“…Once you are seated, the first order of business is to address yourself to the onion at hand…You will note, to begin with, that the onion is a thing, a being, just as you are.  Savor that for a moment.  The two of you sit here in mutual confrontation.  Together with knife, board, table, and chair, you are constituents of a place in the highest sense of the word.  This is a Session, a meeting, a society of things.”                                                            ~Robert Farror Capon, The Supper of the Lamb

I’m dedicating this post to the ONION for two distinct reasons:

One, we host a small group for twenty-somethings in our home every Tuesday evening and because temps have dipped below freezing, I decided to make a giant pot of potato soup.  I needed two large onions for the recipe, which triggered a memory of reading the above passage about the onion, jarred into my thoughts like juice burns one’s eyes every time a cut is made into such a specimen.

It was a delight to peel almost forty pounds of potatoes, praying for each guest by name.  On the other hand, there were moments of extreme tiredness and waves of self-pity worked tirelessly to draw me in as tears from onion juice poured down my cheeks.  I resisted the temptation and returned to joy because THIS was my choice, my gift and who doesn’t love receiving gifts.

And two, the onion is a powerful vegetable, worthy of a blog post, right? Well, it is. but that’s not the second reason.

Honestly, I get a sense my life is shedding skin.  Delicate onion-skin…

“Be careful.  In the ordinary processes of cooking, the outer skin of a sound onion is removed by peeling away the immediately underlying layers of flesh with it.  It is a legitimage short cut; the working cook cannot afford the time it takes to loosen only the paper.  Here, however, it is not time that matters, but the onion.  Work gently then,lifting the skin with the point of your knife so as not to cut or puncture the flesh beneath.  It is harder than you may have thought.  Old onion skins give up easily, but new ones can be stubborn.” (Italics mine.)

Whether I’m an ‘old onion skin which easily gives up my skin’ is debatable. The skin is dry either way and “it’s not a dusty dry like potatoes, but smoothly and thinly dry, suggesting not accidental desiccation, not the withering due to age or external circumstances, but a fresh and essential dryness. Dryness as an achievement, not as a failure. Elegant dryness. Deliberate dryness.”

How is it possible that such a description of the slow process of peeling the onion along with its dry-paper covering adequately paints a picture of what the Spirit of God is gently doing in my life?

I’m not sure I can write a sufficient post regarding the onion and God’s work in me as he is methodically revealing real flesh, true joy and The deep life that was birthed in me the moment I welcomed His Spirit in. The evidence would suggest there has been more than a mere cutting off of my old nature, but a desperate passion to flavor those He is sending my way.  To feed them with the Bread of Life and food that opens their hearts for more of Him…this is pure juice and the tears which accompany my choice to be cut open are good tears, happy tears.

 

“Reflect what a soul the onion must have, if it boasts such juices.  Your eyes will not yet have begun to water, nor the membranes of your nose to recoil.  The onion has only, if you will, whispered to you.  Yet you have not mistaken a syllable of its voice, not strained after a single word.  How will you stop your senses when it raises this stage whisper to a shout?”

This onion, full of juices, is a strong smell that either draws people to the kitchen or repels them as bad breath. Whether we know it or not, the onion is a great example of how our Creator gives attention to detail and uses all things to teach mankind about Him and His character.

But do we take the time to quiet our brain and take it all in?  Any of it?  Do we rush through life cutting onions and eating food that only lasts so long?

“Perhaps now you have seen at least dimly that the uniqueness of creation are the result of continuous creative support, of effective regard by no mean lover.  He likes onions, therefore they are.  The fit, the colors, the smell, the tensions, the tastes, the textures, the lines, the shapes are a response, not to some forgotten decree that there may as well be onions as turnips, but to His present delight–His intimate and immediate joy in all you have seen, and in the thousand other wonders you do not even suspect.”

It has been a great lesson for me to reflect on the onion.  I would highly recommend reading the book as well as the exercise on discovering the onion.  You may be pleasantly surprised at all it teaches you as well.