Eggplant Lasagna Recipe

I didn’t plan on writing tonight.  But as I prayed the sorrowful mysteries, God put into my heart thoughts on how HE CHOOSES to love us.  So often life seems a drudgery, and even if we try to do good, to be good, it seems like no one notices, or worse --- takes our goodness and turns it into our cross.  It’s what happened to Him.

I had volunteered to make dinner yesterday for the volunteers at the Open Door Ministry, which supplies groceries to the needy each Thursday afternoon.  There are sometimes up to 50 volunteers present, so I guesstimated up the ingredient requirements for my meal recipe, as well as the prep and cooking times.  The prep for so much food was long work, and I wondered if I’d finish in time, and as I neared the end of preparations I wondered if I had enough of the ingredients.  I made eggplant lasagna, which my friends enjoyed last month.  I was pleasantly surprised that I had exactly enough of each ingredient --- as I finished only a dusting was left in the breadcrumbs container.  And the cook time allowed for the two large containers of food turned out to be perfect; they were done at exactly the time I had to leave.

At the warehouse, I set things up on warming plates and then went to do my part of the volunteer work.  Volunteers were in short supply yesterday, work was pressured, but finally about 25 were present as Steve began his orientation speech before the families arrived to pick up food.  And at one point he got around to saying: “Oh, and we have dinner for all your volunteers tonight.  Tom cooked something – what is it? --- eggplant lasagna.  I haven’t tried it but please take the time to have some dinner later.”  Unsaid seemed to be a subtle --- oh no, a vegetarian thingy, yuck.  It led me to expect lots of leftovers.  And so, I went back to work, and with the shortage of workers, it was a hard work.

The hours passed quickly, as they do when you are busy.  And then I was surprised.  One by one, people began coming over to me, telling me how much they enjoyed my cooking.  A number wanted my recipe, and asked: “Can I take some home?”  And the word spread among the volunteers.  A few of the college students sought me out: “Did you make this?”  And they told me how great they thought the meal was.  I even got a fist bump and a (whatever the latest word is for “awesome” or “far out”, which I had never before heard, but understood.)

Tonight, in the chapel I prayed the Litany of Humility prayer, reading: “From the desire of being loved, deliver me Jesus.”  I pray that prayer sincerely, and don’t focus on doing things expecting thanks in return --- but it is “awesome” when that happens.

From a day of drudgery to a time of great thanks, and everyone remembering my name.  Days sometimes seem long and painful and it’s kind of hard to go on --- man, my back was sore from standing for 10 hours – but a thank you, and a couple of unexpected hugs, go a long way to helping you forget your pains.

It’s what Jesus foresaw as He underwent His Passion, and I reflected upon as I meditated on the Sorrowful Mysteries.  Pain and suffering, being alone, are hard.  But suffering and loneliness are not without reason, if we persist, and trust.

And as a reward for your persistence in reading these memories of mine, here is the recipe for that eggplant lasagna which so many (to their great surprise) really enjoyed last night --- there were no leftovers:

Eggplant Lasagna (For 6)

1 Large or two small eggplants
Breadcrumbs (I like Italian-flavored brands)
1 large jar of Bolognese Sauce (I used Mario Batali’s Sausage Bolognese)
Carton of Eggbeaters
Olive Oil
Mozzarella Cheese Slices
Grated Parmesan Cheese
3 tomatoes

Pick a large (or two small) eggplants and three tomatoes from the garden (it tastes better I you’ve grown your own).  Slice the eggplant into ½ inch or so slices, dip in eggbeaters, then coat with breadcrumbs.  Fry in olive oil in a large fry pan for about 3 or 4 minutes on each side.  Put on paper towels to drain a bit, then place in a deep cooking dish (about 12 x 12 x 5, or so).

Pace one layer of the eggplant, cover with a half jar of the Bolognese sauce, cover with a layer of thin-sliced tomatoes, and then a layer of mozzarella slices.  Do it again.  Sprinkle parmesan over the top to cover any non-cheese spots.  Bake at 350 for about 45 minutes, or until the top is pretty brown.  (While it is cooking, eat any leftover eggplant slices with salt.  Yum.)

Slice like lasagna, and enjoy.  Leftovers stay in the fridge well.  Remember when re-heating slices in the microwave that the slices are thick, and require at least 3-4 minutes on high to heat through.

A Sea of Blessings

The time at the chapel, saying night prayers, was most satisfying.  Riding home through downtown Plymouth, I saw the many people sitting outdoors at the bars and restaurants.  I dialed some friends and asked if they’d like to join me there, but it was not to be.  And so, I went home.

I turned on the backyard deck light, took out the CD player, opened a bottle of my best wine, and as I stepped outside the door, the light went out.  This was meant to be a dark, yet comfortable night, in a sea of blessings.

As Michael Crawford began to sing Andrew Lloyd Webber songs of love, my heart went back to events of this weekend, which I had so recently prayed and meditated over at the chapel.  And God was here with me.  The friend who showed up unexpectedly for breakfast, the stranger in the park who seemed no stranger, the blessings on a friend who felt so unblessed, and the soft solo singing, of the prayer I had just finished praying --- all these events were felt as great blessings.  God seemed to be whispering everywhere this weekend, and letting me hear.

