My homework was finished, and I was now enjoying a television show when my attention was drawn to a wonderful aroma coming from the adjacent room. It was almost dinner, and I could hardly wait to see what delightful dish my mother was preparing.
A couple of weeks ago, I had the blessing of gathering with a large number of family members. We were all gathered in the ‘great room’ – a kitchen, dining room, and family room all combined into one huge space. Around the large island stood multiple generations of family members, all creating some culinary masterpiece.
Some were preparing old family recipes. Others had taken those recipes and added their own twist. (Corn in that – really?) And others were creating something entirely their own.
The phrase ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ evolved from the 16th-century English proverb ‘too many cooks spoil the broth’. It first appeared in print around 1575, in works by writers such as John Hooker and George Gascoigne. The proverb captures the practical mess that can occur when multiple people try to control the same pot.
And all of us have found ourselves in situations where too many individuals are trying to independently solve the same problem.
But watching that family gathering in the great room reminded me that there is another way to think about cooks – and kitchens.
Everyone had something to contribute.
Unlike my mother (with undying appreciation), and most women of her generation, who were often ‘walled off’ in the kitchen, working alone to prepare the meal, this family gathered everyone who wanted to participate. There was no single person responsible for making everything happen. Instead, each person brought something: a recipe, an idea, a skill, an ingredient, or simply a willingness to help.
A solo cook, siloed away in the kitchen, may produce a wonderful meal, but there is something lost when no one else is invited to share their gifts.
On the other hand, too many cooks trying to do the same thing can quickly degenerate into confusion, competition, and debate. When everyone wants to stir the same pot, it doesn’t take long before somebody asks, “Who is actually in charge of this?”
But when we invite people to bring what they feel called to contribute, something different happens. The meal becomes bigger than any one person’s recipe.
Perhaps that is one of the great gifts of community. We don’t all have to cook the same dish. We don’t all have to use the same ingredients. We don’t even have to agree on whether corn belongs in the recipe! We simply need to bring what we have been given and make room for others to do the same.
Paul reminds the faith community in Corinth that “there are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:4). The goal isn’t that everyone do the same thing. The goal is that the gifts of many people become part of something none of us could create alone.
That family gathering around the kitchen island was more than meal preparation. It was a picture of community. It was a reminder that the richest tables are rarely the product of one person’s work. They are a variable feast – a feast made richer by the different gifts, experiences, traditions, ideas, and contributions that each person brings to the table.
Perhaps the challenge isn’t to figure out how to keep too many cooks out of the kitchen. Perhaps the challenge is to create kitchens where everyone has a place, everyone has something to contribute, and no one has to control the whole meal.
Maybe the answer isn’t fewer cooks. Maybe the answer is learning how to cook together.
BP