The Perfect Hamburger

In the Greek classic, The Odyssey, Homer probes the meaning of life. Me? I’m simply in search of a hamburger that tastes as good as the ones I enjoyed with my Dad at Main Street cafes of small Nebraska towns when I’d accompany him on a sales trip.

Imagine my delight when I spotted an article in the NYTimes explaining how to cook the perfect hamburger! Like Homer’s Odysseus I’ve followed more than my share of dead ends and made some pretty serious mistakes.  Here’s what I’ve learned:

First, forget the grill. Use a cast-iron skillet or griddle. The point is to allow rendering beef fat to gather around the patties as they cook. The beef fat collected in a hot skillet acts both as a cooking and a flavoring agent. Grease is a condiment that is as natural as the beef itself.

Great hamburgers fall into two distinct categories. There is the traditional griddled hamburger of Main Street diners like the ones I enjoyed with my Dad. The other is the pub- or tavern-style hamburger, plump and juicy, with a thick char that gives way to tender, often blood-red meat within. Dad never took me into any pubs or taverns so you know the one I’m looking for!

The diner hamburger has a precooked weight of 3 to 4 ounces, roughly an ice-cream-scoop’s worth of meat. Pay close attention to the cuts of beef used in the grind. Home cooks should experiment with blends that contain from 20 to 25 percent fat.

The grind most stores sell is “fine,” which means the fat globules in it are small. That can lead to the dreaded mushy mouth feel of a substandard hamburger. Better to have a butcher grind your meat, asking for a coarse grind so that the ratio of meat to fat is clear to the eye.

Whatever the blend, it is wise to keep the meat in the refrigerator, untouched, until you are ready to cook. Hamburgers are one of the few meats you want to cook cold. You want the fat solid when the patty goes onto the skillet.

Forming the patties is an art. Simply use a spoon or an ice-cream scoop to extract a loose golf ball of meat from the pile, and get it onto the skillet in one swift movement accompanied (for the first burger) with a pat of melted butter to get the process started.

Then, a heresy to many home cooks: the smash. Use a heavy spatula to press down on the meat, producing a thin patty about the size of a hamburger bun. Everyone freaks out about that, explain the experts, but it’s the only time you should be “working” the meat, essential to creating a great crusty exterior in doing so.

Roughly 90 seconds later, after seasoning your burger, slide your spatula under the patty, flip it over, add cheese if you want, and cook the hamburger through.

The hamburger of my dreams has no cheese. But I concede some gild the lily. If you must, the experts say most people don’t melt the cheese enough. Put it on the moment the patty is flipped and let it drape the burger. Which cheese you use is a matter of preference. American cheese is designed to melt and it has 50 percent more sodium than Cheddar or Swiss, so it adds a lot of flavor.

In choosing buns the bun-to-burger ratio is incredibly important. You want a soft bun, like a challah or potato, but whichever you use it shouldn’t overwhelm the burger. They should be as one.

Finally, choose your condiments. You know the ususals… they are a matter of preference. But again according to the experts, do not overdress — people really over complicate hamburgers. We substitute complication for simplicity, sharing and loving those we are with.

Sounds a lot like spirituality. What I wouldn’t give for just one more burger with my Dad in a cafe on Main Street in a small Nebraska town.

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You may find the entire June 24 NYTimes article on which my reflection is base at: http//nyti.ms/1rqWdZ2  —  It contains a great explanation (and recipe) for Pub or Tavern burgers for those who prefer these over my favorite diner burger.

Family Values

So what does Jesus have against families?

His parents were saints! He seems to have had a great extended family and lifelong relationship with cousin John. We’re led to believe he had an ideal relationship with his father and followed in the family business. When it counted most it was his mother who stood by him.

If you go to church this weekend you’re likely to get a very different impression. The saccharine images of Christmas greeting cards are gone. Forget any recollection you have of Rafael or Botticelli. No Madonna and Child this weekend!

