Called to the Kitchen

I've long understood that place shapes identity and, even more than that, spirituality -- something Kathleen Norris refers to as spiritual geography in her book Dakota and that Linda Hasselstrom also addresses in her work, albeit from a different vantage point.

In any case, as far as place goes, my identity is rooted in the southeast corner of South Dakota along the James River, the place, as the story goes, the scouts sent ahead from Russia picked as the best location for the new settlement. In making this decision, they bypassed the more fertile farm ground of the Red River Valley and northwest Iowa because it was "too good" and they feared the people would become "proud" working rich land like that.

If there's one thing that can be said about farming, it's this: Depending on the land and the whims of the weather for your livelihood fosters, if not a relationship with God, at least the knowledge that there are forces greater than yourself at work in the world.

But I'm only beginning to understand how food can go beyond preserving cultural identity and family history to become theology in practice. I've said before that I come from a long line of women who take great joy in feeding people. I've never thought much about it until I put it in the larger context of the Mennonite emphasis on service and, more specifically, the relief sales, the meat canning, the disaster relief.

Within this context, cooking goes beyond a means of showing love to family and community or even a spiritual gift in service of the church. It becomes necessary for showing Christ to the world. It becomes a calling.

So there it is. As much as I have worked out.