Search Quotes

“We’re so old now,” I said, “that we can actually see the patterns. It’s a little terrifying.” “And isn’t it all so interesting?” With a sharpness that was almost a pain, I recalled how, in phone call after late-night phone call so many years ago, as Helen’s first ministry failed and I struggled to write a second book, we’d reminded each other that life, in fact, was interesting, endlessly so; an adventure to be observed and intricately discussed. In this way, we encouraged each other—gave each other the courage—to keep going.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“You know, Dana, in my experience, the people who join search committees are often seeking a change for themselves—the internal self is conducting its own search alongside the church’s.” This set off an internal clamor of thoughts. Of course I was on a parallel search. But what for? “I suppose,” I said weakly. “I’m definitely learning things about myself.” “What have you learned, may I ask?” “How much I care,” I said. “About the church. And doing the right thing. And also that what I think and how much I care might not matter much to anyone else.” She smiled. “You sound like me,” she said,”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“What does it mean to be human? What are we doing here on this planet? What should we do with all the beauty and the horror? I spent a year as a hospice chaplain and what did I learn? That everyone wants to live. Even if just to gaze out a window at the sky.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“I just had dinner with two polyamorists—they live with a third. You have to be young and barely formed and not so set in your ways to do that. I mean, like, who of all the people we know would be remotely imaginable as our third?”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“I just and there were two polyamorists—they live with a third. You have to be young and barely formed and not so set in your ways to do that. I mean, like, who of all the people we know would be remotely imaginable as our third?”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“Jack's sister was bringing their family’s Thanksgiving essential: jellied cranberry sauce, glubbed from the can, ridges intact.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“The problem with a church committee, I thought, is that nobody's very wicked.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“How do we live in—and change—a reality that includes climate change, mass shootings, and racism? How do we address income inequality, sexual predation, mass incarceration? By not turning away. By engaging. By cultivating kindness and compassion, by seeking justice, by loving the earth, and by tending the great interconnected web of which we are all a part. In”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“I could go into some detail about the theological and class differences between the two groups but suffice it to say that Ralph Waldo Emerson was a Unitarian and P. T. Barnum a Universalist.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“I tore open a bag of truffle chips---really truffle-flavored potato chips---that cost $3.95: a novelty I'd never buy on my own. I shook them onto a small plate and the scent of truffles, at once earthy and faintly metallic, filled the air. That scent always triggers a free-floating longing in me, the ache of a bittersweet memory, but with no specific memory attached. (Did such poignancy make the chips worth twice as much as the Lay's?)”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“Walking into the Milkfarm cheese store and café at lunchtime, I was greeted by the pungent funk of melting aged Gruyère. Helen Harland was in town for a seminar and I was meeting her for lunch. I found her studying the sandwich case. "Gosh," she said. "I don't know what half these things are. Speck? Guanciale? Taleggio? Just pick one for me, please. Nothing too strong or spicy."
I ordered her a grilled cheese made with Irish cheddar and French ham on pain au levain, and for myself, speck and young pecorino on a baguette.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“I decided to make the seafood chowder I first ate twenty years ago in the English Market in Cork, Ireland---or at least my own version of that smoky, tomato-based soup with cod, scallops, clams, and shrimp; sometimes (in Ireland), it had periwinkles (sea snails) and enough smoked haddock to give it a wonderful campfire tang. Of course, I had to skip the periwinkles and for the smokiness I made do with frozen finnan haddie. I'd worked on the recipe over the years, cranking the flavors so that when I finally went back to the English Market a couple of years ago, their chowder was so bland and watery that Jack didn't believe it was the same soup I made at home. It was possible that the Irish cook was having a bad day, or someone was trying to stretch the last bit of a used-up batch, or they'd made the recipe from memory for so long, it had ceased being itself---a chef at a good restaurant here in Los Angeles once told me that vigilance is the key to consistency, and that if she or a trusted supervisor didn't keep an eye on the plates as they came out of the kitchen, a dish could become unrecognizable within hours.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“What about 101 Noodle Express?" This was a favorite dumpling place in Arcadia. Their dumplings were rustic and burly---leek and pork, pumpkin and pork, shrimp and bok choy---and their signature dish, a beef roll, was another life-shifting taste experience: long-stewed beef rolled in a crisp and chewy savory pancake with sweet hoisin sauce and a green chili relish.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“We were as hungry as hunters after a day of stalking prey. The word for Belinda's chicken, we agreed, was also epic, the meat deeply flavored, the rice flecked with tiny sour-sweet jewel-red barberries, and mined with woody spices you had to pluck out---cinnamon sticks, cloves, and black cardamom pods as big and wrinkled as prunes.