Today is the official start of summer. Maybe the people who set-up the Common Lectionary think we won’t notice — church attendance is way down at this time of year. Here goes:

For I have come to set a man against his father,
and a daughter against her mother,
and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;
and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. (Mt 10:35-36)

Really makes you want to run off to church, doesn’t it?  Or, maybe run out of church! Who needs this? I am absolutely certain this Gospel will not be selected for use by the Catholic bishops at their Synod on the Family in October!

But, wait! Words of my dear, deceased mother — the one who insistently trucked the family off to church every Sunday — come to mind. This is a time when she would interject her invariably profound, “You know, life is strange.” Because, it just is!

Our family flunks the Holy Family test. For generations we have wrestled, not always successfully, with alcoholism. Marriages in our family end in divorce at the same rate as the culture as a whole. We have a sibling who has turned into a recluse and ignores overtures even for some minimal communication. Need I continue?  You can likely supply your own list!

This Gospel surprisingly became Good News when I actually heard the introductory lines: “A disciple is not above the teacher… it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher.” Jesus is teaching what it means to be a follower. No, these are not marching orders for apostles — the message we eventually will be sent to proclaim!  We’re not adequately prepared for that yet.  Remember: the word disciple means a student!

This is our apprenticeship where we need to learn the discipline of what it means to be a disciple. Remember the setting… this is not the Sermon on the Mount preached to the masses. The setting much more resembles what a coach would say at half-time to a team at the World Cup: “Okay, team, we are in the match of a lifetime. This is about all the marbles. Here’s what we need to do. Play hard! We can win this! Don’t lose focus… remember why we’re here!”

Tough as it may sound, this is exactly the message this Christian apprentice needs to hear. Life is strange! Keep your eye on the prize. Keep your priorities straight! What’s really important?

This is precisely the message our congregations, cities, corporations and nation need to hear as well. When we get these priorities straight, we will finally be prepared to proclaim with confidence and conviction: Gospel of The Lord!

Our Fathers

What are we to say of our fathers? Mine wasn’t perfect – none are, I suspect. When I turned 40, the age he was when I was born, I suddenly had a whole new appreciation for the man. What must it have been like to be the sole bread-winner for a wife and ten children? I buckled at the prospect. He did not.

Married in 1931, the Great Depression and WWII prevented him and my mother from “getting off the farm” until 1945. How they managed to “keep the farm” during those hard early years – when so many other good people had not – continues to amaze me.

We had our scrapes. What son or daughter doesn’t? I recall announcing at dinner that I was going to protest a Presidential campaign rally of George Wallace. He said, “No, you’re not.” I said, “Yes, I am!” Back and forth we went, horns locked.

Experienced parent that he was he announced, “This is what we are going to do… we will both go! We will sit in our seats. We won’t cheer or in any way express approval. However, we will not be part of an organized protest.” Together we went.

We witnessed those I would have been with taking folding chairs over their backs. The violence made national news. Though it took years to temper my impetuous zeal and admit his more mature wisdom, I never again doubted whether he would “be there” for me.

Who among us would not like to relive, perhaps re-script, certain episodes with our dads. Today, I am still in search of a hamburger to rival those I shared with him as an 8-year-old in cafes of small Nebraska towns when I accompanied him as a sales rep for a farm implement company. Oh, the conversation we’d have!

About a year before he died we shared another meal. I took the risk of asking what he wanted me to say about him at his funeral. His eyes shot up, “What?” “Look,” I said, “I’m going to be there and will probably have something to say. Most people don’t get the chance to say what they want said about them. What do you want me to say?”

Composing himself, he thought for a moment. “First of all, you better be there!” Then he said, “Tell them I wasn’t perfect… I made my mistakes. Tell them I’m sorry. But, tell them I tried my best and have loved them more than they will ever know.”

Dads aren’t perfect. But, then, who’d want to be the daughter or son of a perfect parent! We honor them best by growing into the woman or man we were born to be. In this we become more like them.

