Such a simple, but lovely poem...

Autumn
T. E. Hulme
 
A touch of cold in the Autumn night—
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer. 
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.

My mom's arrival last week brought a bushel of tomatoes from my Indiana sister, Shari. Straight from the garden, they were picked green before the frost caught them, and ripened during the few days before they actually made it to my kitchen. After putting two canners away (14 quarts) I had three leftover yogurt containers that I needed to do something with. So I pulled out another old family stand-by and whipped up some chili, Cincinnati style.

I didn't know about Cincinnati chili until we visited some friends we had met in Chile (South America) back stateside where they lived in, you guessed it, Cincinnati. Skyline Chili is perhaps the most famous brand in the city, and one of the things that makes their chili unique is that the beans are added later along with Cheddar cheese, onions and served over spaghetti.

I must admit, I don't do the whole skyline thing. I put in the beans while simmering. And since I grew up putting chili over baked potatoes, sometimes we do that. (A quick, healthy option at Wendy's, by the way, if you're traveling over dinner time.) Other times, like last night, it topped a green salad along with the green onions and cheese.

The second unusual thing about this recipe is the addition of chocolate (!) and cinnamon which gives a fairly dark, complex flavor. Here's the recipe for those of you wanting to try something new. (And a confession - this is not a picture of my chili, as we ate it before I thought to grab a photo. But it looked just as yummy, I promise!)

Cincinnati Chili

2 T oil
2 large onions, peeled and chopped
2 pounds ground beef
2 t minced garlic
2 c beef broth
1 c barbecue sauce
2 T chili powder
1 t salt
1 ounce (1 square) unsweetened chocolate
1 t cinnamon
1/2 t allspice (I usually omit these)
1/4 t ground cloves (and these)
1/2 t pepper
2 c tomato juice (I substituted canned tomatoes and food processed some celery)

To serve:
1 pound cooked spaghetti
1 can (16 oz) red kidney beans, drained, rinsed and heated
1 pound shredded Cheddar cheese
1 1/2 cups chopped onions (I used green onions here)
Oyster crackers (don't

Heat the oil in a skillet and add the onions, ground beef and garlic til brown. Put in a larger saucepan and add remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, then simmer uncovered for about an hour, stirring occasionally and adding more juice is mixture is too thick. ( I add the beans in with the rest of the ingredients).

To serve, ladle on top of the spaghetti, and top with beans, cheese, onions and crackers.

"Jesus called them together and said, "You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Mark 10: 42-45)

I totally resonate with the disciples who come to Jesus and ask to have an important role in the kingdom of God. Because, to be really honest, I, too, would like to be great. I mean, in my obit I would like there to be a sentence that mentions an accomplishment that's pretty earth-shattering. And what I like about Jesus' statements in this passage from Mark is that He doesn't have a problem with this desire, doesn't say that it's selfish in some way.  

No, Jesus just uses this audacious request of James and John as another teaching moment. You see, greatness is actually a good thing to want, because God is great, and following Jesus is the path toward becoming one with God. It's just that one of the things that makes God so great is that God serves. David saw this combination clearly, as in Psalm 68 where his song has this phrase:

Sing to God, sing in praise of his name,
extol him who rides on the clouds;
rejoice before him—his name is the Lord

which is followed later in the second (or third) verse by this:

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior,
who daily bears our burdens.

Later song writers also linked these concepts of service and greatness together, as is evidenced in Philippians when Paul encourages the new Christ-followers to become like Christ by quoting this song:

Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God 
something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death
even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

By encouraging his disciples to become servants, Jesus is not relegating them to second class citizenship. Rather, he is offering the invitation to follow his own path
to greatness. This also ensures that the Spirit which will live within his followers will be able to follow the modus operandus of the Godhead - that of service.

It's true that we serve FOR God. It's also true that we serve LIKE God. But what's truly empowering is that we serve WITH God. Jesus modeled this. It's what made him great - and there's plenty of room for greatness in his kingdom! 

