Cooking as a Sacrament
The sharing of food is a sacred experience. That word ‘sacred’ startles a lot of people; keep in mind, however, that walking in constant awareness of That Which Is Divine means allowing the sacred to become mundane. As I’ve said elsewhere, Divinity simply is, and the best way to experience it is to simply be. This approach means that Divinity permeates every interaction: a conversation, a wink, a nod, a nudge, a grin, a hug, a kiss.
A meal.
Think about it: cooking for someone is one of the ultimate expressions of love. You’re not just providing sustenance; you’re providing sensuality. You aren’t just making sure they walk the face of the planet for a while; you are enriching their lives. You are giving them an experience, and a sharing of yourself: your time, your care, your concern, your skill, your creativity. It’s a tangible investment of yourself into that person’s life experience, and it matters. Even if you are just cooking for yourself, it matters.
Does this mean that every meal, burdened with the expectation of Divinity, must therefore be a monumental production that dirties every pan in the kitchen and empties the refrigerator? No, of course not; Divinity is mundane, remember.
There is holiness in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a tall glass of milk. (At 60, it’s still one of my favorite lunches.)