Dad has been gone more than 21 years now. Fathers Day without him never gets any easier – just different. There are times I am certain of his attentive presence. At other times I would give the world to share an experience or tap his wisdom.

This year I am especially grateful for the way he taught me to pray: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

Get a Grip

Again, a favorite poem. Perhaps you have someone special with whom you would care to share it for Fathers Day…

 
Sign for my Father Who Stressed the Bunt

On the rough diamond,
the hand-cut field below the dog lot and barn,
we rehearsed the strict technique
of bunting. I watched from the infield,
the mound, the backstop
as your left hand climbed the bat, your legs
and shoulders squared toward the pitcher.
You could drop it like a seed
down either baseline. I admired your style,
but not enough to take my eyes off the bank
that served as our center-field fence.
 
Years passed, three leagues of organized ball,
no few lives.   I could homer
into the garden beyond the bank,
into the left-field lot of Carmichael Motors,
and still you stressed the same technique,
the crouch and spring, the lead arm absorbing
just enough impact. The whole tiresome pitch
about basics never changing,
and I never learned what you were laying down.
 
Like a hand brushed across the bill of a cap,
let this be the sign
I’m getting a grip on the sacrifice.
 

– David Bottoms

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The poem first appeared in David Bottoms’ 1983 collection,  In a U-Haul North of Damascus.  I discovered it in A Good Man: Fathers and Sons in Poetry and Prose, ed. Irv Broughton. NY: Ballantine Books, 1993. p. 104.

Those Who Aren’t, Are!

Often when my mother was about to say something profound, she would preface it with, “You know, life is strange!” Then she would unload some wise bomshell from a lifetime of careful observation. Usually her “truths” disclosed life not always being what it seems or “conventional wisdom” being turned on its head.

Mom’s wisdom came to mind again yesterday when a sister-in-law shared a 90 second video. It was the season premier of Louie, a program unknown to me. The [clip] features an exchange between a bluntly honest single dad and his daughter. After Louie rewards his eldest child for doing her homework with a mango pop, his youngest demands one as well.

With tempered exasperation that can only come from the love of a parent (or a teacher), Louie bluntly confronts his youngest with the fact that life is not fair and she will need “to get used to it.” While everyone is of equal dignity, there is no fundamental human right to equal treatment.  That’s life!

Then with wisdom befitting my own mother, Louie delivers a line we hope would somehow register somewhere in the consciousness of our young children: we are never to look to see if others have more but only to see whether others have enough! Wisdom befitting the Gospels!

It is often stated, and experience seems to prove, that the first and best teachers in the faith are parents. In this, Louie deserves an A+. But you know, life is strange… I think Louie would be the last person to claim that stelar achievement. Life is coming too fast and furious for this single dad to allow time to evaluate how well he is parenting.

In my book, parents like Louie (and many teachers) are literal saints. Jesus always had a predilection for the invisible little guys, those who thought they were nobodies or society ignored. The Louies of the world don’t have the luxury of introspection. They just lay down their lives from some deep inner core of love that elicits selflessness.

I’m only on the cusp of my elder years and have yet to achieve my mother’s wisdom. However, I am ruminating about something that has not yet risen to the status of “truth”. It is this: People who think they are holy typically are not; those who doubt whether they are holy often are! What do you think?

Yes, life is strange!

Woman, Centered in God

We prayed the family Rosary when I was a kid – not just during Lent, not just one day a week, we prayed the Rosary after dinner every day of my childhood. Okay, we may have been allowed a reprieve from time to time but this was truly the exception, not the rule!

Imagine the tens of thousands of times we recited the “Hail Mary” together as a family! I cannot begin to express the culminating grace and profound consolation standing aside our mother’s bed on January 19, 2007 as she breathed her last. One last time we prayed, “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. AMEN!” 

May is a month many Christians dedicate to Mary. Certainly there would be no reprieve from our family Rosary this month! Now these deeply imprinted memories are a source of fresh gratitude and comfort.

