From my earliest memories, I can recall eating barbecue. Growing up, such things as barbecued ribs, barbecued chicken, smoked mullet, and more were fair game on our dinner table. Even burgers and hot dogs were given the charcoal treatment quite a bit. And all in all, it's made a lasting impression on me. While some call a pot roast and veggies or a big Thanksgiving turkey comfort food, barbecue is my sweet comfort. And while I worked toward preparing some for dinner the other night, I found myself considering the spiritual allegory of good barbecue.
Now, when I speak of good barbecue in this sense, I'm talking about the school of "low and slow". We're speaking the language of smoked ribs, chicken, brisket, and butts. And incidentally my choice this fine day was a nice Boston butt roast. I spent the evening before slathering it in a dry rub, massaging the meat with the spicy rub until it took on the maroon color. Then it was into the fridge for the night. In the meantime, I prepped my grill and had things ready so I could get an early start.
Early came, well, early and I lit the charcoal at 5 that morning. By 5:30 AM the butt was on the grill, over indirect heat and beginning to absorb a unique combination of mesquite and hickory smoke. This continued all day, maintaining a base temperature of about 220-240 degrees and ensuring that there were always fresh wood chips on top in order to generate that much coveted smoke. I watched throughout the day as the meat took on a dark, almost black hue yet was still tender and nice to the touch. Carefully I'd baste it about once an hour with a simple blend that ensured a moist end result. This continued until about 6 PM when I finally relented and pulled the meat from the grill.
The payoff was instant. After allowing the roast a few minutes to rest and to allow the juices to redistribute throughout the meat, I took a couple of forks and began pulling the meat apart in order to make pulled pork. It fell off in juicy, tender ribbons of flesh, filling the room with a, dare I say, heavenly aroma. Every nose in the house perked up at the sweet smell coming from the kitchen as I pulled, pulled, pulled that beautiful barbecue into shreds. Finally, we sat down to eat and to partake of a hard day's work. Let it suffice to say, it was well worth my time.
But as I went through these motions last week, I truly did see spiritual parallels between barbecue and life. It may be that I've too much time on my hands but, well, that's my perogative, isn't it? But consider this: Barbecue begins with preparation, with an intentional move toward preparing the food and allowing it to develop, to season and take on the flavors of the rub. This is in many ways like our spiritual infancy, as we build ourselves up in study of the Bible, through prayer, and acts of service. Once the meat is on the grill, things require steadfastness and care, as one takes care to ensure a proper temperature and must tend to the meat as needed as well. Plus, a keen sense of patience must be held onto as the process of cooking takes place over hours and hours. A lesser person might just want to throw it in a Crock Pot for a couple of hours! And like our spiritual lives, we too find ourselves needing to simply tend carefully to the simple things, working out our salvation in the day to day as we wait for that moment when things will make more sense. In that time, we must be patient and considerate of those things which take place around us. Finally, we're allowed to remove the meat, to carve it for service, and to partake of it. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to find the spiritual parallel there, now does it?
Anyway, I just thought it was interesting as I cooked that day. It is a beautiful process and one that I look forward to doing again soon!
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