Potluck
By Christina Berry
Christina Berry has served Presbyterian churches as an educator, youth leader and musician for many years. She was the writer for the Presbyterian Church (USA) Children's Mission Yearbook in 2003 & 2004, and has created many works for use in worship. Christina is presently preparing for the ordained ministry at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, and is the Director of Music at St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Austin, TX.

In the church where I grew up, the kitchen was in the basement. On potluck dinner days, the ladies did not linger in the vestibule after the service. They hustled down the stairs and put their aprons on. Their aprons were huge sleeveless cotton tunics that covered their ample bosoms. These were sturdy, no-nonsense German women, not interested in fashion. They judged every object in terms of its practical application. Often, we children fell into the harsh light of their judgment. As we were usually found wanting, we stayed away from the kitchen and out of range of their appraising stares – at least while they were working.

The men set up the tables and chairs. Rolls of paper came out to cover the tops. Then out came the metal folding chairs, and the high chairs. Toddlers sat on their parents’ laps, or in a folding chair on top of a Sears, Roebuck catalog, tied at the waist with a white cotton cup towel, so they wouldn’t fall out. Meanwhile, all the dishes that had been in ovens and on the stove tops during the service came to the tables. Meats first -- fried chicken, roast beef, meatloaf, hamburger patties, pork chops. Chicken and noodles, chicken and dumplings. And the casseroles! Poetic combinations: frozen green beans, cream of mushroom soup, canned tuna! Chicken pieces, rice, cream of chicken soup, peas and onions. The casseroles were what impelled us to go through the line with another child, who could identify his or her own mother’s dish, and give an honest critique: “No! – it has mushrooms in it” could preserve a whole spot on your plate. And you didn’t want to miss out on anything for lack of plate space.

Salads and fruits and vegetables came next. Jell-O counted as a vegetable at the church potluck. Another kid could tell you if his mom put marshmallows (yes!) into her concoction, or if she had slipped in celery (no!) under cover of the whipped topping.

Oh, and then – the desserts! There were as many desserts as there were Psalms. Apple cake, banana cake, fudge cake, sheet cake. Pie-apple, blueberry, peach, lemon meringue, chocolate cream, coconut cream. There were fluffy pink concoctions (containing unlikely objects such as pretzels or peas) that defied definition and so were between the desserts and salads. Like the Psalms, some of those desserts were laments. To get mincemeat pie when you thought it was chocolate and nuts – “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

None of this could happen until the preacher asked the blessing. All through the prayer we beamed the thought to him: “Say Amen! Say Amen! We prayed three times just a little while ago during church. If you keep talking to God, the steam won’t roll off the chicken and noodles when we spoon them over the mashed potatoes. Preacher, Miss Minnie is old. Hurry up that prayer about her so we can eat! She would want it that way.”

It was best to be still, looking prayerful, until the last AMEN rang out. A brave child would jockey for position in line during the prayer. The Bible verse you had memorized, “The last shall be first” didn’t seem to have any credence with these people. They always let the preacher go first; he had clearly never been last in any food line.

Finally you would get to the food. You were at the Promised Land. If your prayers were answered, if Jesus loved you, and if Anna Goertzen hadn’t had too much to do in the calf barn, you would get it all: Anna’s steaming homemade noodles, the chocolate pie, the red Jell-O with marshmallows, Margie’s fresh rolls, buttery and soft, even the green beans that only tasted good when Mildred made them. You would know grace, and plenty, and fullness. You would eat, and be satisfied. You would understand what it means to be at the joyful feast.

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