I'm taking a fall break this week - my mom's in town, so we'll be running around visiting family, canning tomatoes, making applesauce, etc. Back next Monday.

Today's post is in honor of all those who struggle with mental illness and still create, still find ways to bless those around them. I'm grateful for the years of medical research which offers hope that was not available to those who, like Van Gogh, suffered through anxiety and other forms of mental illness throughout most of his adult life. Grateful also that my friends, like Van Gogh, do not give up offering the world their gifts in the midst of depression, anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder and other conditions they have battled or continue to battle. I admire you all so much!

This video was created by Tony DiFratta, an artist who worked for years at the Mississippi State Hospital, teaching art to patients with mental illness. You can find more about him and his art here.

Now that fall is officially here, I'm back in the cooking mode, especially when it comes to soups and stews. My daughter Kara and I have a goal to make a soup a week for go-to lunches and dinner on the run. Here are two standbys that feature lentils, a good source of inexpensive protein. One is from a college roommate  (don't have to tell you how long that's been in my recipe file!) and one from a professor friend. Is there a theme here? The first is tomato based and more like a stew, while the second is lighter and uses marjoram, giving it a fresh taste. In both recipes, you may want to play with the consistency by adding a bit more water or broth.

Lentil Vegetable Soup

2 c lentils
5 c water
1/2 c onion
1/2 c celery
1/2 c carrots
3 T parsley
1 clove garlic (1/2 t prepared garlic)
2 1/2 t salt
1/4 t pepper
1/2 t oregano

Put all ingredients in large pot and simmer for 1 1/2 hours.

Add:
1 can (28 oz) tomatoes, diced
2 T vinegar

Simmer another 1/2 hour. Serve hot.


Crystal's Lentil Soup

2 c lentils
5 c water
2 t salt
1/2 t pepper
2 t basil
1 onion, chopped
4 carrots, chopped

Simmer for 1 1/2 hours.

Add:
1 lb kielbasa, cut in small rounds
2 t marjoram
1 box frozen spinach (optional)

Simmer additional 30 minutes.

Note: We are trying to go with organic meat, so I used chicken/feta/spinach sausage that I had cooked up earlier and put it in at the last minute.

Note: This essay was guest posted yesterday at Better Living Through Beowulf, a blog hosted by my friend Robin Bates. Robin, who teaches at St. Mary's College in Southern Maryland, takes his depth of knowledge as a literature prof and interweaves it with contemporary issues, encouraging us along with his students to ponder how great literature can help us grow and flourish.

Today many Christian churches celebrate World Communion Sunday. Communion, or the Eucharist, has its roots in the Jewish Passover feast, which Jesus celebrated with his disciples on the night before the betrayal that led to his death. In a rented room, surrounded by the twelve, Jesus broke bread and passed around the second cup of wine, reforming a familiar ritual by offering a fresh midrash to his actions. The bread was now representative of his body, which would be sacrificed for them. The wine was his blood, signifying a new arrangement with God. From now on, his followers were to remember not the exodus from Egypt – Israel’s meta-narrative– but Jesus’ upcoming death, which would enable their own exodus from lives dominated by separation and powerlessness.

In Holy Communion, George Herbert, the 17th century priest and religious poet reflects on his experience of taking the bread and wine.

Not in rich furniture, or fine array
Nor in a wedge of gold,
Thou, who for me wast sold,
To me does now thy self convey,
For so thou should’st without me still have been,
Leaving within me sin.

But by the way of nourishment and strength
Thou creep’st into my breast,
Making thy way my rest,
And thy small quantities my length,
Which spread their forces into every part,
Meeting sin’s force and art.

