We have a tradition around here. We kick off the new year at Kids’ Club (our twice-monthly activity for kids and their families) with s’mores. The gooey, marshmallow-y, chocolatey treat that’s a staple of campfires and autumn gatherings all across the United States is the center of attention. It’s a tradition three years in the running, so you know it’s a real tradition. At first, no one knew how to make s’mores. Most of our participants hadn’t roasted a marshmallow before. But three years in, we have developed some pretty marvelous expertise.
One of the really cool things about cross-cultural ministry is sharing cultures—language, music, clothing, and food, of course. Our friends feed us curries and pavlovas and savory pies and gelatin desserts made from seaweed. We feed them tacos and chili and… s’mores. It’s great fun to share food and in so doing, share bits and pieces of ourselves.
When we gather each year for S’more S’mores, we’re bringing with us all the nostalgia of marshmallows roasted around a campfire, chocolatey Hershey’s bars, crisp autumn evenings, and warm apple cider, and we’re allowing it to be shaped and given significance among a different body of people. It becomes for us a symbol of shared experience, of an intentional willingness to do life together, despite our vast differences.
While any grocery or convenience store in the US can fulfill your s’more ingredient needs, our ingredients are imported to New Zealand. Kiwi marshmallows just don’t get that essential toasted on the outside, gooey in the middle combination when you roast them. Meanwhile, Hershey’s bars and Graham crackers flat out aren’t a thing here. We’ve done the importing ourselves in the past, but we relied on an American imports store in Auckland this year. Luckily, they had *just* enough chocolate.
This year, it was unseasonably warm on the afternoon of our marshmallow roasting a few weeks ago. We may have stood as far away from the hot fire as we could, but that didn’t deter us. We gathered, we roasted, we ate, we licked our lips and our fingertips, and we looked forward to the great year ahead. In the process, we were formed a little bit more into a community, a little bit more into the body of Christ that chooses to be united by Him and allows our food to help us along the journey. It’s marshmallows and ministry. Food and faith. Cuisine and community. The bread and the cup.
In the same way that we offer hospitality when we share our food with others, we reciprocate that hospitality when we eat the varied foods of those we do life with. We create space in our lives and in our palates for others. In some small way, gathering around the fire pit (or brazier, as kiwis call it) is like the disciples gathering around a fire to cook their morning catch for breakfast. Really, there’s only one thing that brings this odd bunch together—Jesus. In him, we find that we have a place of community and belonging. It may even involve marshmallows.