The Litany of Loreto [link] concluded our family’s after dinner ritual. I confess that as a 7 year old I took inordinate pride in being able to lead the entire Litany from memory! Today I find the images saccharine and archaic. But they set a foundation for which I am eternally grateful.

Today, I much prefer the Litany of Mary of Nazareth. The images are much more accessible and evocative for my heart. On this day in May – the month of Mary – I enthusiastically recommend it for your prayer:

Glory to you, God our Creator … Breath into us new life, new meaning.
Glory to you, God our Savior … Lead us in the way of peace and justice.
Glory to you, God, healing Spirit … Transform us to empower others.

Mary, wellspring of peace ………. Be our guide,
Model of strength…..
Model of gentleness…
Model of trust..
Model of courage
Model of patience
Model of risk
Model of openness
Model of perseverance

Mother of the liberator ………. Pray for us.
Mother of the homeless…..
Mother of the dying…
Mother of the nonviolent
Widowed mother
Unwed mother
Mother of a political prisoner
Mother of the condemned
Mother of an executed criminal

Oppressed woman ………. Lead us to life.
Liberator of the oppressed…..
Marginalized woman…
Comforter of the afflicted
Cause of our joy
Sign of contradiction
Breaker of bondage
Political refugee
Seeker of sanctuary
First disciple
Sharer in Christ’s ministry
Participant in Christ’s passion
Seeker of God’s will
Witness to Christ’s resurrection

Woman of mercy ………. Empower us.
Woman of faith…..
Woman of contemplation…
Woman of vision
Woman of wisdom and understanding
Woman of grace and truth
Woman, pregnant with hope
Woman, centered in God

Mary, Queen of Peace, we entrust our lives to you. Shelter us from war, hatred and oppression. Teach us to live in peace, to educate ourselves for peace. Inspire us to act justly, to revere all God has made. Root peace firmly in our hearts and in our world. Amen.
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Source: The Fire of Peace: A Prayer Book edited by Mary Lou Kownacki, OSB for Pax Christi USA

Let Us Pray!

Last week we got a thank you note from a friend who is living with a very serious melanoma. We had seen “Joe” at a social event and were grateful for his report of being in remission. As we have in the past we assured him of our prayers. Joe was deeply touched when we told him that his name was “in the box.”

We explained briefly that we have a “grocery list” of names on index cards. Lists go back four or five years by now. We toss the cards into a handsome 4×6 marble box we picked up at a garage sale for a few bucks. It sits on our kitchen table where we see it many times through the day.

Each evening before dinner we ask, “Who should we pray for today?” Generally, people we have seen that day or immediate needs take priority. But we often say, “And for everyone in the box” or silently touch the marble lid near at hand as we say “Amen.”

Joe’s thank you note really touched us. I guess it shouldn’t have, really. When you get down to it, what is it we all want? To be validated, recognized, valued, appreciated – to know when we take off our dress-clothes after a social event that we truly are in relationship and part of a caring community.

There is a whole lot more intercessory prayer going on than meets the eye! But one image has remained with me all week. It comes from First Communion Sunday at Christ the King. Such occasions bring out the multi-generational family like nothing else. A woman I would guess to be the great-grandmother of a well-represented clan knelt after communion with eyes closed and her hands gently clasped near her quiet lips. What must have been in this lovely matriarch’s heart?

Moses interceded before God innumerable times. The one that comes to mind in regard to the woman at Christ the King is recorded in Deuteronomy 9:25 – Moses lies prostrate in prayer before God for forty-days and nights. Similar “standing in the breach” is attributed to Jeremiah (18:20), Ezekiel (13:5 and 22:30) and many others in Scripture. Jesus teaches us to ask for what we need.

