He told them another parable.  “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”  [Matthew 13:33]

It doesn’t take much to fill a heavy world with the lightness of God. (Cowley, Joyce, Come and See, “The Leaven in the Day,” 81)

There was some poetic justice about our Wednesday morning after the great Debate Debacle, 9/29/2020.  We went shopping for a toilet.  It was fun, because technology has changed toilets like most basic appliances of our lives. The tanks are varying sizes, the seats vary in height, and there are surprising accommodations: heated seats, heated bases, seats that raise when you approach the throne, lights to illumine your nocturnal trips and music for relaxation. Not to mention bidets, which I would rather not mention.

What an unexpected lift to our day! Even though we settled for a stripped-down model, it was delightful to see all the possibilities for our most basic activity. “It doesn’t take much to fill a heavy world with the lightness of God,” as the epigram above asserts. Toilets! Who knew?

I had finally accepted that the last four years were intended to teach me about my political id that had just been waiting for light or disturbance to expose it.  Assuming some responsibility for the current political debacle is one way to transform the helpless rage of a victim. I belong to a tribe with the same vindictive goals as other tribes. I was not merely looking forward to a change in administration this fall, I was looking forward to a relentless thrashing of the ruling party at every level.  Power crushes power–that was the outcome I demanded.

As I watched the debate Tuesday night, I could feel that id raising its head again and looking for something to strike. I was even mad that my candidate was not outclassing the bully, so all other bullies would be thrashed and shaken. I wanted my candidate to look strong and take control back from the other tribe. I was sucked into the winner/loser dichotomy that has dominated our discourse in recent years.

So toilet-shopping the following  day helped me step out of the fray for an hour or so and understand the value of a good flush.  The metaphor works on so many levels. It suggests retreating, cleansing, indulging in the absurd.  We left the toilet showroom with a desire to celebrate, so we located the nearest Starbucks and had a morning coffee and egg frittata on their patio. The sky was clear, a fitful breeze swept the patio, our troubles flushed away.

But I can’t end the story in the crapper. I have to carry on with my life outside the bathroom, and for that I turn t0 yeast. The yeast is the joy and freedom we bring back to the world we have to live in. It is the “lightness of God” that separates us from the heaviness of the world. Released to be yeast.

We can participate in the world without sinking into its despair, if we accept responsibility and the release of God.  We listen, we learn, and we refresh.  We become yeast, a tiny bacterium that nourishes the entire loaf.

My prayer: to be yeast– instead of mold.