Cup by Cup: Evangelization of Culture
When Pope St. John Paul II established the Pontifical Council for Culture, he expressed in a pithy way the close connection between faith and culture: “A faith that does not become culture is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived.”[1] Of course, his statement is not only pithy, but challenging as well. Without finding expression in culture, our faith remains incomplete, imperfect, only a shadow of what it ought to be. If culture, then, is one of the principal fruits of faith, it is unsurprising that the work of the New Evangelization includes a cultural dimension as well.
The work of evangelizing culture is broad and multifaceted. Culture refers to a rich and complex reality comprised of traditions, artifacts, ways of thinking and acting, both individually and socially. For this reason, the work of fostering the cultural expression of faith is a wonderfully multifaceted work, drawing on the gifts and talents of many in the Church.[2] This work is also gradual. Accordingly, we often hear phrases like “little by little,” “brick by brick,” “step by step.”
Scott Hefelfinger shares coffee with students and staff at the Augustine Institute.
Putting these two dimensions together means that we each have our own little role to play, and, personally, I prefer to work on transforming culture “cup by cup.”
This thought came to mind when, some weeks ago now, I had the opportunity to share some of the coffee I roast at home with my students and fellow coworkers here at the Augustine Institute. Coffee roasting has been a hobby of mine for almost a decade now and what I appreciate about it—beyond the tasty final product, of course—is the way it reminds me of the dominion granted to humans in the first creation account in Genesis. “Fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth” (Gen 1:28). In this verse, the idea is not to dominate or plunder the earth, but to be a steward of the earth, faithfully guiding it to its full fruition, in service of man and God.[3] Sometimes this process is relatively humble: the discovery of an edible plant leads to its planting, harvesting, and eating. Sometimes it is a little more elaborate: the culinary arts exemplify the human touch elevating what nature gives to something splendid. And sometimes it is truly divine: “Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made. It will become for us the bread of life.”
Now, coffee is not divine. But it is nevertheless an astounding thing; astounding because of the elaborate interplay of natural processes and human craft. Our morning cup of coffee seems so simple: some brown coffee, some clear water, and usually with the push of a button or the flip of a switch, voilà—a steaming hot cup of joe. But I find it a marvel that we drink coffee at all. Coffee begins as a plant that typically grows in only a very select number of regions in the world. The reason for this is that the plant thrives in an environment both tropical and mountainous…oh, and it does best under the shade of old growth forest. Growing in this unusual combination of conditions, the coffee tree produces a richly colored fruit, showcasing hues of bright yellow, brilliant red, or deep purple. The fruit contains a goodly seed, the coffee bean. But to get from the fruit to cup requires an immense amount of work, culture, and craft. Fruit is picked, skin and pulp removed, seeds are washed, then fermented, then washed again, and then carefully and evenly dried through frequent agitation and rotation; this dried out seed is then precisely roasted, rested, and finally ground up to be mixed with water in a variety of ways to make, at last—coffee.
I sometimes wonder: how did we ever get from a fruit-bearing plant to a cup of coffee? However that miracle transpired, it’s clear that in general we did it as an exercise in dominion over the earth, through attending to and being tutored by the natural processes of growth, fruition, fermentation, washing, burning, and soaking. And through attention, learning, and craft we achieve the result of something remarkable and elevated; like wine or chocolate, we arrive at the delicious final product of coffee by a complex cultural route.
Cultivating this kind of awareness of the little marvels of human dominion renews our appreciation of both the natural world and our place in it. We sometimes have a tendency to view nature like it’s a museum: something out there, to gaze at or observe; something we describe using words like majestic or pristine. And while there is a truth to this, nature is also the soil in our backyards—and under our fingernails—teeming with life, from microbes on up. Nature is the garden that teaches us about natural order, the cycle of life, and the harmonious interplay between vegetal flourishing and the flourishing of human life in a beautified, cultured home (and yes, I have in mind principally…sauerkraut). In short, nature is this coming together of the natural and the human, reminding us that we don’t stand beyond the natural in the spiritual—we straddle the two in order to draw the natural into the spiritual through our God-given task of having dominion.
For this reason, the time we invest in culture, the home, the arts and crafts within the home and without—all of this ought not to be thought of as time spent away from the indispensable task of living out and sharing the good news. Rather, it ought to be seen as a critical part of the New Evangelization, as the rightful, and necessary, fruit of faith in the Gospel and the expression of faith in culture; in this case, the humble, but invigorating, culture of the coffee in your cup.
