Like my mother before me, I used to bake a loaf now and again. I never imagined I would do so regularly. I was never the natural foods mom. Cheetos and Twinkies were food groups at my house. My grocery store motto was, “If it tastes good and you can buy it wholesale, who cares about the additives!”
But, alas, my son's allergy to preservatives limited my options. Bread needed to be made. To ease the blow, we purchased a bread machine. It was fun! I made bread every day, and thought I was being rustic. The leaven was certainly in the loaf, but I had no direct agency in bringing its yield to bear … until my bread machine broke.
Simplicity beckoned. I stoutly refused to purchase yet another machine, nor to fix the old one. If my great-grandmother could feed twelve kids homemade bread in a sod house on the prairie in North Dakota, well, by golly, I was going to bake bread every other day and not complain. (Well, about the complaining, only my confessor knows for sure…)
Definitely I sought out the easy alternatives. I found a supreme recipe for sweet roll dough that requires no kneading. It is all gift — and the rolls turn out just dreamy. But I have not found a sandwich bread recipe with no kneading. So, every other day or so, I roll up my sleeves, push my fingers into the dough and let loose.
This, my friends, is a sign of huge spiritual growth. The first time I tried baking bread alone, years ago, I commented to a friend that it was an excellent way to get rid of my excess passions. My bread dough was not so much kneaded as pounded into submission. She was horrified! She found me a lovely poem on kneading as gentle preparation for the ultimate rising of the dough. Uh huh. I said.
But I have discovered that making bread is a Marian discipline. It has helped me to slow down, receive the day's tasks and enjoy the process as it unfolds. In fact, as I knead the dough, I can see my own soul in the hands of God, gently being prodded and pushed, prepared for my “roll” in the world. (Bad pun intended.)
When we eat the Bread of Life, we partake in the sacred mystery that the pummeling and pounding Jesus endured in the Passion became the exact cause of His rising to eternal life. It is little different in my life and in yours. There are some aspects to it that simply require our active receptivity. The slowing of our senses, and will to desire His gentle prompts orients us to our eternal home. Try making a loaf or two and allow the process deepen your understanding of the words of Christ and to lift your heart to praise God.
(Kristen McGuire is a mother of six who writes from Virginia. This article is reprinted with permission from Canticle Magazine (www.canticlemagazine.com).
