Thursday, June 13, 2013

The Theology of Soup

I am making soup tonight.

The process is an art form (channel your inner VanGogh with me for a minute). Saute onions and fresh-chopped garlic in rich, yellow butter...

At this point you can choose to just stop and eat, because this is perfection in a pan, right  here, people. My love affair with onions gets a little out of hand, I'll admit. I can't resist.

...otherwise, you can add some other veggies like carrots, mushrooms, peppers, cook and douse with seasonings. Add some homemade chicken stock you cooked the day before (this is a MUST for anyone who cares about flavor, health or their pocketbook- that covers everyone, right?) and simmer. Simmer. Simmer some more. Then you get to lean over the pot, breathe in the deep aromas, feel like you brought world peace and solved the earth's hunger problem all with a handful of vegetables.



There is an element of magic in making something out of nothing. Whatever unused produce is in the fridge. Left-over meat or rice. Turning it into a full and appetizing meal and filling my kids' bellies with nutrients. It's a primal ritual. Satisfying, not only to our stomachs, but right down deep to the soul.

Soup-making and people-feeding has become the core of my faith and every day life. I could recommend more than a handful of amazing books that have helped me put these ideas into words and works- books like Take This Bread by Sara Miles and Bread & Wine by Shauna Niequist top the list. I'm apparently not alone in my sentiments. We have dubbed Thursday evenings 'Soup Night', when I make a big pot and welcome anyone and everyone to join us for a simple supper. It is good to practice what you preach. I'm taking baby steps in this department.

Tonight I plan on using up some potatoes and squash, a bunch of cilantro that has lingered a few days in the crisper. My goal is to let nothing go to waste! Why throw it away when you could turn it into a new meal? I aspire to be as passionate about resourcefulness and stewardship as I am about flavor and nutrition. I suppose that requires discipline and practice as well, like any good thing.

When Jesus fed the five thousand, he took the few loaves of bread and fish and distributed to everyone and they were satisfied. As if that weren't miracle enough, afterward he said to his disciples, “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.”  So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the leftover bread.

God always uses the bits and pieces of us that we think are useless, that we would otherwise just throw out. But God is Master Artist and Chef- the Creator of all good things- and nothing, I mean NOTHING is wasted. Not even our flaws. Not even our garbage. Instead, God makes things new. Breathing life into dust. Speaking light into darkness. Beauty from ashes. You get the picture.

Make something simple and beautiful today, share it and be nourished.

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God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature. That is why He uses material things like bread and wine to put the new life into us. We may think this rather crude and unspiritual. God does not: He invented eating. He likes matter. He invented it. --C.S. Lewis




3 comments:

  1. I read this a week ago, and only today am taking the time to comment.
    Dear friend, I appreciate you so. Not only your creativity in making soup (because it is creativity, given by the Creator, for the purpose of creating more) but for your friendship. For long talks, and laughter, and story time. And all of it shared over a bowl of soup. So simple. So tender. So sweet. (Or spicy... ;D) I love Soup Group. Or Soup Night. Or whatever we're calling it these days. I love being a part of it all.

    You should take a look at John 21. There is something there for this conversation.

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  2. it's like you've written what's in my head and heart. the table, the soup, the bowls shared is so much bigger, bolder, and more changing than we realize. great post.

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    Replies
    1. Kindred spirits, I think...those who see something sacred in our food.

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