The only one of these distinguished visitors who spoke English asked me to call him Brian, which, he said, sounded a bit like his actual name but was easier for Americans to pronounce. And now Brian and the other two Chinese folks found themselves sitting at a long table in the basement of the local Lutheran church staring at heaping plates of lutefisk, a traditional Norwegian Christmas dinner. Lutefisk, a fishlike substance, seems at first glance a revolting jellied putrescence. Consumption is a matter of some courage. I find it necessary to sit before the dish and center myself, breathing deeply and consciously, staring at the plate as I would at a meditation mandala.
Steam rises like an offering, like the soul's longing for oneness.
Lutefisk, I propose to myself, is consciousness made tangible, in the form of fish, and that when I eat it, I partake of the Universal. Traditionally, in the ranching and farming communities of the West and Midwest, lutefisk dinners are served in Lutheran churches during the winter, just before Christmas. These are fund-raising events, and it is said that some eat lutefisk to show their devotion to Lutheran doctrine, rather in the manner of medieval saints flogging themselves bloody with whips. Lutefisk, a staple on long voyages, fueled the Viking rampages through Europe. This is because any person forced to eat lutefisk two nights in a row is certain to become a savage warrior.