Why I can't just stick to recipes and prayers

a reflection, a prayer, and a recipe to start your week

Feb 16, 2025

I intended to devote this week’s email to the topic of fasting in 17th-19th century America—from the early Puritans to the New Thought movement, which is to say from the use of fasting as a religious tool to one of self improvement.

But as the week went on, I decided that I need to speak to something else instead. For that reason, this week’s email is for all subscribers, both paid and free.

Three days ago, vans filled with masked and armed ICE agents stalked my neighborhood before raiding a home a few blocks away. They arrested three men from India, sparking fear in the Indian American community in this region—many of whom are here on H1B visas and working in tech. The day before that, a fake ICE van drove through the neighborhood to terrorize our Hispanic community.

When the agents descended on the home, neighbors immediately rushed to the men’s defense, demanding proof of the agents’ warrant and ensuring the men understood their rights (no warrants were ever shown, and we do not know where the men have been taken). In the days since, more neighbors have committed to learning about immigrants’ rights so that they can better protect our community the next time ICE (or Proud Boys pretending to be ICE) comes through.

As I mixed up dough on Thursday evening and baked it off on Friday, preparing the Bread Shed for neighbors to come pick up their weekly orders, I prayed as I do each week for my neighborhood. To make and serve bread in this way is not a revolutionary act. It’s fun and small and could feel meaningless, but it’s my form of community care.

And that kind of community care is a small step in building the type of neighborhood that jumps into action when our own are in danger.

I’ve received several comments, emails, and messages in recent weeks asking me to stick to pretty recipes and prayers, leaving the politics out of it. The assumption is that the only way to be politically engaged is to lean into a partisan identity, and as a result I am only gleaning my news from hyper-partisan sources (I can assure you this is not true!).

The assumption is also that my recipes and prayers have been apolitical in the past, and there’s no need for them to be political now.

I spoke to this several times in 2024, but I want to speak to it once again—not because I wish to hammer you over the head, but because I don’t want you to be surprised by the ways current events work their way into my work.

I have from the very beginning of my public writing said that my work is inherently political.

I write about community and building deeper communal lives. To care about community means to care about the policies that help and that harm those around us. To engage with these policies is to engage with politics.

My research on dinner churches started because I was interested in how both food and the table might be tools for conflict transformation, inspired by writers in gastro politics. This was more explicitly put into practice when I began writing We Will Feast, as my research took place in the fall of 2016 and spring of 2017. I received a firsthand picture of how the table was a space to navigate fraught conversation in the midst of the first Trump administration.

To be politically engaged does not require us to lean into partisan identities. The conflation of the two is what has landed us in this huge mess in the first place. Our two party system limits our options at the voting booth—we each vote according to our convictions in the face of incredibly limited choice.

But we have many options for how we engage and what we demand of our elected officials in the months between those elections.

No matter who you vote for, you can speak out against unjust policies. You can speak out against the erosion of our constitution. You can speak out against the refusal to operate within the checks and balances that are the cornerstone of our democracy. You can speak out against the dehumanization of people made in the image of God: of immigrants, the elderly, disabled, and more. You can ask your representatives to uphold the dignity of their constituents and demand that they live out the promises they made to uphold the constitution.

This is our duty as Americans (I realize that this audience is international in scope, so please forgive my distinctly American lens, I hope that you understand my sense of urgency here!) and our duty as Christians who are called to protect the vulnerable among us.

There is something else that I hear, though, in the request to stick to recipes and prayers. It’s a desire for room to breathe—for a space to escape from the exhaustion of the political madness today.

That is a desire to which I am very sympathetic. And one I do believe my work is uniquely equipped to address.

My hope is that in my writing and resources, I create that space for you to slow down and breathe. I want to provide you with tangible, accessible steps to take when your world feels like it's falling apart. This is not to allow you to stick your head in the sand and ignore what’s going on, but to provide the space to rest so that you have the strength to face what’s ahead.

This rest is meant to help you pray with your body when you don’t have words, drawing nearer to God and trusting God’s presence and guidance in the face of fear.

