Florence, Italy: Needing the Kneading

Kneading is an art. It creates; it forms; it sustains. Kneading envelopes, turns, pushes, and envelopes again.

The bakery at the end of my street is one of Florence’s best. It’s the little details that help in distinguishing this ‘forno’-expert from all of the others. The baker speaks at least three languages and smiles and waves at me every time I walk by the windows. His shop is set up with two doors that are perfect for creating a traffic flow during the busy hours. For 1.5 euros I can get a huge slice of pizza that quenches my hunger for a long time. For under three euros I can get a day’s supply of biscotti cookies and cheddar biscuits. All of his work is done because of kneading. Yes, he has machines that help him, but he still does some.

Mike, my cooking guru, has some of the highest standards for kneading. When we made homemade pasta noodles or focaccia bread with Duccio (Mike’s instructor), we were pressed for time and Duccio said “Good enough.” Mike came from across the room saying, “No way, come on Duccio.” Then he turned to us and chided, “you realize he’s letting you off easy, right?” It’s funny.

Texture is essential. Material is essential. With everything in baking, however, the form at the end of the kneading is never the final result. Kneading is only one of the preparation steps. After adding heat, allowing time, or simply using for the intended purpose, the form that results is never identical to the beginning. Bread rises, noodles are cut and formed, pie crusts are fit into a mold.

One of the best metaphors for God’s shaping our lives is that of the potter and the clay. Taken from all over the bible (I saw it was in Jeremiah this morning), the process is the molding of our lives into something better than their current form. The ironic requirement for the metaphor is that bread or clay has to have air kneaded out of it. The hot air has to be forced out so that it’s easier to mold and bring to a better texture. The strange aspect with kneading is that after the air-removing process, and after the molding into the perfect form, the form is still shapable. It can still change until something else happens: it’s form hardens by either time or temperature.

My favorite musical genre is Broadway. It probably started from the musical nature of Disney in my younger years (you know: The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Lion King). The lyrics give the meaning of the songs but the melodies cement the impact. For some reason, probably the copyrights most of all, I can’t put one of my new favorite songs on my website.

In the weeks before leaving for Florence, my camp co-counselor from this summer, urged me to get the soundtrack for the musical “Wicked.” Now, to be fair, one of my best friends at TCU had told me that in April, but it didn’t sink in until the end of the summer. “Wicked” is the musical based on a book of the same name that takes a different look at “The Wizard of Oz.” In what one reviewer called “the year’s best guilty-pleasure,” the stories of the three witches in Oz intertwine and mold together.

My favorite character, Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West), goes through the whole story wanting to be changed. She wants to be ‘de-greenified’ and she wants to be equipped and empowered (by the faux-powerful Wizard) to help everyone else. Elphaba, through the entire story, is actually saying that she needs to be kneaded. Her point is that she thinks she can be better and she wants someone to change her.

Before I give you the words to her duet with Glinda (Glinda the “Good” — the witch who rides around in a bubble), I want to point out that Elphaba was wanting a mentor. It turns out that she became disillusioned with her mentor’s lack of abilities (and honesty) and wanted something better. In the end, as in all of our lives, the change comes from the place least expected; those surrounding us are the ones who help mold us and shape us. What allows Elphaba to be changed? Her knowing that she needed to be kneaded.

For Good
Music and Lyrics by Stephen Schwartz

ELPHABA
I’m limited:
Just look at me – I’m limited
And just look at you –
You can do all I couldn’t do, Glinda
So now it’s up to you
(spoken) For both of us (sung) Now it’s up to you:

GLINDA
I’ve heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today
Because I knew you:
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

ELPHABA
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You’ll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend:
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
But because I knew you:

GLINDA
Because I knew you:

BOTH
I have been changed for good

ELPHABA
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I’ve done you blame me for

GLINDA
But then, I guess we know
There’s blame to share

BOTH
And none of it seems to matter anymore

Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better?

GLINDA
And because I knew you:
ELPHABA
Because I knew you:

BOTH
Because I knew you:
I have been changed for good.

What will it take for God to change me? Admitting that I need to be kneaded. It also involves someone like Mike saying “that’s not good enough” and Melanie and Jessica for saying “try this” and for every other person for molding me in different ways.