The wonderful wine warmed my insides, even as my outsides relished the dead quiet, silence, darkness of the night in my backyard.  I swung slowly back and forth on the deck swing as I listened to the music, looked up into the dark skies, and saw eternity. 

Only you have the power to move Me
And together we’d make the whole world
move in sympathy.
Only you have the power to move Me.

Brighter than the darkest night,
Only you have the power to move Me.

The light from the den cast soft shadows on the hanging plants on the deck, full of the last blooms of the summer, full of beauty.  Beyond the words of the music, not a sound or whisper of breeze was heard in the black of the night.  Just God and I, seeing the beauty of His creation, His blessings.  And relishing the time together.  I often visit Him in His house; tonight, He visited mine.

Love --- Love changes everything.

Love can make a summer fly
or a night seem like a lifetime
Yes love --- love changes everything
How I tremble at Your name.

Nothing in the world will ever be the same.

The glass of wine is empty.  The music has stopped.  I go inside and time marches on.  But the sea of blessings is still out there, whether I take the time to swim in it or not.  But even if for only an hour, I felt God’s hug that I so yearn for.

On Being a Plow Horse

I’ve written on a number of occasions the importance of sowing seeds, my insights into that gospel on the parable of the sower.  I know I’ve stressed the importance of sowing God’s Word diligently, and letting God prepare the ground, water the seeds, and make them grow.  And I’ve written how most often we go through life and never know what happened to those seeds we’ve sown, crossing the life of another person, and tossing his way seeds of a new life.

But tonight, I’ve thought about that ground we toss those seeds on, those other people.  And I suddenly realized that my thoughts on being a sower were really somewhat prideful thoughts.  I “assumed” I had some good seed to provide another person AND that I was doing some “good” thing.  I just assumed I was the good guy in my story:  lead a good life, be a good example, tell of God’s Word --- and God will take care of the rest: whether people benefit from our seeds or not.  It’s His responsibility.

But is it?

Certainly, providing sun and rain --- grace --- to help any seeds I’ve sown grow is beyond me, but what of the soil I sow on?  What if the soils of the people I meet aren’t ready for the seed?  What if the soil is hard as a rock and hasn’t seen rain in years --- and may never expect it to rain again.  I know people who are so depressed with their lot in life.  And what if the soil is primed with the right nutrients to grow lemon trees, but I am sowing tomato seeds?

What if the soil of some people I meet isn’t prepared to receive ANY seeds I might sow?

This, I think, is something that I don’t think about, for a couple of reasons.  The first is that I don’t think it is my duty to change something so basic in a person’s life, his openness to new ideas.  And the second is that, truthfully, I know that doing so would be a very hard thing, perhaps totally unrewarding work, and work that may take many years of seeing no results.  I know many parents who feel the seeds of their efforts fruitless when scattered about their non-church-going kids.  I know dedicated employees who feel that way about their clueless bosses.  And I myself know of my neighbor who seems will never find Christ, nor ever stop needing my financial aid.  All of these sowers are very frustrated with seeing no results of their efforts, and sometimes think:  why bother?

But remember, St. Monica felt that way about her son, Augustine, too.

Remember the parable of the sower (Luke 8)?  Those who the seed did not flourish in were those who could not focus on receiving and nourishing the seed --- the cares of the world took away their focus.  That is where we might come in, to perhaps ease their cares, to take it as our burden to let them know they are not alone.  In some way, we need to focus on easing their worries so that they can focus on more important things --- like receiving seeds to grow their eternal life.

What we are talking about doing is not sowing seeds on these people, but being plow horses, tilling their soil.  We may feel like we’re going back and forth over old ground, back and forth, back and forth.  And for all we know all we are plowing up is rocks, which will never grow anything.  It is difficult to continue when we don’t see results.  But yet sometimes we feel that little prod, God telling us to continue.  And so, we must.  He has a plan for this field, everyone we meet, but we can’t see it.  And we may, in fact, never see it bloom --- because remember, we are not planting seeds, we are only plowing the soil.

And this is where trust comes in.  Trust that God wishes us to continue the hard work, no matter how useless it seems, AND, trust that He wishes this of us or a reason.

Seeing my responsibilities as being a jolly member of God’s family, tossing seeds for the benefit of others is a fairy tale look at a Christian’s life.  In much of our life we are meant to be plow horses, doing the hard work in the hot sun, and wondering if not us, then who will sow good seeds for this soil --- if ever?  And wondering if anyone cares.

We need to trust and recognize the blessings we have amidst these toils of our lives.  For even the most overworked plow horse gets fed, he gets watered, and is given rest, so that he can continue.  He is blessed.

In our lives, we need to be those diligent plow horses, who know they are blessed.  And even if it seems our burden is an endless one, for people who won’t appreciate our efforts, we must not forget the one who carried our burdens for us --- on a cross.  And He told us our yoke is easy and our burden is light, because He is with us.

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I began my prayers tonight as I usually do, meditating on the mysteries of the Rosary.  I only got into the first mystery, however, when the above thoughts intruded, strongly.  And so, I stopped and wrote most of the above, then continued with my rosary and the rest of my night prayers.  And it was only when I went to meditate on tomorrow’s gospel that I saw it was Luke 8, and then added the paragraph on why some seeds didn’t take.

I guess I wasn’t surprised to see that Gospel, after I had already meditated on it.  I think when God wants to tell us something, He tells us --- if we are listening.  I think I’m getting better at that ---- finally.