"This could be the best thing I have ever eaten," said Jennie.
"It's right up there," I said.
"The food writer agrees!" Jennie said. "Did you hear that, Belinda?"
"I just followed the recipe," said Belinda. "Anybody could make it."
Not true. Not everybody used quality organic chicken, high-grade extra-long basmati rice, hard-to-find black cardamom pods. The parsley and cilantro from Belinda's own garden were more flavorful than supermarket varieties. And Belinda had the great cook's touch; her onions were expertly caramelized, her chicken well browned, her rice cooked to the right tooth... No, not everyone could make this.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“My corned beef, a deep meaty magenta, was shaggy tender and served in a wide bowl with boiled cabbage, potatoes, carrots, and turnips.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“In Belinda's dark Craftsman, we drank Riley's cocktails, then ate Belinda's impeccable entrées: roast vegetable lasagna, chicken piccata, shrimp and grits, roast pork with prunes.
"This pork is amazing," said Jennie, present for the first time in weeks. "But I move that from now on, we don't have red meat or pork---not because I'm vegetarian but because those farming practices are so bad for the environment."
In fact, I didn't cook pork or red meat at home (except for brisket at Passover) for precisely Jennie's reason. As a restaurant critic, I ate---or at least tasted---everything. And as a guest, I'd taken the no-asshole pledge and ate whatever my hosts put on the table, though I drew the line at eel. (Some things are too ugly to eat.)
Murmured protests came from the meat-and-potato contingent (Charlotte, Belinda, Sam, and Adrian), but even they agreed that we could stick with chicken and fish.
"And only fish on the safe lists---low-mercury, sustainably farmed," said Jennie.
Adrian said, "Best quit while you're ahead, Jen.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“The teenager brought us a small white plate with a square slab of white cheese doused in a clear liquor. He used a lighter and after several tries flames leapt up, surely singeing the hair on his fingers, then died down to a cool, stovetop blue before going out, leaving the cheese prettily browned and crisp. I wrote, Saganaki---scary but fun.
"Oh!" I said. "I forgot about the booze, Charlotte. That was insensitive of me."
"It's all burned off," she said. "Besides, if I'm going to blow thirty-two years of sobriety and get drunk, it won't be on flaming Greek cheese!"
We scooped it onto warm, puffy pita bread. "If I closed my eyes, I could be in Patmos right now," said Belinda.
A bowl of cunning little meatballs appeared with its snow-white yogurt and fish-egg dip. Another plate held three plump, golden triangular spinach pies.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“The eggrolls arrived first. Blistered and dangerously hot from the deep fryer, filled with wood ear mushrooms, glass noodles, and ground pork, they came with a heap of lettuce leaves, bean sprouts, sliced cucumber, and herbs. To eat one, you flatten a lettuce leaf; set an eggroll on it; scatter mint, basil, cilantro, and shiso leaves over it; add sprouts, cucumber, and pickled carrot; then roll it up. A messy business! We each wrapped a roll as snugly as we could—not very—and dunked them in a clear, cold, salty-sweet sauce. The first bite is a jolt of simultaneity: hot and cold, meat and herbs, sweet and salty, deep-fried crunch and fresh lettuce crunch…”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“I think God listens when I pray,” Curtis said. “I think He listens in the way you said is the best kind of listening. He takes it in deep.” “And how does that make you feel?” “Like He hears what I’m saying and understands.” “That can be very powerful,” Elsa said. “And I imagine very helpful.” “Very helpful,” said Curtis.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“The best listening, Elsa said, was silence dilated by love and attention.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“Listening, true deep listening—when someone takes your words in deep—that kind of listening is rare and healing, and when you go to buy some, it’s expensive. The going rate for therapy is $190 an hour. And up. But some listening is free or has a put-a-dollar-in-the-basket fee. So far, the best treatment for alcoholism we know of is a room full of drunks listening to one another, listening without offering advice or argument—cross talk is forbidden—so that whoever speaks is truly heard. Laughter fills these meetings. The great, knowing, soul-gusting laughter of shared experience . . .”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“The world calls on us to listen. Listen, says my daughter, who is writing a paper on Emily Dickinson. Listen, says my son, tucking an earbud in my ear so I can hear the angry rap song that he loves. Listen, says a friend, I have to tell somebody what just happened. . . .”