Christ could have conveyed himself to us as a King, Herbert imagines, seated on rich furniture, dressed in royal robes, crowned with a golden diadem. But if it were to kingship Jesus had aspired when he came to earth two thousand years ago, he would have stayed distant, powerful and yet “without.” This regal other would have had no impact upon Herbert’s inner life, “leaving within [him] sin.” But through his death, Christ comes to him by “the way of nourishment and strength” - bread and wine, which are his body and blood. These small quantities are able to act as antibiotics, spreading their way into the length of his body and diminishing sin’s “force and art.” 

Still, Herbert wonders if this is enough.

Yet can these not get over to my soul,
Leaping the wall that parts
Our souls and fleshy hearts;
But as th’outworks, they may control 
My rebel flesh, and carrying thy Name
Affright both sin and shame.

Only thy grace, which with these elements comes,
Knoweth the ready way,
And hath the privy key,
Op’ning the soul’s most subtle rooms;
While those to spirits refin’d, at door attend
Dispatches from their friend.

It seems as if Herbert is after more than healing, more than pardon from his religion. Even if he has been forgiven from past wrongs and been given power to live in ways that are honorable, the heart still yearns for more. The soul’s subtle rooms are waiting to be unlocked. Will grace come and offer a divine friendship, filled with intimate communication? 

As Fiona Sampson asks in her poem Communion

If I’m you, or you me-
Interpenetrating God-
Enlarge our intimacy.

Becoming one with God infers intimacy. Just as the wine and bread become a part of the person who eats them, so God, interpenetrating the self, becomes part of me, as I am part of God. This is what Jesus is at when he tells his disciples upon leaving the last supper that, after his death and resurrection they will “know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you.” 
 
This coming together, engaging in communion, has a third element, however. Not only are we made whole within ourselves, not only joined with the Divine, but as we take communion we connect with a community that stretches across the globe, and moves freely through thousands of years. The spiritual nature of this community makes it seem in some ways virtual, but that doesn’t mean it is not real.

I was reminded of the possibility of unity across cultures and continents as I listened to a TED talk by Eric Whitacre this week. Whitacre, a choral composer and conductor received a youtube clip from a young musician who wanted him to hear her singing the soprano line of a piece he’d written. Touched, and a bit intrigued, he sent out an open invitation to any musician to upload a video of themself singing their part in the song Sleep. He also put up clips of himself directing, as well as a piano accompaniment, so the singers could keep time.

Several months later, he had over 500 respondents and a volunteer to mix the piece. The result was a collaboration resulting in a choir who had never met each other. One conductor, one piece, one technician (a nod here to the Holy Spirit, I think) and the result was a unified whole, different parts and harmonies from around the world blended into one.

Communion – the many becoming one. It seems impossible, but it’s not. It’s the goal of a God who is offering an open invitation to join the Godhead. There is one caveat, however. The only way this all works is if those who respond, who take communion, remember. Remember that Jesus came to earth because of Divine Love, loving us enough to give his own body and blood. Remember that it is this love that heals and empowers and then connects us not only with God but also the others who live in love. We need to remember, and then live from that love, nourished by what “creepest into my breast, making thy way my rest.”  

Are you wishing you could visit an amazing art show this weekend, but can't get away from the house? Check out the homepage of Artprize, a one-of-a-kind art show put on yearly in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I had never heard of this art show until my friend Sybil mentioned it to me a few weeks ago. She'd been attending for several years and this year a friend of hers was entering a piece.

There are several things that make ArtPrize unique. First, the cash awards (and they total over 500 thousand dollars) are chosen by a combination of popular and juried vote. Unfortunately, this post comes too late to give you a chance to vote, (that ended last night at 11:59) but there's always next year. Voting happens through the website, which has pictures of each piece of art with links to the artist statement as well as some bio information.

Art can be installed anywhere in Grand Rapids; those places which can offer a venue connect up with artists needing a place to display in the months prior to the show's opening. When opening day rolls around the entire city, both indoors and out becomes an art gallery - this year's entries came to a total of 1517!

I spent a little while looking through this year's contributions and here are some that caught my eye. Each is linked to the site for additional information.

