Dosas, Diwali, and Finding Home

V. starts the evening unsure and tidy, wearing a pressed button-up shirt under an approved uniform sweater bearing the school logo. This is a religious holiday, after all, and he has come as a guest to celebrate and honor the importance of the day. He comes into the kitchen to thank me for having him and hosting the dinner. Delhi is 10.5 hours ahead of Rabun Gap, a tremendous distance for a teenager feeling homesick as he watches videos and sees pictures of friends and family celebrations back home.

I give him a hug to welcome him, then turn to the stove, firing up the flame under a flat iron pan specifically made for cooking dosas, a south Indian specialty.

“Wait until it gets very hot,” V. hesitantly offers.

“Not too much oil,” he says next, as I begin to brush the pan to prepare it for the batter.

“Do you have the right batter?” he asks.

I smile and ask him if he would like to cook the first dosa. I am not offended, but genuinely want him to participate in whatever way will feed his soul and soothe his heart.

“May I?” he answers.

“Of course!” I say as I step aside and show him where to find everything he needs to start cooking.
Our house fills with more than thirty students and faculty members, but V. stays at the stove. K., another student from Delhi, arrives after basketball practice and sets up shop beside V. in the kitchen. I gather supplies for her to cook poha, one of her favorite dishes, and V. and K. enter a beautiful and joyful dance of cooking, smiling, and talking.

Soon, both of them are on Facetime with their mothers in India. I’m not sure how grateful the moms are for the calls since it is not quite 7 a.m. their time the day after a major festival with parties. But our cooks want to ask their mothers’ advice and show them the fruits of their labors.

“It’s almost time to eat. I’ll keep things going in here so the two of you can go to the living room and tell everyone something about Diwali,” I tell our cooks.

“No! You go and do it. We want to stay here,” they tell me with wide eyes as their hands continue to stir and flip.

K. finishes her dish then works the room as her friends load their plates with food from her homeland.

V. sheds his sweater after my husband encourages him to get more comfortable. It is hot in the kitchen, especially over the screaming pan. I offer to take over so he can eat but he will not leave his post. His friends line up, plates in hand, waiting for him to deliver a hot and fresh dosa. He laughs and chats with each of them, talking about the dosas and other foods from home. He stays at the stove until every last bit of batter has been slathered on the pan’s surface, flipped, then stuffed with potatoes and spices.

This last dosa is his. He takes a picture to send to his mother, proud of his progress in perfecting the dosas over the course of the evening. He loads a second plate with rice, daal, sambar, paneer, salad, and chutneys. He sits at the table, welcomed by the others like an athlete returned from a successful competition.

Most everyone else has finished eating and moved to the piano. An American student sits at the keys and begins to play. The students around her are from the Caribbean, Afghanistan, Chile, India, Germany, and other countries. They find song lyrics on their phones and soon all are singing their favorite pop songs.

Candles burn around the room and a Bollywood movie plays, muted, on the television. I tidy the kitchen then plop into my favorite chair. V. sits with friends at the table behind me, talking about the food and his favorite Diwali traditions. In front of me, K. sings with her friends and dormmates.
Everyone is full and happy. No one is missing home because they have brought home here, into this room, with one another.

Enzymes and Hospitality

I confess: I’m a small science nerd. I’m not one to read books about the subject but I do love watching biological processes at work and taking note of the way the laws of physics govern our world.

My love and fascination for enzymes, especially, has not faded. Enzymes are catalysts that expedite chemical reactions. When atoms combine to form new molecules, often enzymes are the workhorses making that it happen. The enzymes are not a part of the new molecule, but they bring the elements together and make them happier. Nature provides a facilitator to move things along and bring things together that otherwise may not have bumped up against each other.

Enzymes create an active site for two substrates to connect. The enzyme brings these substrates together until they can meld into a new product. The new product releases from the enzyme, allowing the enzyme to reset its active site and prepare for new substrates. Isn’t that beautiful?

When we engage in the ministry of hospitality, we do the work of an enzyme. We set a table, dress up our lawn, arrange plates and napkins, and prepare food. We make ready our active site. Then our guests, our substrates, arrive. Some of the guests know each other and share a bond already but others will be meeting for the first time. They will introduce themselves, get to know each other, and form a new bond. By the time they leave, these substrates are in relationship with one another and we, the hosts and catalysts, can clean and reset the active site for another meeting.

Case in point: Recently we had a group of people to our house to celebrate our son’s birthday and mark Oktoberfest. There were people from four different parts of our lives in attendance. Once all of our guests had arrived and dinner was served, I walked around to watch and listen. On the deck, a family new to the area visited with school families and church members, learning why we all love Rabun Gap and Saint James. On the lawn, the parent of a kindergartener visited with a fifth-grade teacher. The parent called me over and said, “My new BFF!” wrapping her arm around the teacher. “We had the same nickname growing up! We’re just finding out what else we have in common.”

Yesterday, I happened to be on Facebook and saw a friend of ours of fifteen years comment on the post of another friend of twenty-two years. The two people live in different parts of the country and would not know each other were it not for our wedding thirteen years ago. Now, they are friends.

Enzymatic activity at work.

I feel the same way about being a priest, especially around the altar. So much of my job is connecting people so that ministry can grow out of their new relationship, organically and dynamically. I hear someone shares an interest that matches another person’s resources and my job is to bring them together to talk and see if a new product might result from our efforts. Similarly, I set the table on Sunday morning for the congregation to gather around and be fed by God. The action of gathering at the altar creates a new product: the body of Christ. I’m not the host, simply the catalyst. And I love this work.

I sometimes hear people either degrade themselves or one another around the art of hospitality. Some people say they couldn’t host people to their houses because they aren’t perfect and can’t create the “perfect” environment. Similarly, people will criticize someone for hosting parties because they want to “show off” their fashionable houses and perfect abilities to pull off a gathering.

These thoughts are wrong and, in the process, we are discouraging one another from performing one of the most fundamental ministries there is. Welcoming each other through acts of hospitality is a primary ministry that gives birth to many more. I don’t delight in having people into my home because I get to show it off. To the contrary, I don’t make extra efforts to have everything looking perfect or even tidy. I simply love seeing people meet, laugh, connect, eat well, and leave happier than when they came and with new bonds and relationships.

In an age of isolation and alienation, could we not do with some more enzymes? Do we not need more catalysts for bringing people together rather than fewer? To that end, I encourage you, brothers and sisters, to consider the ministry of hospitality. Consider creating active sites where new products might be formed. We hunger for connection and relationship, renewal and purpose. This does not happen if we do not first get people together. Won’t you partner with me, then, in some enzymatic activity?