A little over a year ago my friend, visiting from across the country, brought me these gifts - a jar of yeast and a jar of salt (which has since been used so you see a packet instead). She had no idea why she bought them yet knew it was necessary. I had no idea why she gave them yet I knew there was a message they would show me and then remind me of constantly. Salt is a preservative and a seasoning, while yeast is what allows the bread to rise and be voluminous and become comfort food we so often seek.
Yet, what did these two ingredients have to do with loving to cook, loving to invite others to dine at the old antique table, and sacredness that belongs to this individuals' pilgrimage?
We have become part of a new book club and the first get together was at our home. The antique table that makes such a statement in this little house in the woods, was spread out, all 3 leaves added to it and 10 of us were seated there. Once the table is spread out it fills just about all of our dining/living room area! Over the course of 4 hours food was consumed, wine was poured, all the while seasoned with animated conversation that ranged from areas of justice, environmental concerns to each person being asked, and answering the question “how did your parents influence the direction of your life in the high school years and were they involved in the decisions you made? Where they supportive of what you chose to do?”.
In the holding of the question and the answering that came thoughtfully and at times painfully, one could hear pieces of another’s’ sacred and precious life journey. The table once again became the sacred space that held the salt of seasoning and the grains of healing journeys. Animated conversation was woven with hushed speaking when deeply personal moments were laid before this new group. The salt could be tasted in each story, and as in the Seder Supper tradition, the salt water with bitter herbs is a reminder of the tears of the journey. There was much symbolic salt in our evening.
As the guests left and we cleared up the dishes, as I stood alone at the sink late in the evening washing the wine glasses and pondering, I thought of the spaces, empty spaces in many of our lives where we long for this kind of intimate dialogue yet rarely find it. The places where we could love, grow and experience the comfort this affords us, almost like the symbolic comfort food that bread is. Where the yeast has done its work to provide the necessary working to bring us this light, sustaining, food of comfort and life - the bread of life which is an essential for us to live. Safe places to verbalize ideas, to be seen and heard and honoured are a kind of bread of life to the soul and spirit. They are the places that Holy Presence comes with fragrance, salt and yeast.
The Sacred Table must always hold space for the salt of healing, seasoning and preservation (holding with honor and giving dignity) as well as the yeast the provides the necessary combination and action to give us the comfort food, this bread of life that comes in surprising ways to feed us. How each person will taste or see it will be unique to where they are, but if it is an essential piece of the ritual of dining there will be an effect.