertaining, more shopping, volunteering in the classroom or church or the community, giving and more giving... It’s a production we mount for an entire month. Too much for a lot of us.  

  

Let’s slow down and listen and be, so we can rediscover the light in the darkness.

Linking up with Charity Singleton at Wide Open Spaces for the Advent writing project she’s hosting at The High Calling and with Laura Bogess at The Wellspring.

Gratitude List

Expressing gratitude has the power lift us out of anger, fear, anxiety, self pity and a host of other maladies. 

Yes, it’s that time of year – the proverbial retelling of our American story. Some families do the round-the-table recitations. Many of us show our gratitude by stuffing our faces with food and then zoning out in a carb coma in front of football. From turkey skin to pig skin. Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, in a “Saturday Night Live” skit called it a “Baroque festival of overconsumption”. The great American tradition.

I’m trying to go deeper. Each Thanksgiving week, I read the story to at least one of the children and to myself and talk about how it really was for the Pilgrims. I never tire of rereading the accounts, and never cease to be amazed and overwhelmed at how raw and arduous life was on a daily basis. I wonder how many of them silently wondered, never to speak aloud: “Was it worth this?” as they shivered in the cold, got sick on the wobbly ship before the houses were built, or watched another member die of sickness that first winter:

When I see suffering or experience it myself, either presently or learn of it in the past, I am starting to make gratitude lists to remind me of the goodness that still exists to keep me from sinking into melancholy that takes too long to emerge from. When I write them out to share in a blog, they sound so trite. They’re different each time and don’t all encompass everything I’m grateful for.

But here’s my humble, short list, for today:

1. For the wondrous changing of leaves in autumn. To me, it means relief.
2. For music that can stir a heart that has stiffened in trying to protect itself from pain.
3. For weather cold enough to make me need socks and sweaters.
4. For the familiar warmth of a fire in the fireplace.
5. For a society free enough to express praise, criticism, new ideas.
6. For the way caring people send food – always food, our sustenance – to those who are suffering.
7. For the simple lessons of Charlie Brown.
8. For the unconditional love of dogs.
9. For “The Splendid Table” on NPR radio on Saturday mornings.
10. For my three children, who remind me of what it’s like to be a child: the joys, the wounds, the freshness of living.
11. For tufts of hair sticking out from under the ruffled covers.
12. Yes, for mismatched socks lying around on the floor. There was a time when I would have paid big money just to have little bodies in the house to cause extra laundry.
13. For servicemen and women who put their lives on the line daily to keep us free.
14. For “Saturday Night Live” which makes fun of everything.
15. That God can be found in the midst of chaos.

What does your gratitude list look like?