Richard Morse, whose sculpture made it into the Top 10, is a cancer survivor. The horses, rising out of the water symbolize "the struggles and perseverance, the simple grace yet powerful attitude that everybody needs in difficult situations." Each horse is created from fallen branches, bringing "nature back to life."

Nnamdi Okonkwo was born in Nigeria and came to BYU-Hawaii to play basketball, but he was always drawn to art. His chosen medium, sculpture, gives him a way to express the "beauty and nobility that is in humanity." The female figures in this piece were chosen since Okonkwo feels that women best "exemplify the noble virtues such as serenity, love, hope, humility, charity, and inner strength, which enable us to face and transcend the adversities of life."

Lynn Johnson collected tea bags from those cups shared with family and friends to create this mixed media piece of art which measures 10.5 feet high by 5.5 feet wide. Johnson feels that "recording and lending significance to individual social interactions," allows her to "celebrate the value of the personal connection that is achieved through our everyday social routines and rituals." I love how the lighting creates warmth through the tea bags, mimicking the comfort we often feel when having a cup of tea or coffee with a friend.

Carol Shelkin "works with the constant rhythmic sounds of breaking glass" as she creates her stained glass works of art. Drawn to portraits, she is especially intrigued by eyes, and seeks to capture unique moments. The rich infusion of color and wide variation of tones drew me to this piece.

A few weeks ago we spent the weekend at Eagle's Mere, a historic resort community located in the Endless Mountains of Pa. As we were driving with our host to a waterfall, he pointed out this great apple sculpture along the road. I'd forgotten I'd taken the picture, but found it just in time to grace my apple post.

Here are two recipes you might enjoy. The first is easy and gluten-free (perfect for the drop of a hat dessert). The second took a little time, but was a great smash for a friend's gathering, where we spent the evening enjoying good conversation, amazing food, sparkling sangrias - seated around a firepit waiting for the rise of the full moon. Need I say more?

True - it's not the greatest picture, but we ate half of this before I remembered to take a shot. I think it's still warm! The recipe comes out of a More With Less Cookbook (a Mennonite publication) but I've altered it a bit, so there's less sugar, more of the crunchy stuff and no gluten.

Apple Crisp

Preheat oven to 475
Combine and put in greased casserole:
4 c sliced apples
1 T rice flour or potato starch
1 t cinnamon
1/8 t salt
1 T water

Cut together with pastry blender (I always just smoosh it up with my fingers in a bowl)
1 c rolled oats (I like old fashioned)
1/2 t salt
1/4 c butter
1/3 c brown sugar

Sprinkle on top of casserole mixture. Bake 35 minutes.
Optional: you can also add pecans to the crumb topping, or raisins in with the apples.

Serve warm with ice cream.

For the second recipe, Alsatian Apple Tarts, I'll send you to the website where I found these. The only thing I would change is that there is enough filling to make 6 tarts, so go ahead and make up two extra from the four she recommends. Otherwise, I followed the recipe just as she had it, and they were indeed, amazing!

 

Everyone will be salted with fire... Have salt among yourselves, and be at peace with each other. (Mark 9:49,50)

For my summer reading I gulped down the Inheritance Cycle, a series of 4 fantasy books written by Christopher Paolini. The world Paolini creates is populated with elves, dwarves, humans, and dragons. The latter have been in short supply ever since the current king, Galbatorix, turned traitor to the company of Dragon Riders, slaying them all (men and their dragon steeds/companions), and stealing the three remaining dragon eggs. Eragon, a young man of questionable birth (no surprise there!) mysteriously receives a dragon egg which then hatches for him. Shocked to find he is a Dragon Rider now, Eragon embarks on a quest to avenge his grandfather's death, ultimately ridding the world of the evil monarch.

