Pastoral Thought--June 15

I bet that you didn’t know this: I don’t care for beets. (Not the most revelatory thing to share on a Monday morning huh, but there it is). It is not that I do not appreciate the nutritional value of beets—because I do. God created vegetables in such a way as to care and support our bodies in powerful ways. I have read before that a good healthy diet includes something from every color of the rainbow (red—apple, yellow—banana, purple—beets . . you get the idea). It is just that, well, I don’t like beets. 

My dad enjoyed them so much that we would have them prepared in two ways—cooked in vinegar and cooked in their own juices (I think). Grandma would always make extra because dad and grandpa could eat so many. Dad would look at my sister and I aghast because we didn’t like them when they were presented and would only take the bare minimum of a helping. I learned how to cut them into smaller bites and swallow them whole so I wouldn’t have to chew them. . . a chocking hazard for sure, but I lived, and I didn’t have to taste those cursed-beets! 

Fast forward 35 years. . . Jennifer and I are having dinner with JonMark and his girlfriend Autumn at the Breakneck Tavern on Saturday evening. We haven’t been there before, and we were looking forward to trying some new food as restaurants are opening up slowly. JonMark and I wanted to share some appetizers because I skipped lunch (which we did). Fried calamari! Never had it before but it was good and I would get it again. Autumn enjoyed the calamari and we talked more about her love of food and cooking and she asked questions about what we liked and didn’t. Then it happened. The conversation turned to those little redish-purple things that I disliked as a child: beets. Autumn was shocked to learn that I am not a fan (her eyes actually got big when I revealed this). She asked me many questions about how they were prepared and offered personal feedback about how to prepare them in the future (Again Autumn is a great cook—which we knew).

Over the next hour or so, beets became the entry point for a conversation about familial roles and choices for her childhood, and ours. We laughed and talked and I thought of something Margaret Wheatley wrote: 

"I can’t think of anything that’s given me more hope recently than to observe how simple conversations . . . give birth to powerful actions that change our lives and restore hope to the future." 

I am not running out today to buy a bunch of beets, but I did notice that evening that just being willing to enter into a conversation about something personal (my reflections and history with beets), when combined with the experience and learning of another (Autumn’s refection on the same topic), sparked something in that evening that I did not anticipate. Nothing revelatory, or transformational, happened at dinner—except the willingness to listen, be present, and dwell in the life of another person. I wonder, when you have had that opportunity in your life and how the conversation could be different? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek