Summer if finally, and irrevocably here. As the temperatures rise, our gardens are burgeoning. Grocery stores, co-ops, and farmers markets full of fresh produce. We are doing our best to spend more time outside.
With the heat, our previous pandemic hobbies may be slackening. Namely baking. When Washington state’s stay-at-home orders began in March, I suddenly had more time to be at home with my work. I could begin to work on projects and activities that took time. For me, this meant a return to baking. There was just one hitch, I was out of yeast and there wasn’t any available in the stores.
My friend on the Idaho’s Palouse region, has been something of an amateur artisan baker for years. Well, amateur might be too soft a word considering the complex breads he was pulling out of the oven every few days. He had even gone so far in his obsession to buy some locally milled Palouse wheat flour. He wanted keep his bread as local as possible.
Which meant he made his own sourdough starter using local flour and water and the yeasts that formed in his home. You can let the eye-rolling begin. I certainly did. But my friend heard about my yeast predicament. He took some of his own starter, dried it out over several days, and mailed it to me.
I received a card that said “Here you go!” with a baggy of some crusty grey matter in it. Not a hopeful start to sourdough baking.
But my friend coached me via text and soon my sourdough starter was bubbling away. I made sourdough waffles, sourdough pancakes, sourdough muffins, sourdough banana bread and cornbread. I even mastered baking the overnight sourdough breads in my cast iron enamel pot.
Now my starter is resting in my fridge and only comes out to be fed or on a cool summer morning to help me bake.
What, you might be asking yourself, does baking have to do with church?
As it turns out, quite a bit. In the congregation I serve as a worship leader some Sundays, a church member bakes the communion bread each week. It is an act of service and love to the entire community. Before the pandemic, we each consumed the blessed bread as a community, becoming one body in Christ.
Communion, the celebration of the eucharist, the breaking of bread among friends remains the most joyful and intimate part of my “church” experience. Jesus did not celebrate the Last Supper by himself. He was eating with his friends. And in that same spirit, communion is not meant to be practiced alone. We share the bread and the cup together.
Or we did until the pandemic. Now we find ourselves in our homes, alone or with family members. Some of us are watching church on Facebook Live, or YouTube. Some of us are going to church services or virtual coffee hours on Zoom. Or maybe just for a hike and some quite reflection time until we can “get back to church.”
Make no mistake, I want to get back to church too. I want to see all of you, be with all of you, and experience face-to-face worship. Without fear. But for now, we remain cautious. We are all doing our part not to spread the coronavirus in our communities. We worship at a distance, either digitally or from 10 feet away in our churches. In person communion, for now, seems to be off the table. And probably for quite some time.
So, we do the best we can. We live in today’s circumstance and hope for tomorrow. We try to cultivate our patience rather than our hurry or worry or the “I just don’t care anymore” attitude that comes so easily these days. What some people are calling COVID fatigue.
There is quite a theological debate happening right now about whether you can have “virtual” communion or not. This is when a minister or pastor blesses and breaks bread in “real time” at home, while you have your own bread in your home. Some say it doesn’t count. Some say it does. This is debate I will leave to theologians and denominations to have.
The point is, as we find new ways to worship and come together, we may find new ways to break bread with one another as well. New ways to connect, celebrate and care for one another as the body of Christ. And we must. Because we are the church. Right now, in our homes. Right now, in the world.
We have confused worshiping together with a particular group of people as “the church.” We thought that meeting in a special building made us “church.” But it doesn’t. Because we, in the present circumstances of our lives, are the church. Right now. Right here.
And we are still called to care for one another. To love one another. To be the hands and feet and living body of Jesus in the world. Even if we are asked to do so from 6 feet away. Or in masks. Or on our computers and from our phones.
This weekend, my husband and I met another couple for dinner at a park. The weather was glorious. We sanitized the picnic table. We sat 6 feet apart. We brought our own food. But we laughed together. We gossiped. We shared our lives. We fed a squirrel. I truly believe that God was present among us and between us. In the sharing. In the breaking of the bread. In that togetherness.
So to with you. So too with all of us. So long as we are looking for it. So long as we are reaching toward it. So long as we continue to pray for and bless and love one another.
