by Jessica Ryder-Khalil

Today’s guest post by frequent contributor Jessica Ryder-Khalil is the perfect read for everyone seeking peace during the flurry of preparations this holiday season.

My family’s shortbread dough is comprised of just three ingredients: flour, sugar, and butter.  I baked this recipe for many years before recognizing how these three ingredients could be a metaphor for the Trinity, the All-Holy three in one and one in three. When I learned how to “practice the presence of God” from Brother Lawrence, I could see dancing away in the mixing bowl an example of the mysterious nature of God in a sweet perichoresis, sharing the same essence in their necessity to the whole. Of course, these spontaneous moments are not exhaustive theological treatises about the Persons of the Trinity. They are simply gifts of time shared with God available to everyone willing to seek Him in the ordinary.  

The recipe is one handed down from my Scottish great-grandma and has been treasured by generations. Shortbread was the flavor of Christmas, and every trip to grandma’s house was an opportunity to sneak to the cookie jar for a taste. But as I grew in my Orthodox faith I found, to my surprise, that the process of making the cookies became sweeter than tasting the final product. All of a sudden, these simple ingredients and common kitchen tools were leading me to Bethlehem to gaze upon St. Mary and our blessed Savior. As the dough was churning away, I fondly recalled the stories my grandmother would tell me of her aunties and their advice: the longer you work the dough, the richer the shortbread will be.   Perhaps my great-great-aunties advice would ring true for this culinary meditation too–the longer we abide in His presence, the richer our experience will be.       

Reflecting on that special batch, I remember Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection and his wise counsel to think about and talk to God during all our daily tasks. He called this ongoing inner activity the “practice of the presence of God.” Brother Lawrence attempted a life of monastic seclusion, but found he needed to submit himself to a spiritual rule and joined the Discalced Carmelites of Paris in the mid-1600s. He didn’t care for the manual labor involved in community monastic life, especially kitchen duty. However, by talking with God throughout the day his work became a source of joy. Conversations and letters of this monk are recorded in the book by the same name, The Practice of the Presence of God.  In it, Brother Lawrence advises, “we should establish ourselves in the presence of God, talking always with Him.” 

Juggling cookie trays and judging baking times can get tricky, especially with kids underfoot and other chores waiting, making it abundantly clear why Brother Lawrence felt exasperated by the sink full of dirty dishes. The behind-the-scenes work can feel mundane and even useless. Or worse, our anxiety and rushing can rob us of our joy. In short, our Christmas efforts might be nothing but folly. Brother Lawrence comments, “It was sad to see so many people mistake the means for the end, who for reasons of human respect attach great importance to works they do very imperfectly” (pg. 48). The work of the Nativity season–the baking, decorating and giving–can only be sanctified if we remain in His presence while doing it. Sanctifying our time begins with patiently waiting for the Lord while purposefully working. By serving St. Elizabeth and preparing a home for the Son of God, this is what St. Mary and St. Joseph did.   

The next step in making shortbread is to roll out the dough. When you take out the lump from the bowl, there are bumps and cracks and pieces that fall off altogether. One of my favorite personal Advent traditions is listening to the Christmas section of Handel’s Messiah, which starts with the prophecies from the Book of Isaiah: “Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain” (Isaiah 40:4). Rolling out the dough, I try to get as flat and smooth a surface as possible before getting out my cookie cutter. Indeed, the rough places will be made plain through the Incarnation of the Lord Jesus Christ. The broken will be mended, reconciled, and made ready to be shaped in the likeness of the Divine Image.        

Another family Nativity tradition involves getting out the family copy of On the Incarnation by St. Athanasius. This important theological work informs the next step of the shortbread production, cutting the cookies. The great Alexandrian patriarch instructs us that God in His goodness would not have made humans with a rational mind if he did not wish them to know Him. He writes, “So, lest this should happen [humans not know God], being good he bestowed on them his own image, our Lord Jesus Christ and made them according to his own image and according to his likeness, so that…knowing the Creator they might live the happy and truly blessed life” (pg. 60-61). He took our shape, so that we might be conformed to His. Thus, the cookies are cut into stars, circles, diamonds, as we are also sculpted into something precious to God.      

Next, the shortbread goes into the oven and the prophet Malachi guides us through the baking time. “For He is like a refiner’s fire…and He shall purify the sons of Levi…that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness” (Malachi 3:2-3).  Unlike many cookies that brown while baking, shortbread is perfect when it is firm, but the color is still white. This brings to mind King David and his song of repentance, “Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow”  (Psalm 50:7). When the shortbread has cooled, it is time to package the cookies up and give them away. The sweet, slightly crunchy treat is too good to keep to ourselves. We are invited to “taste and see that the Lord is good,” in our inner life of anticipating the restoring, saving Incarnation (Psalm 34:8).  

I remember Christmas growing up as a month of constant indulgence and decadence: toys, candy, cookies, and more. As an Orthodox Christian now, I am very grateful that the month preceding the Nativity Feast is one of waiting and watching. It struck me one day that perhaps many of my fellow Christians also feel something is amiss with the season. Then, over the radio piped the voice of Amy Grant and her song “I Need a Silent Night.” In it she muses, “I need a silent night, a holy night to hear an angel voice through the chaos and the noise. I need a midnight clear, a little peace right here to end this crazy day with a silent night.”  Dear Amy, it isn’t just a silent night that is needed, but as Brother Lawrence put it, we need the practice of the presence of God. We need to seek Him in the ordinary; we need to watch for Him while we work, as those shepherds in their fields did many years ago.      

In a letter to a “Woman in the World,” Brother Lawrence advises, “God does not ask much of us…the least little remembrance will always be pleasing to Him. There is no need to cry very loudly, for He is nearer to us than we think…We may make a chapel of our heart whereto we may escape from time to time to talk with Him quietly, humbly and lovingly” (pg. 68). It is a comfort that giving to Him from what He has already given to us is enough, if we only look and listen, watch and wait.   

Jessica Ryder-Khalil is a frequent contributor to Being in Community. She is a wife and mom of four children between the ages of 16 and 7 years of age.  She is a servant at St. Mary Magdalene Church in Gainesville, FL and is working towards an MTS degree from St. Athanasius & St. Cyril Theological School.  Jessica was baptized into the Coptic Orthodox Church 17 years ago and is a continual learner along the path to Orthodoxy. Before family life took the lead role, Jessica taught English as a Second Language both abroad and in the USA. Her previous posts include Death, Roses, and Resurrection, An Hour in a Few Minutes, Spiritual Warfare Everywhere, and What My Mom Taught Me About Authenticity. Text and photos (c) Jessica Ryder-Khalil, 2023.

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