My key ring’s getting a bit bashed up. I bought it six years ago, when I had just completed the Camino de Santiago. As you can see, the yellow paint is chipping away. I liked the key ring a lot then – I’d just spent a month walking across Spain, following spray-painted yellow arrows all the way. They are there to keep the pilgrims on track. And, for the most part, they work. Even through the Spanish rain, they seem to glow. Like most pilgrims, I grew a real fondness for those little arrows. So I bought the key ring.
I liked the idea of walking around with one of those arrows in my pocket. Maybe I could pull it out anytime I got lost. Maybe it would help with direction.
Sadly, unsurprisingly, once the arrow was attached to my house keys, I thought about it very little. A sad and obvious comment about discernment, I suppose. You can’t get it right by acquiring cute tools. Ah well.
Right now, I only have one key on the ring, as you can see. The big bundle of keys from the London church have been left there, and our new home only has one key to get in through the front door.
But soon, I’ll be carrying more around again. My family’s pilgrimage, thanks to the Spouse’s academic shininess, has landed us in Edinburgh for a lengthy pause, and I’ve just found work. I will be working at Canongate Kirk, helping out with the families ministry and the general nuts and bolts of congregational life. It’s an ancient church, founded in 1688, when James VII moved the congregation up the street from Hollyrood Abbey. The new building was finished in 1691. Let’s put that date into more familiar context perhaps. In 1691, Canada was still enjoying the early days of New France.
So, imagine standing up in a building that old with something to say. Luckily, maybe mercifully, my first responsibility in the building was reading scripture. And yes, it was the anticipated lectionary. Ten Commandments. Paul’s comments to the Philippians about running the race and pressing on to the goal. And Jesus’ parable about the vineyard and the greedy servants. Mighty words. Thanks be to God.
The morning before I got to stand up with the Decalogue, there was a congregational coffee morning, and that, perhaps, was the real welcome my family needed. Baked goodies abounding, bazaar tables piled high, jelly candies and china cats, chocolate biscuits, juice boxes, a book table, and lots and lots of cheerful people to meet. Just what you need to put down roots.
And then a raffle.
You know how these things go. You give the kids the numbers to read. The little one gets restless, and you get distracted, but the big one wants to win. She double-checks each number, straining with attention. Numbers go by, nothing remotely close. The little one stops squirming and gets interested in clapping his hands loudly after each win. You try to keep him happy, but calm. The congregation members swap jokes about the prizes, gently heckling. Someone wins twice. The big one grows quiet. Then, the last number is called out once. Twice. No answer. They decide to pull out another. And Beangirl wins. She glows with victory and anticipation on the long walk up to the table from the back of the hall. But the raffle prizes never were great for kids, and the only one left is a bottle of room freshener. So, Daddy gets to hold that, and Beangirl is given the most enormous handful of candies you have ever seen.
Completely perfect.
This is the kind of congregational event that I can’t seem to attend empty handed, so I did bring a cake to contribute. The recipe is a bit of fall-back for me – easy, peasy lemon squeezy, as Beangirl would say. Just like winning the raffle. It’s based on Nigella Lawson’s Banana Ring (from her super book Feast), but I’ve changed it up a little, and we call it Banana Slice Cake. Here it is for you.
Banana Slice Cake with Figs
3 bananas, the softer the better
¼ cup corn oil
3 eggs
Zest and juice of ½ a lemon
1 ½ tsp vanilla
1 cup brown sugar
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
6 dried figs, chopped finely and with the hard stems removed
Directions
Preheat oven to 350˚ and butter your Bundt pan.
Mash bananas (or let the kids do this part) and then add the rest of the wet ingredients and the sugar. When blended together, fold in the dries.
Pour into your pan and bake for 40 minutes. The baked cake needs to sit for a few minutes in its pan before turning it out onto a plate. Devour warm or cold.
At Christmas, I tend to add cranberries, frozen or dried, to this. It is also nice with nuts, poppy seeds, candied ginger, dried apple, etc, etc, etc.
Enjoy.
