Last Sunday was a big dill at Farm Church. For one day, we change our name to Pickle Church. “What’s that?” you ask? Well, try to imagine a congregation making about 80 jars of pickles in the middle of worship. Pickling + Church = Pickle Church.
Why? That may be the more pertinent question. The “why” behind Pickle Church begins with a simple cucumber and an acute awareness of the ways in which even that simple cucumber embodies the handiwork of a creative, loving God. Its shape, its color, its ripening on the vine, its nutrition, its smell… God has been at work fashioning that cucumber, blessing it with life and a vitality all its own. Sitting there on the cutting board, that cucumber is a psalm of praise to a God who knows how to make good things! And so when we give thanks for God’s gift of just one simple cucumber – when we recognize the DNA of God’s creative action in that one simple fruit – how can we not begin to see it in other places? In all our good food, in our neighbor’s eyes, in the movements and needs of strangers, in the whole spinning, expansive universe! That’s essentially why we did Pickle Church.
We pickled cucumbers, okra, jalepeño peppers, onions, carrots… And in the “sermons” that took place around our tables, we asked each other questions:
· What’s a significant memory you have around the preparation of food?
· What does it mean for you to be connected to your food?
· What traditions do you have that involve food?
· How do you typically give thanks for your food?
· Where do you see God in the preparation and sharing of food?
All along the way with Farm Church, we’ve been striving to blur the lines between worship, work, and play – to suggest that, in fact, our worship of God is lived out in our day-to-day lives in ways that deepen our sense of the Spirit and compel us to care for the needs of others. Our aim with Pickle Church (and coming soon… Sauerkraut Church, Salad Church...?) was to pronounce God’s presence in the gifts of the earth and even to suggest that our kitchens and dinner tables might become sanctuaries of adoration and thanksgiving for the good gifts of heaven and earth.
At the close of our worship we gathered around this prayer/poem, written by the late John O’Donohue called “Grace After Meals.” It’s become a favorite of mine. We often think of saying “grace” before meals. Once in a while, it’s good to pray when the meal is over. If it ever strikes you to try it, here’s a great prayer to share…
"Grace After Meals," by John O’Donohue
We end this meal with grace
For the joy and nourishment of food,
The slowed time away from the world
To come into presence with each other
And sense the subtle lives behind our faces,
The different colours of our voices,
The edges of hungers we keep private,
The circle of love that unites us.
We pray the wise spirit who keeps us
To change the structures that make others hunger
And that after such grace we might now go forth
And impart dignity wherever we partake.