Laetitia

I’ve been reflecting on my latest formation class about what it means to be a secular Franciscan. I was particularly stuck by the way of differentiating us from the friars and Poor Clares, who are religious. Benet Fonck says that seculars are witnessing more the incarnation, while the religious are witnessing more the resurrection. In other words, the friars and Poor Clares focus on being a witness of the kingdom to come and encourage us to live our lives like we actually believed in the resurrection. Secular Franciscans, however, point to something different.  We point to God who is with is in creation, even in the ordinary things that people overlook. We show this because we understand that God is bent low in love for us. 

I suppose it is because I have naturally been more adept at being secular that I so easily make the connection between food and religion. 

In fact, I came up with a whole theology of the martini. I saw how each component could really teach some interesting lessons. Indeed, I went on about this theology to my Conventual friend a few months back and his wry response was: “I’m sure after a few martinis there is much more you could add….” 

Such a response hightlights for me why some of us have to be resurrection people and some of us have to be incarnation people, although both are needed.  I for one think it would be a bloody shame not to be able to find theological connections in something like a martini. I’m not sure this is what Benet Fonck had in mind exactly, but I think you understand my point. I think?

Exciting news for the five people who read this blog: the sacred ingredients column has been converted into its very own blog! Go there now: http://sacredingredients.typepad.com/sacred_ingredients/

I’ll still be blogging away here as I journey through formation. But now to read the monthly sacred ingredients column, visit me over there.

In this instance, Guinness says let the other guy take the fall. And then benefit from it. Actually, this is a very dark ad, much like the beer itself. Yet, I find myself chuckling. I’m afraid to know what this says about me…

So the question I pose here is how ethical is it to benefit from someone else’s loss?

When I had just moved to New York in pursuit of a publishing career, Gourmet magazine helped direct me to Rosa Mexicano near Lincoln Center. At first taste of that perfect tangy saltiness of their pomegranate margarita, I knew I had to take my Franciscan friend, El Cheapo, there for his birthday.  

At the tail end of a debilitating cold and after fighting my way through the very wet streets in Manhattan on a stormy May evening, I entered Rosa Mexicano to find El Cheapo sitting in table near the bar, copious notes and a few books strewn across the table. He had been a chaplain over at Columbia then, working on Asian Studies with Wm. Theodore deBary. Pouring over Buddhist thought, he had been sitting there for over an hour in anticipation without even so much as a glass of water: “I asked if they would let me sit here, and the hostess let me.”  He said this with a bit of glee, like the cat that ate the canary, because he had been allowed to sit there without spending a dime. 

I sought to remedy the drink situation and ordered us both Rosa Mexicano’s famous Pomegranate Margarita. I expected he would like the contrast of flavors, but had not anticipated that he had never tasted tequila. I will never forget that look on his face when he first tasted the margarita, a mixture of surprise, delight and a profound realization of its potency. It deceptively looks puny as a red-violet, frozen concoction, but it packs a mighty punch. We finished half of it before we walked up their beautiful long staircase with its cascading waterfall on the wall.  

The one margarita was enough for me with the cold, and one margarita was most definitely enough for El Cheapo as he devoured his mole enchilada. I remember him commenting on how good the black beans were and could not help but wonder if indeed the tequila was now taking full effect. My suspicions were confirmed while were walking down the long stairs and I mentioned how the pomegranate has often been used in Madonna and Child paintings: 

“The pomegranate margarita was great, wasn’t it? The pomegranate has often been used in Madonna and Child paintings, so in a way we’re celebrating Mary. Here’s to Our Lady…” 

“Now you sound like my grandfather who would have crazy reasons like that for drinking. Our Lady of the Avocado…” 

“Uh, do you mean pomegranate?” 

“Yeah, what did I say?” 

“Avocado.” 

“Oh right. How funny, Our Lady of the Avocado…” 

The memory of the pomegranate margarita will stay with me. I maintain the importance of the pomegranate in Christian art, however. Above you will see Botticelli’s Madonna of the Pomegranate. The pomegranate here has been interpreted by art historians as representing the fullness of suffering of Christ’s passion. We see Mary holding it firmly, representing in my view the Church holding forth his Passion. This of course works well with the pomegranate’s dual meaning of representing the universality of the Church because of its many seeds. 

The pomegranate then has an interesting dual meaning: Christ’s passion and the universality of the Church. At first glance it seems rather divergent in meaning. We tend to think of universality or catholic (in the strictest sense of catholic meaning universal) in positive terms and see Christ’s passion in negative terms. However, Franciscan thought takes a different view. It is precisely through Christ’s passion and suffering that we see the God of humble love. We see what Bonaventure would call God bent low in love. In conforming our life to the sufferings of Christ’s passion, we embrace God bent low in love for us. This embrace is not only universal, but also evident in the many branches or seeds of the Church. In this way, Franciscan thought helps us see the dual meaning of the pomegranate actually flowing quite consistently. 

Because I enjoyed that pomegranate margarita immensely, I will share the recipe for it here: 

Rosa Mexicano’s Pomegranate MargaritaRecipe from: Roberto Santibanez, Culinary Director, Rosa Mexicano restaurants Servings: 1  

2 ounces white tequila

½ ounce Triple Sec

1 ounce fresh lime juice

1 tablespoon fresh pomegranate juice (can substitute bottled pomegranate juice)

6 ounces ice, or more

Garnish with lime wheel or wedge Directions: Mix all the ingredients in a blender until smooth and frothy. Serve in a chilled glass and garnish with lime.

As you enjoy the pomegranate margarita, may you also nod toward the Madonna of the Pomegranate.