Galbatorix, whose strength is enhanced by the life force of former dragons, is not only a master wizard, but has surrounded himself with strong wards, making it almost impossible for the young Eragon and his friends to defeat the powerful king. Time is running out and all looks hopeless as Eragon, facing the king, knows he is about to die. Powerless to fight against Galbatorix, he instead finds himself wishing that the king would just be able to feel the pain of all the people he has harmed over the years - dragons and their Riders, other kings he has met in battle, the commoners who have been systematically destroyed by powers he's unleashed. This wish transforms itself into a spell, and, to Eragon's amazement, the king begins to writhe in agony. The pain is so great he cannot bear it. Finally, in desperation, Galbatorix speaks a spell of unmaking and destroys himself.

Perhaps having read this story helps me make sense of Jesus' strange words in this week's Gospel reading from Mark, chapter 9.

“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them if a large millstone were hung around their neck and they were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life crippled than to have two feet and be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell, where
 
“‘the worms that eat them do not die,
and the fire is not quenched.'" 

Part of my personal journey theologically in the past several years has been cutting a path up the steep doctrine of hell. Like many other Christians I've read books by various pastors/theologians questioning whether hell is "real," or just figurative, whether it occurs here or in an afterlife, and if it does exist after death, whether those who are there are condemned to "conscious, eternal punishment" or will, after a period of time, be welcomed into the kingdom of God, thus allowing "all" things to be brought into the reign of God.

The ledge I am now camped on sees hell as literal and figurative, both here and now, and then and there. Although the fire and the worm never die (whatever that  means), I don't believe that human punishment goes on for eternity. Rather, I see hell as more of a place (dimension) where those who have refused to live their lives under the banner of love, neglecting the forgiveness that God freely offers, are sent while they deal with the consequences of their lives. In this way it functions much like the debtor's prison where the king in the parable throws the ungrateful servant until every last penny is paid. What happens after that is still unclear. Perhaps people are then allowed into the new heaven and new earth, or face annhilation. (See Matt 18:21-35 and 25:31-46).

There's no doubt that actions have consequences. Walk into any psychologist's or therapist's office and see the hard work required to rebuild a soul that has been crushed or twisted due to relational unkindness, or downright evil. Our sense of fairness says that the perpetrators of these wounds should not go unpunished. But what interests me is those families of victims who say, "I would just like the person who murdered my daughter to feel the pain that I am feeling now. Forget about prison, the death sentence. Nothing can make a difference. But if they could feel what I feel, somehow that would make it right."

And so I wonder if that might be what happens to those whose lives continue on a trajectory of self-indulgence, unconcerned about how their life choices have affected others. Living as if they were the only people who mattered - their comfort, their power, their pleasure - along the way they have left bruised and battered people. They have, as Jesus says, "caused a little one to stumble." And according to this authoritative rabbi, it would have been better for them had they never lived. Like the evil Galbatorix in Paolini's novel, perhaps it's facing the pain that they have caused that will make them weep and wail. Maybe the gnawing of worms will be a welcome relief from the mental pain and anguish as face after face comes into view, and all the resulting emotions flood into the psyche.

If this is the case, no wonder Jesus' words, which seem absurd, might be not as strange as they first appear. If the results of one's sin will be so drastic, then taking up drastic measures makes perfect sense. In the long run, which pain would you rather endure? Of course, I don't believe that Jesus really wants us to cut off our appendages, or gouge out our eyes, but it is scary that maiming and death by drowning would be preferable to what waits for those who continue in sin.

There's good news, of course. We can choose to take Jesus' admonition to save our lives by losing them, in essense dying sooner than later. C. S. Lewis says that the hard part about Christianity is that we can't do it halfway. God is after nothing less than all of us. There's plenty of grace along the way, and love which covers a multitude of sins. Still, there is a part we play, we make the tough choices to keep dying to those things which keep us from living wholly out of love. That's what I think Jesus means when he says, "have salt in yourselves." With the power of the Spirit and our own fearlessness, we can find ourselves living in peace, starting here and now.