Doing the Splits With a Muffin

 

To a hungry person, God can only come as bread. Ghandi

I was not feeling well the other day, so I decided to have an English Muffin and juice for dinner. It was not a very healthy or filling choice, but it was something.

I pulled the muffin out of the package, as per usual, and then set about trying to split the top from the bottom. I’ll confess I don’t exactly know why muffins aren’t either left whole (so the consumer can slice it properly with a knife) or completely split so the halves can be easily toasted. Who is the brainiac who decided the best way to package muffins is ninety percent split, with the remaining substance determined never to let go? I mean, it’s a muffin, for heaven’s sake, not a Shakespearian tragedy!

But it is what it is. I hate that phrase, but nothing says it better. It is what it is.

I finally managed to split the muffin without making too ugly a mess of it, and it was worth the effort. Sadly, the toaster was set too low, so it didn’t get quite as crunchy as I had hoped, but when one is struggling to simply survive, perfection isn’t a prerequisite. My package of muffins contains five more little darlings, so I know each one will bring me closer to toasting perfection. Until then, I’ll make do.

That’s life, though, isn’t it? We take it a day at a time – a meal at a time – and we make do with what we have and make adjustments as we go. When my mother would make a meal and guests would drop by, or visitors possibly stay past their welcome, she never fretted. She would add this and that to the menu so that no one ever had the impression it had been watered down or stretched thin. She was a marvelous host and, to be honest, no one ever stayed past their welcome. If it was approaching dinner time, she’d specifically ask them if they wanted to stay for supper, and she’d prepare a feast!

I think she embodied the spirit of generosity (and culinary creativity) that allowed her to flourish as a friend. She lived out the Jesus-itude*: When I was hungry, you fed me; when thirsty, you gave me to drink; when lonely, you visited; etc. She made every effort to see Jesus in the other person. I don’t believe she ever saw a relationship as transactional (If you do this, I’ll do that).

Ghandi once said, “To a hungry person, God can only come as bread.” I suspect he was speaking of the real poor of the world for whom survival depended upon real sustenance. But I think it is true, also, for those who hunger for things less corporeal, but just as essential – like justice, peace, equality, or even companionship.

When I miss a meal, it is always by choice. I don’t believe I have ever missed a meal in my life due to an empty bank account or because the nearest grocery store was too far away and/or transportation non-existent. When reporters told Marie Antoinette the people had no bread, she is said to have replied, “Well, let them eat cake.” It never dawned on her, as a child of luxurious privilege, that those with no bread in their cupboards would be even less likely to have cakes in their pantries (or muffins!). 

What keeps us from being bread to a hungry world? What prevents us from working for justice or peace? Most of the time, I presume it is fear or greed that keeps us from being all God wants us to be. The question is: Can we do something about it? 

Sure. The muffin is partially split so it can be divided and shared – but with effort; we just need to work on it so as not to make a mess of it. Sharing the muffin unites those who eat of it. Even if it isn’t toasted perfectly, who cares? Just enjoy it with a smile and Jesus-itude* here in this, our valley.

*That’s a word I coined,  referencing and combining a platitude and attitude of Jesus.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available exclusively through Amazon in Print and e-book)