Shirley Trumbull’s Elderberry Pie
By Steven Case Posted on October 09 2009
We're all here—each and every one of us a product of a creative and creating God. Yet we've spent millennia attempting to separate ourselves into various groups and believe different things; in the name of...well...naming this process. We call it Theology.
But there's one constant in all the different theologies. From the far off Muslim mosque to the Route 2 Evangelical Community Church (located on the frontage road) and every place of worship in between, we're bound by one single concept that lies deep beneath our differences and ties us all together in the eyes of the One who created us all.
The Potluck Supper
Oh sure, your "theology" may insist that it's actually a potluck lunch and certain denominations will require the term "covered-dish," but that's just semantics.
Let us take a look, theologically speaking, at this one event that surrounds us and binds us and acts as a basic holiness that permeates all things.
Gathering
It's important for us to gather as a people. Christ called us to gather together in the celebration of his name. You can call it anything you want. Potluck for the Lutherans and dinner-on-the-grounds for the Baptists, but it's in the act of gathering that invites us to a deepening awareness of the presence of God.
Casseroles
Our gifts...ourselves. We're a mixture aren't we? Tuna, cream of mushroom soup, noodles, crushed potato chips, and melted Velveeta cheese cut into triangles (can you say Trinity?) We need not be mixed beyond recognition, but we're here to compliment each other's flavors. We're here to bind each other (the soup). We want the meat of the message (tuna). We put up with a little bit of craziness (noodles a.k.a. youth ministry). We top it off by a little study to give us texture (crushed potato chips) and on Sunday mornings we bring out our best for God (cheese).
Corning Ware
This is what we bring our gifts in. It's a little-known fact that the Aramaic translation of Myrrh refers to something that can be transported in a casserole dish. In fact, isn't this how we see our mission as a church? We put it in a container. We keep it warm (not too hot) and then we cover it with a clear lid so we can see what it is and then decide whether or not we want to partake. Those who call themselves "seekers" (i.e. church shoppers) want to know what they're getting into before they get a scoop on their plate and then are committed to eating it.
The Big Bowl of Yellow Stuff
Every potluck has that one bowl filled with four or five ingredients that are all yellow—most of which you can't identify. We'll look at it. Others seem to be eating it, but often we prefer to hold back. We aren't willing to make that leap of faith.
Dessert
Heaven—the reward. When I was a boy it was Shirley Trumbull's Elderberry pie. It's probably different at your church, but there's bound to be something like it. You can almost taste that one special dessert that shows up at every potluck and will be gone if you aren't one of the first eight people in line. So elusive and so sweet—if you can get just a taste. Isn't this what we're all striving for? Isn't this the promise of all theologies—that sweet special reward that makes wading through the yellow stuff and that thing with the beans worth it?
Grace
We're not so different. You may take that Betty Crocker recipe literally, and I might be willing to add chocolate chips; but it's the same cookbook. Someday, we'll all sit down, Methodist and Mennonite, Episcopal and Evangelical, Catholic and Charismatic, in folding chairs in that big fellowship hall in the sky. We'll hold hands and say that God is great and God is good and we'll give thanks for the food. Amen.
