Let Us Eat Cake

by Dan Masterton

This piece was originally published on August 13, 2024.

You ever accidentally overlook the Old Testament? Maybe you’ve dismissed is as “angry God” stories. Maybe you were too spaced out at Mass to plug in before the Gospel. Maybe you just get overwhelmed by ancient city names and descriptions of ethnic peoples in the ancient Middle East.

This past Sunday was one of those lucky Sundays when I was raring and ready to go for that first reading, and it hit me just right. A reading from the First Book of Kings. Ok ok — one of my favorite Old Testament stories, which describes the “a light silent sound” comes from 1 Kings (1 Kgs 19:11-13). Turns out, this is the bit that comes right before that. And it hit me just right.

Click that link above to read it yourself, and then let’s do the quick-and-dirty outline here:

• Elijah goes way out in the desert
• Elijah plops down under a tree and prays for death(!)
• Elijah falls asleep and is visited by an angel who touches him and gets him up
• There’s suddenly food and drink for him — a “hearth cake” and “jug of water”
• He falls back asleep, gets restarted by the angel, eats and drinks again
• Now he is up for a 40-day-and-40-night trek to the Mountain of God (LFG)

I feel you, Elijah. This looks lethal, but it also looks quiet and solitudinous… hmm…

Elijah is a vibe. He is a mood we can all identify with at times. Two populations came to mind on that steamy Sunday morning in a crowded church north of Dallas with my wife’s family:

• Parents nearing the end of summer — especially those who are stay-at-home parents or flexed their work significantly to be with their kids more while school is off (I am this)
• Teachers, admins, and school staff returning for a new academic year (I was this for several years)

I can safely say that many of this summer’s days and weeks would’ve sent me on a long walk into the desert to pray for death — metaphorically of course. There is no amount of preparation and actual activity that could fully satisfy and exhaust my dear children in summer. And while many memories and special days make it more than worth it, the dreaded and feared “What are we gonna do now?” sliced right through me every time.

I know I can also say that even the sunniest, most zealous educator of youth has gotta have a bit of the “Sunday scaries” on the cusp of a new school year. The thought of learning all new names, navigating new rules and admins and apps and policies, and all the interpersonal juggling ahead might send you out in the footsteps of Elijah as well.

But there is good news, as always, with God and Christ.

You may not be visited by a literal angel and you may not receive literal hearth cakes and water jugs, and if a Google Image search is any clue, the literal hearth cake may not be all that appetizing (looks grainy, dude, like, I need every drop of that jug of water to chew those). But with prayerfulness, personal attentiveness and awareness, and some degree of receptivity to those close to you who care for you (and maybe even new folks who will come along), God does point us toward those who can give us the angelic touch, who can feed us with the hearty daily bread, and who can nourish us with that needed drink.

As a teacher, I think of the first students I encountered at my first job who welcomed me so warmly and diluted away my nerves. I think of the chaplain at my second job who was such a compatible and constructive partner that I can’t imagine any other explanation for our meeting than the Holy Spirit. I think of my mentor-teachers at my third job who helped me hit the ground running and steeped me in pedagogy and accompaniment skills that rounded me out in ways I never would’ve found otherwise.

As a parent, I think of the kind librarians awaiting at story times this fall for my baby daughter. I think of the kind teachers who have gotten to know our family and welcome us back so warmly and personally. I think of the parent-friends who we’ve gotten to know and how we’ve learned from raising our kids side by side in our community.

I believe the way out of fear and anxiety (in the sub-clinical sense) is to have eyes and hearts open so that you can receive this love and let it help you. It’s Mr. Rogers’ exhortation to look for the helpers. It’s the humility to accept help during a flood from the radio announcement, the man in the rowboat, and the ladder dropped from the helicopter. It’s the vision to see Christ in the man risen from the tomb and the breaker of bread who broke open the Scriptures on the road to Emmaus, and how that same Christ comes before us in our brothers and sisters each day.

Parents, our kids will look and sound different to us when they come home from six-plus hours of school.

Educators, your students will look and sound different as they come to you for fresh help in their growth.

God is dropping hearth cakes like bread crumbs, leaving cold drinks like it’s an open bar, and moving in grace and the Holy Spirit with 24-7 angelic touch. Here’s to being able to identify it and welcome it.