But who needs more testimony than the serene focus of a grandmother on First Communion Sunday? So, in her honor and on behalf of all those for whom we have offered to pray, please join me in what I imagine was on her heart:

For this reason I kneel before the Father,from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:14-19)

 

Doing Our Mothers Proud

Sunday will be the eighth Mothers Day without my Mom. I no longer turn away from the greeting cards prominently displayed at Target. Pop-ups offering flowers interrupting my web-surfing don’t make me sad as they did. Yet, I still miss my Mom and wish I could tell her again – with new insight and fresh motivation – how much I love her.

A few days ago I even posted a request on Facebook: share your best suggestion for how those of us who have lost our mothers are to mark this weekend holiday. Friends offered some great ideas: make one of her favorite recipes, do something she enjoyed doing, share favorite stories about her with others, visit someone in a nursing home.

The suggestion I like best did not come from Facebook but from columnist Nicholas Kristof. The world community is increasingly aware and outraged by the 276 school girls kidnapped by religious fanatics in Nigeria. His “update” from yesterday deserves to be read [here] regardless of his great suggestion for celebrating Mothers Day.

Neither Mr. Kristof nor I begrudge anyone celebrating our mothers with flowers, chocolates or out-for-brunch. I wish my Mom were here to enjoy them. Kristof’s brilliant idea is to celebrate them by honoring the girls still missing in Nigeria. Think of their mothers’ anguish.  In my family’s case this would be especially appropriate.

Regulars here will recall that my favorite Grandmother was orphaned at age 7 and sent from Boston to South Dakota on an orphan train. Her formal education ended at the third grade. My mother earned the highest score in her county on her eighth-grade standardized exam. However, cultural values prevented her from going to high school, despite the protestations of her teacher, because my grandparents presumed she had enough education for what they envisioned her future to be. (Read my previous post [here]).

The greatest threat to the extremism of the Nigerian kidnappers is a girl with a book. Boko Haram, whose name means roughly “Western education is a sin,” admits responsibility for this violent abuse being played out in Nigeria. The greatest antidote to their fanaticism would be to educate and empower women. I am absolutely certain my mother would agree.

Kristof offers a number of excellent suggestions: One would be a donation to support girls going to school around Africa through the Campaign for Female Education [link]; a $40 gift pays for a girl’s school uniform.

Or there’s the Mothers’ Day Movement [link] which is supporting a clean water initiative in Uganda. With access to water, some girls will no longer have to drop out of school to haul water.

You may wish to support something closer to home. This year I plan to send what I would have spent on flowers for my Mom to Avenues for Homeless Youth [link].  On any night in the state of Minnesota, 4,000+ youth and young adults are homeless and unaccompanied by an adult. Youth homelessness has jumped 63% in Minnesota since 2009.

Other than keeping the pressure of global outrage on the tragedy in Nigeria, there is little you and I can do to rescue the kidnapped girls. Whether our mothers are with us to receive our expressions of gratitude and love or they have passed from us, there is still so much we can each do to honor these girls and celebrate the lives of our mothers.

Let’s make them proud!

Christ, You and Me

Forty-nine children made their First Communion this weekend at Christ the King. Unlike 1958 when I made my First Communion at St. Cecilia Cathedral in Omaha, all the kids processed in with their parents. Most had a Mom and Dad but kids with only one parent were equally radiant. Families have enough challenges – great to see them so prominently celebrated!

Fr. Dale did his typically fine job of speaking directly with them during the homily. He recalled the childrens’ Baptisms and how the first question parents were asked is “What name do you give your child?” He bridged that with God also calling each of them today, uniquely, personally by their special name. Later, each child heard her or his name called forth inviting them to full communion at the Lord’s Table.

Without explicitly referencing St. Augustine’s frequent exhortation, “Be what you see! Receive what you are – Body of Christ!” Dale eloquently made the same point to the children. In receiving the Body and Blood of Christ (yes, he actually said “into your bellies”) the children were praised for the way they are now commissioned to be Jesus’ real presence in the world today.

