by Renate Gritter
Over the last year and change, I have found myself frequently expressing aloud "have you ever seen anything more beautiful??" with the greatest sincerity. The more frequently I'm saying it the better, as far as I'm concerned. The subject of this bewildered exclamation varies. Sometimes it's snowflakes falling with grace and restraint against a silver-blue street lamp; little apples, all in a heap; a plastic Christmas tree against the midday sun. Every time I say it, it half crosses my mind that I probably have seen something more beautiful than whatever has captured me. In that moment, however, my heart cannot name one thing. All past experiences of wonderment bow to the present and my soul sways leisurely with joy. That's one part of making bread for me.
Most of my life I've been quite sure I want to be a mother, to create and carry human creatures with and within my human body. I feel strongly that what I have to give this world is small and living; like me, grows slowly despite the vulnerability this pace of improvement creates. Of all the things that I have fashioned in my years, nothing feels closer to what my heart desires to bring to life than making bread.
I am the maker, yes, but what I am making is warm, alive and responsive. It begins as chalky powder and clear crystal, sterile and material, but it quickly receives water: fragrant, frothy, nutty brown and milky, toasty to the touch. Immediately a personality forms in the bowl. Are you dry lobes, refusing the flour beneath you? Are you sticky, glistening and full of holes? Are you so perfect nobody likes you (except me, because I am your mother)? This is when my soul begins to sway. How could it not? Have you ever seen flour become fae, dough become daughter? Every time I embark on a loaf, the experience is somehow more and the same kind of beautiful.
I am reminded of the Widow at Zarephath, who the prophet Elijah asks for her last handful of flour and glug of olive oil during a drought. She is convinced, and rightly so, that this is surely the last bit of bread she could possibly make. How could anything more come from so little? And yet, as long as Elijah stays with her, oil, flour and bread are plenty and her family survives. And so is the miracle of bread: an abundance of love springs from almost nothing and keeps arising and sustaining us through eternity, unchanged and moving. And so is the miracle of Divine Life. Is it a wonder that Christ confesses that bread is his broken body?
And I get to make bread! I have the gift of entering completely into a process that mirrors the creative and creating character of God. Through feeling to the tips of my toes that each lump of dough is my pride and delight, I understand a sliver of a shadow of how deeply all of creation is loved by God. Through deriving energy and meaning from eating bread, I am reminded that the simple and miraculous revealed in the incarnation are what my body must continuously digest to keep living. And, in a way, simply to receive this crusty gospel is enough. Sometimes I cannot cook, only eat. Others, too, feed me in so many ways I could never name or reciprocate. However, that I am a bread baker is one of the truest things about me. It is a tangible love letter from God that says "you, my girl, are like me."
About: RENATE GRITTER
Renate Gritter graduated with a BA in Interdisciplinary Studies (concentrations in International Studies and Psychology) from SSU in December of 2020. Her BA thesis on fetishes, kinks, community care and the clinical discourse surrounding sexual interests has the mouthful and a half of a title "Facilitators of Health in the Sexualities of Paraphiliacs: The Roles and Implications of Therapeutic and Non-Therapeutic Organizational Approaches and Paraphilia Specific Online Forums and Frameworks of Care." She's also working towards an MA in SSU's Theology and Culture program, with the intention of continuing her academic exploration of sexuality from a theological and mystical angle. Living at SSU's Park Hall in the heart of St. Stephen, New Brunswick, Renate's passion for hospitality and community takes shape in finding creative ways to feed and care for her fellow SSU Staff, Faculty and Park Hall guests, raucous nights of karaoke with the regulars at her local bar, as many games of cards as she can get her hands on and sharing a cheeky little homily every once in a while, with her friends at St. Croix Church.