The Past
My parents were nominal Catholics. Neither one of them really felt compelled to practice their faith, except on Sunday. I am not being critical of my parents. They were good people who worked hard and tried to raise decent children. They felt that if they did their part by taking us to church on Sunday, then a good Catholic school should provide the remainder of our religious education. Something was lost in the translation, however, because I didn’t get the memo. The Catholic school I attended in the eighth grade had a vending machine in a small hallway leading to the playground. For one dime, you could get a small can of fruit juice…tomato, orange, grapefruit, etc. One lovely day, I put my dime in the machine and nothing came out, so I banged on the machine and finally, in disgust, I kicked it. Well, that certainly opened Pandora’s Box. Five or six cans came rolling out. After a moment’s contemplation I began to see the possibilities in this situation. Before recess was over, I had sold five cans at five cents apiece. I had regained my original investment plus an additional fifteen cents. There was definitely a malfunction in the machine as I was able to plunder it for several more hauls before Mother Superior descended upon me like an avenging angel. She scooped up a handful of gravel from the playground and spread it by my desk in the classroom where I spent the equivalent number of days on my knees in the gravel praying instead of playing.
The Present
There was an article on the internet today about a new (a couple of years old evidently, but new to me) Bible…the Queen James Bible. Sounds ridiculous, but it is apparently true. A group of homosexuals has rewritten certain verses from the King James Bible, carefully editing references to homosexuality in order to justify the practice. From what I have read, this editing…and it is editing, not translating…has been done to prevent “homophobic misinterpretation.” I don’t believe the QJB goes as far as stating, “Honor thy father and thy father,” or “Honor thy mother and thy mother.” It must be difficult, however, to explain that discrepancy. Well, if you don’t feel that the Bible is the inspired, inerrant word of God, then I guess, opportunistically, you can change anything you feel may be detrimental. I use the word “opportunistically” intentionally. Various shadings of the word are “unscrupulous,” “unprincipled,” “devious,” and “cunning.” And as I acted opportunistically by selling cans of drinks for which I had not paid, these individuals are opportunistically misusing scripture. “And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet.” (Romans 1:27). Don’t care how much “editing” is done, it seems pretty clear to me.
Recipe
Escalloped Chicken *
1 – 5 lb. chicken
¼ lb. butter
¾ cup of flour
1½ quarts of chicken broth
6 eggs
¼ cup chopped onion
¼ cup chopped celery
2 teas. sage
2 teas. poultry seasoning
Salt and pepper to taste
1 loaf of sandwich bread
Grease a roasting pan and break the bread into small pieces. Cook the chicken in 2 quarts of water. Cool the chicken and strip the meat. Save the water from cooking the chicken to use as the chicken broth (or just use canned chicken broth—fine with me). Mix the celery, onions, chicken and seasonings with the bread crumbs in the roaster.
Melt the butter, add the flour, and thicken with the broth. Cool this mixture and then add the well beaten eggs. Pour this mix over the bread crumb/chicken mixture in the roasting pan and stir it lightly. Bake in a 350 degree oven for one hour or until the custard is set.
Serves 12.
*We never referred to this recipe by the name given above. In our home, it was always called “chicken stretcher.” You can probably guess why. One five pound chicken would feed 12 people. My mom got this recipe from a little old lady named Bessie Emerson who lived on a farm in Nebraska. I don’t know any more than that, except for the fact that this was one of our favorite meals served with cranberry sauce.
My parents were nominal Catholics. Neither one of them really felt compelled to practice their faith, except on Sunday. I am not being critical of my parents. They were good people who worked hard and tried to raise decent children. They felt that if they did their part by taking us to church on Sunday, then a good Catholic school should provide the remainder of our religious education. Something was lost in the translation, however, because I didn’t get the memo. The Catholic school I attended in the eighth grade had a vending machine in a small hallway leading to the playground. For one dime, you could get a small can of fruit juice…tomato, orange, grapefruit, etc. One lovely day, I put my dime in the machine and nothing came out, so I banged on the machine and finally, in disgust, I kicked it. Well, that certainly opened Pandora’s Box. Five or six cans came rolling out. After a moment’s contemplation I began to see the possibilities in this situation. Before recess was over, I had sold five cans at five cents apiece. I had regained my original investment plus an additional fifteen cents. There was definitely a malfunction in the machine as I was able to plunder it for several more hauls before Mother Superior descended upon me like an avenging angel. She scooped up a handful of gravel from the playground and spread it by my desk in the classroom where I spent the equivalent number of days on my knees in the gravel praying instead of playing.
The Present
There was an article on the internet today about a new (a couple of years old evidently, but new to me) Bible…the Queen James Bible. Sounds ridiculous, but it is apparently true. A group of homosexuals has rewritten certain verses from the King James Bible, carefully editing references to homosexuality in order to justify the practice. From what I have read, this editing…and it is editing, not translating…has been done to prevent “homophobic misinterpretation.” I don’t believe the QJB goes as far as stating, “Honor thy father and thy father,” or “Honor thy mother and thy mother.” It must be difficult, however, to explain that discrepancy. Well, if you don’t feel that the Bible is the inspired, inerrant word of God, then I guess, opportunistically, you can change anything you feel may be detrimental. I use the word “opportunistically” intentionally. Various shadings of the word are “unscrupulous,” “unprincipled,” “devious,” and “cunning.” And as I acted opportunistically by selling cans of drinks for which I had not paid, these individuals are opportunistically misusing scripture. “And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet.” (Romans 1:27). Don’t care how much “editing” is done, it seems pretty clear to me.
Recipe
Escalloped Chicken *
1 – 5 lb. chicken
¼ lb. butter
¾ cup of flour
1½ quarts of chicken broth
6 eggs
¼ cup chopped onion
¼ cup chopped celery
2 teas. sage
2 teas. poultry seasoning
Salt and pepper to taste
1 loaf of sandwich bread
Grease a roasting pan and break the bread into small pieces. Cook the chicken in 2 quarts of water. Cool the chicken and strip the meat. Save the water from cooking the chicken to use as the chicken broth (or just use canned chicken broth—fine with me). Mix the celery, onions, chicken and seasonings with the bread crumbs in the roaster.
Melt the butter, add the flour, and thicken with the broth. Cool this mixture and then add the well beaten eggs. Pour this mix over the bread crumb/chicken mixture in the roasting pan and stir it lightly. Bake in a 350 degree oven for one hour or until the custard is set.
Serves 12.
*We never referred to this recipe by the name given above. In our home, it was always called “chicken stretcher.” You can probably guess why. One five pound chicken would feed 12 people. My mom got this recipe from a little old lady named Bessie Emerson who lived on a farm in Nebraska. I don’t know any more than that, except for the fact that this was one of our favorite meals served with cranberry sauce.