We used the regular readings for the Third Sunday of Easter. Rich in their own right, they were freshly poignant in the context of First Communion. In the Acts of the Apostles a recently fear-filled and disloyal Peter was now courageously proclaiming Christ. Given what Dale had said to the kids, isn’t that what all who are called to the Table of the Lord are commissioned to do — give strong voice to our encounter with the Risen One?

The well-worn story of disciples returning home dejected on the road to Emmaus also carried fresh vitality. Previously, my attention has focused almost exclusively on their recognizing the Risen One in the Breaking of the Bread. Yes, a perfect text for First Communion!

But in the context of these families – with beaming grandparents, aunts, uncles, godparents in abundance – and Dale’s “sending-forth” of the children, something else hit me with fresh urgency. The dejected disciples turned around. They did not proceed home. They went back to Jerusalem to proclaim what they had experienced. They reconnected with community!

I, perhaps like most, struggle to find a faith community that is truly nurturing and feels like “home.” Like the families who processed in for First Communion, univocal definitions or one-size-fits-all no longer works in our homes or our churches.  Yes, we need new and differing models to give full expression to the Body of Christ.  As wonderful as St. Cecilia Cathedral was for my family in 1958 that model doesn’t cut it any longer.

But of this I am sure… we are all hungry, Christ calls each of us – every single one of us – uniquely by name, we all have a place with others at the Table, we are collectively sent to be Christ’s real presence for the world’s healing and flourishing, and we cannot do this alone but are continuously called back into the life-giving pulse of community.

Christ is risen! Yes, risen in you and me – or not at all!

Each Child: A Reason for Hope

The birth of a child is such reason for hope. The occasion brings joy and conjures dreams about what this child might become. This is true the world over!

One of the biggest new ideas in international development comes from economists, academics, doctors, politicians, and aid workers. There appears to be a broadening convergence of evidence confirming the profound ways in which proper nutrition in the earliest years of life influences a person’s ability to grow, learn, and work.

The 1,000-day period from the beginning of pregnancy to a child’s second birthday will largely determine your child’s health, ability to learn in school and perform at a future job. It all seems so obvious… proper nutrition for the mother and child, as well as good sanitation and personal hygiene, are vital to prevent stunting of the body and brain.

For years, ensuring good nutrition during the first 1,000 days was largely absent from national and global development priorities. Efforts to improve young lives and brighten future prospects focused on getting children into school. It has been in primary schools where interventions related to childhood nutrition usually begin.

Yes, global resolve and cooperation are essential. But all is not dependent on governments and creating new bureaucracies. Much is already within reach of families and villages. Farming needs to be diversified by growing more nutrient-rich crops for household consumption. Homes need to maintain clean living environments. Culturally ingrained behaviors such as women eating last at mealtime even when they are pregnant or breastfeeding must be challenged and changed.

In 2012 some of the world’s leading economists and development specialists gathered to consider a question: If they had an extra $75 billion to improve the state of the world, which problem would they solve first? The group declared that investments to eliminate hunger and malnutrition would do the world the greatest good. It found that improving child nutrition was also the most cost-effective intervention, with a return on investment of at least 30 to 1.

In essence, malnutrition keeps poor countries poor. This is true in the United States as well. We are beginning to acknowledge connections between poor nutrition in the 1,000 days and poor school performance, as well as increasing rates of obesity and diabetes.

When he hosted a Scaling Up Nutrition summit in 2012, Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel estimated that as many as 500,000 of the city’s citizens could be living in “food deserts” without nearby access to affordable vegetables, meat, and fresh fruits, leading to unhealthy diets centered on cheaper junk food and readily available fast food.

It is in these 1,000 days where so many of America’s social problems begin: failing health, failing students and schools, a weakened labor force and high crime rates. What might a single child have contributed to the world had he or she not been stunted during the first 1,000 days?

Every child is a reason for hope.  Each looks to us to be nourished and nurtured.  What are we to do?

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I am indebted to Roger Thurow’s brilliant article in the May 2014 issue of The Atlantic for this information. I encourage everyone to read his entire report [here].