Today’s find: Collapse

I had one job to do: gently score the tops of the sourdough loaves prior to baking.

Sigh.

In theory, you’re providing a way for steam to escape … so that the crown of the loaf does not rupture during baking in ugly and unanticipated ways. 

In practice, I guess I got a little aggressive with the bread lame. Coming out of the oven, the loaves looked anything but proud and puffy. Rather than a crispy-split crown, they bore a deep gorge – all the better, I suppose, to channel the trail of my tears.

Suffice it to say, I won’t be entering this batch of bread in any baking contest. Blue ribbon-winners these loaves are not.

That said, the bread eats okay. Chewy and nutritious. It’s a bit of a challenge arranging cheese and cold-cuts so that they don’t overhang the edges, but just squint a bit … and you can easily convince yourself you’re eating a proper sandwich.

So what is it about “appearance” that clutches and grabs at my all-too-human heart? Why does a fallen loaf tend to bruise my self-esteem (even if only for a moment)? 

“Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth … All things are vanity!” we hear in this week’s first reading from Ecclesiastes. And in the depths of our soul, we know Qoheleth speaks the truth. Everything passes. Everything turns to dust. But we’d sure rather not go there. We’d rather not consider mortality – taking note that even the best-lived life eventually goes lame.

That only makes us human, I suppose. But dare we dwell on the possibility of another way? Jesus encourages us (in the Gospel reading) to become “rich in what matters to God.” And I also notice this: He not only encourages, but offers himself as the Way, our very Bread of Life. 

This is not the way of the world, of course. Which is precisely the point, says St. Paul. Learn from the wisdom of Qoheleth, he suggests:

Let us pause now…to recall that we are in the presence of the Holy & Merciful One.

IHS