This rest is meant to help foster in you compassion for those you might not know or whose experiences you might not understand so that you can better advocate for their needs.

This rest is the soil out of which more fruitful, community-minded political work can grow.

One way to rest? Join Lent Sourdough

Over the last nine years of my own public writing, I’ve reiterated this posture many times. But my areas of expertise never overlapped with any particular policies at stake, which meant I focused on community care in a somewhat abstracted sense.

The confirmation of RFK, Jr. as the head of the department of Health and Human Services this past week changes things for me. My writing about clean eating and Biblical dieting and the development of 20th century American food intersect directly with the policies he plans to put forth. I understand quite intimately the concerns that allowed him to garner support—and I also understand the dangers he poses to public health. Finally, I understand the burnout around the corner for those who have given their lives to the wellness world, often in a genuine attempt to find healing while feeling overlooked by traditional medicine. Because of this understanding, I have even more of a sense of urgency to share about the political implications of this research. I will expand on what this means in future weeks, but I don’t want you to be surprised by this particular political turn.

Through it all, though, I hope that my approach will remain the same: offering a gentle path forward, encouraging us all to do our best to seek the goodness of God in the midst of a broken and aching world. If you feel overwhelmed, weary, or unsure how to proceed, I hope you find a soft place to land right here.

God of Community,

you spent the first six days of creation
making plants, animals, and trees.

You placed humanity in the garden
to tend and to eat,
then you took time to rest.

You both command and invite us
to do the same:
to find our rest in You.

Let our rest nourish us
so we can care for creation and for community
as deeply as you do.

Give us strength, courage, and humility
as we navigate the days ahead.

Amen.

Chocolate Cherry Bread

a favorite of mine, and fitting for this Valentine’s weekend

½ cup whole wheat flour
¼ tsp yeast, instant or active dry
1 1/2 cups room temperature water, divided
3 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp salt
1/3 cup dried cherries
1/3 cup chocolate chips

In a large bowl, mix together the whole wheat flour, yeast, and ½ cup of water. Let sit for half an hour.
While the wheat mixture sits, pour the hot tea over the golden raisins and let sit for twenty minutes. The tea should cool in this time.
Add the remaining water and flour to the wheat mixture. Mix until it comes together into a shaggy dough. Let sit for half an hour.
After the dough has finished its second rest, sprinkle the salt over the dough and squeeze the dough until the salt is incorporated. Next, sprinkle the cherries and chocolate over the dough. Stretch and fold the dough 12-16 times until the fruit and chocolate are dispersed and the dough is smooth.
Cover loosely with a damp tea towel or plastic and let rest at room temperature for 10-12 hours.
Half an hour before you are ready to bake, shape the dough into a tight round then preheat the oven to 425°F. If you are baking in a Dutch oven, place it in the oven to preheat too.
Once the oven is heated and the dough shows signs it is fully proofed, bake the loaf for 45 minutes. Let cool and enjoy!

if this technique for baking bread is new to you, you can learn more about the method in my book Bake & Pray*

Last Sunday, The Daily’s Sunday Read was an article about raw milk. I was a regular raw milk drinker for many years, and while I don’t currently feel safe consuming it (especially with the unknown nature of the bird flu) I am closely acquainted with and sympathetic to the reasoning behind it. This article was the most thorough analysis I’ve come across of both the benefits and dangers of raw milk. If you’re not sure why this topic is one of such debate, I encourage you to listen here.

Yonni Applebaum wrote for the Atlantic about the ways the loss of mobility has impacted American culture—the fix in a nutshell: we need a culture of people that move more. I’m not fully sure I buy this argument, as I’m a strong believer that we need deeper connection to place enabled by a commitment to staying where we are. But I find the economic and cultural argument intriguing.

Last fall, Amanda Held Opelt and I gathered with 20+ new friends in the mountains of Western North Carolina to bake, pray, and worship. It was such a special time together and we cannot wait to do it again!

We’ll be meeting and eating at the historic Mast Farm Inn and baking down the road at Johnson Hall at the Valle Crucis Conference Center. It’s a time of rest, renewal, community, and more.

I’d love to have you there!

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