I’ve got to just hold my breath and jump into this blogging thing, haven’t I? Because my apple-y ideas have started to work into my thoughts, like yeast’s hidden effect in dough, and Im starting to see apples everywhere (figuratively speaking, you understand) … funny how a seed of an idea (a pip, perhaps?) gives my thoughts and reflections space to grow in, and a direction to move in.
It seems to me to be a short distance from talking about ‘an apple a day’ as a health-giving food to the daily-something-else that Jesus encouraged us to pray for.
“Give us this day our daily bread”: this day, we need (await, expect, welcome) the this of your provision.
Exactly what it is that I need. Please. (What is it that I need?)
The bread that I was given in Sunday’s Eucharist represents (re-presents: offers again? Or stands in stead of?) the ultimate gift, ultimate symbol, ultimate substance. Here The Giver meets the giftee (probably not a word, but it says what I want it to say); here this Gift becomes the this that I need. Out of all ordinary things, unpredictably and peculiarly, remarkably and wonderfully, this dry little crumb gives me life. Or it might. I live with the hope of that encounter, with constant longing for that experience, that reality. Sunday’s miniature moment, echoing in tomorrow’s breakfast. The sublime and sacred hiding in the ordinary and common.
I’m not trying to be theologically technical, just to express with words what goes on inside me. Point is, I want everything that I experience to help me come alive to the God-ness that is everywhere. To God, I mean, whose fingerprints (I find myself intent on proving for myself) are all over every mundane thing.
Even my daily apple.
Our daily basket of breakfast goodies (admittedly out of sync: this is from the Austrian week in November 2017)