Authentic Homemade Bread
Authenticity. It’s undoubtedly one of the buzz words of our generation. My trusty, well-worn (okay, okay, abused is probably a more authentic description!) 1966 Webster’s gives only these two definitions:
1. authoritative; trustworthy; reliable
2. genuine; real
Fast forward forty years, Merriam-Webster now lists five definitions for authenticity, the last of which reads: “true to one’s own personality, spirit, or character.” The definition itself has expanded to reflect the burgeoning value we place on authenticity. In the name of authenticity, we write off people and causes that come across as disingenuous (in our subjective opinion), expect full disclosure, and see authenticity as the key to any meaningful connection. At the same time, though, our primary medium for social, and often professional connections are forged in the fires of facebook, twitter, and flickr, where we can calculate and control the images, tone, and information surrounding our virtual selves. So how do we live authentically, really?
This morning I made homemade bread. With the help of my great-grandmother’s original recipe, my three year old’s master ingredient-pouring-skills, and about seven phone calls to my mom, we produced the beautiful loaf pictured above. Now, before you think I’ve completely lost my train of thought (which, as those of you who know me can testify, would not be entirely out of character to flip from philosophizing to food prep in one breathe), let me explain:
The inspiration to bake came, oddly enough, from a conversation I had Wednesday morning on the topic of hypocrisy, which I propose is the antithesis of authenticity. In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 11, Jesus slams the religious leaders of his day for holding to the letter of the law, for requiring outward perfection from their followers, yet having hard, cold hearts. They had it all together on the outside and were pressuring others to measure up, but inwardly they cared nothing about the things closest to God’s heart: the poor, justice, and the love of God are a just a few Christ mentions in this passage.
In chapter 12, Jesus goes on to warn his followers against the “yeast of hypocrisy,” which got us talking about bread. Quantitatively the yeast is the least ingredient, but it sure does have a lot of bang for its buck. Over time, it changes everything. So too, when I start focusing on the externals, my outward performance and what I have to show for it, at the expense of the condition of my heart, I become a hypocrite by definition. And sadly I infect others when I begin to size them up by these external measurements apart from a heart that is motivated by love.
This concept of first taking care of the condition of my heart and allowing the externals to follow (albeit the following often takes discipline and hard work) seems so counter-intuitive to everything inside of me. I’m not sure if it’s just my human nature, my people pleasing personality, or what, but my gut reaction in almost any situation is to look good on the outside. Rarely is my primary motivation love, or justice, or the cause of the oppressed. So tonight, with flour dust still on my counter top, I’m longing for a heart that beats in rhythm with Jesus’ heart: for the poor, for justice, for the love of God and trusting He’ll help me sort through the rest.
Photo Credit: Believe it or not, my three year old snapped this picture. After trying to capture a good shot of the bread we made together, I left the camera on the table, with autofocus on, and Laura snapped this shot when she got up from her nap. Here she is, my little protégée!
