Salt for the Feast
In the fall of 2013, I moved to England to pursue a PhD in poetry and theology. Like most native Texans, I have an abiding love for that particular proof of God’s goodness that is Tex Mex cuisine; and as I’m sure one would imagine, good enchiladas in the UK are a little scarce. So when Gracie (my girlfriend at the time, and now my wife) came to visit me that first spring, we strolled to the local Sainsbury’s to drop a week’s wages on the fixins for a fajita feast. We labored most of a Saturday — chopping avocados, marinating steak, and kneading the pièce de résistance: stacks of homemade flour tortillas (my mom’s recipe, likely borrowed from Martha Stewart). We served up the spread to a horde of eager Brits, who chewed and raved about the dishes they were tasting for the first time. But when Gra and I dug in, we looked at each other in alarm. While prepping the tortilla dough, it seems I had mistakenly put in tablespoons of salt, rather than teaspoons. Our crew was gracious; but I’ll always regret not being more careful — and inadvertently serving pretzel tortillas to the community who’d welcomed me so lovingly.
In the ninth chapter of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples, “Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.” Salt, in the ancient world, was used as both a preservative and an enhancer of flavor. A little salt can greatly amplify the deliciousness of a dish; but too much salt can turn delicacy into dog food. Jesus offers these words to his disciples after receiving a report that they had silenced someone who was casting out demons in his name. Jesus’ response: “Whoever is not against us is for us.”
It can be so easy for us to get fixated on our own ideas of how things should be: of what the right way is to think or believe or act or vote. But Jesus asks us to maintain a posture of openness, of curiosity, or wonder. Rather than getting stuck in the conviction that our way of seeing and living is the right one, Jesus asks us to stay open, to stay humble, and to live into the possibility that someone who thinks or behaves differently than we do may in fact have something to teach us. To show us. To grow in us.
In the complex, often fraught world we navigate (especially in an election year), rather than doggedly insisting that our way is the right way — and just pouring more salt on whatever wounds of rancor are there — perhaps we can consider that we may have more to learn from one another than we think. And perhaps we use the salt that’s in us for the purpose that it’s made for: to enhance the goodness that’s already present in the world around us, rather than being the dominant note we taste.