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“One: Let’s cultivate a kinder, more grateful and respectful attitude toward the ministers who have put themselves on the line for our judgment. Two: Let’s remember to pause to defuse anger and resentment before our discussions overheat. Three: Some of us are disappointed; those who are jubilant, please be tender with them. Four: Remember, all of you, that this is a spiritual journey—and it’s getting rocky—so let’s move ahead with more reverence, love, and faith.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“You know,” I burst out, “I would’ve made a lousy minister. And don’t ever let me be church president, either. I’m not sporting enough. It’s not a game to me. I lack the nerve for it.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“When I started at my first church,” Tom went on, “I was on fire with everything I wanted to do. I moved in, opened my office door, and one by one each staff person and maybe half the members came in and complained about everyone else. I called my mentor and said, ‘I can’t take it! I have ideas! I want to get to work, not be a wailing wall!’ And he said, ‘This is your work. Listening to people. Managing people.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“Lifelong settlements are a thing of the past. These days, ministry’s more a march toward mutual disappointment. You start off at a church with a few honeymoon years when everyone loves you. If you’re at all decent and the congregation is sane, you then have a few stable years to get some good work done. At some point, though, the malcontents start their picking and poking and stirring up discontent. The trick is to get out before the discontent morphs into full-blown antipathy. I probably should’ve left two years ago. As it is, a whole contingent’s only too glad to see me go.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“Who are we to demean a faith that sustained millions through centuries of institutionalized injustice? Who are we to deny a God that comforted the poor, the sick, the imprisoned, the orphans and widows who had nothing but faith to see them through? We UUs say, ‘We welcome you, whoever you are, whatever you believe,’ but we have work to do to live up to that. We do that work here at First UU when we worship together; when we have a community pizza night or a bread-baking class; when we run together, sing one another’s songs; when we hold hands and say Dear God, Please Lord, God bless us, and amen.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“How did you bring so many Black people to your church?” “To begin with, I invite and welcome those who believe in a loving, personal God. But first I had to address the rampant God-hating in our denomination. Nearly eighty percent of all atheists are white, and nearly eighty percent of UUs are white. Atheism and even UUism, you might say, are white privileges. Comfort, education, and high self-regard have led some to believe that they make their own destinies, that they have no need of an interceding God. These humanists can be condescending to and intolerant of those who do turn to and love a personal God. It’s time we recognize and call out the racism inherent in that intolerance.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“When the search committee named the Reverend Dr. Tom Fox as their candidate, and when the congregation heard him preach and unanimously voted him in—well, almost unanimously, as the usual half-dozen soreheads cast dissenting votes—spirits soared and there was much rejoicing, no small part of which was the enormous pleasure and relief of seeing the interim depart.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“The interim had an interesting if musty mind; he identified as a Christian Unitarian, a dwindling, more conservative branch of the denomination rare in California. I enjoyed him, but nobody else at the AUUCC liked him very much. Or at all. To hear him tell it, the churches that he’d previously served were all in dire shape when he arrived. He’d mopped up after “negotiated settlements” and all manner of ecclesiastical and clerical dysfunction. While I thought that Sparlo had made us into a strong, sane, healthy church with a board that functioned like an intelligent, reasonable brain and an endowment the envy of many, the interim, who was used to coming in and fixing things, found deep problems where we saw none. He found it ethically objectionable, for example, that a powerful lay leader was the church’s salaried secretary. “That Belinda Bauer knows too much,” he once told me over pho. “She thinks she runs the church.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search