Faithful Food: A Case for Joy

Kim Long DRE, St. Mary of the Pines Church

“Weeping may endure at night, but joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5

I have to tell you I have always shied away from the image of Mary as sorrowful. My connection with the Blessed Mother was forged in the early days of my “preconversion” experience when I read everything Andrew Greeley wrote.

His version of Mary was young, based in his experience with the Irish women of his own family and neighborhood, and she was somewhat sassy, not a woman who clutched her pearls or wailed or gnashed her teeth. Instead, she seemed to be sure, steady, solid, and filled with quiet joy. This image of Mary filled my thoughts. My children were still young as was I. My hope was in the Lord and Mary was my example of joy.

Seeing the image of the Pieta in the prayer garden of the parish which would claim me forever was a bit of a shock. Jesus looked so grown up, fully human as his mother held him in her arms in what seemed at the time a cruel mockery of the tenderness we hold our children as infants. I shied away then and if I am honest am not much braver today.

But herein the lesson lies.

My grandmother, whom I certainly never likened to Greeley’s sassy joyful Mary, was instead dependable, faithful, and my example of God’s love. Until, as John Shea, theologian and storyteller tells us, then something happens. For my grandmother that something was the untimely death of first one

daughter and then a second. Those surreal events caught and held us, rendering me unable to imagine how she felt. During this time I thought of the image in the prayer garden from which I had turned my eyes and my thoughts so long ago. My grandmother spoke so quietly as we sat in a generic hospital waiting room remembering when the doctor handed her each of her daughters and now she was handing them back to God. I think it was a prayer that spilled from her heart, one she may not have realized she had actually uttered aloud.

Time passes.

My grandmother is gone now. At St. Mary’s the prayer garden is in sight of my office. Sometimes I sit there, drinking in the image I so often pretended was invisible. Greeley’s Madonna is still in my mind’s eye with a mirthful mouth and knowing eyes which I begin to understand now. She experienced hope and loss, and now offers us respite, help, and yes in the end, reminds us that joy remains.

Milk Gravy

Sharing lunch with my grandmother after church on Sunday was always a treat. Even with the simplest of fare just being with her was what mattered. She often brought milk gravy and “light bread” to the table on her “good” plates along with cups of tea.

Milk Gravy: Combine butter (she used bacon drippings) with flour in a heavy pan. Stir constantly until flour is golden but not dark. Slowly add milk while stirring all the time until desired consistency is achieved. Add salt and black pepper and serve piping hot over bread, toast, biscuits, or rice. Consume knowing our hope and joy are well placed.