Marinating vs. Stewing

This post is kind of a follow up to Help, I feel bad, in which I talked about the importance of letting yourself feel things instead of trying to avoid emotions. I talked a little bit about this idea in Just let it sit and marinate. That post, however, was more about letting myself feel something good, but the same thing applies to negative feelings and emotions too (or feelings and emotions that are traditionally seen as bad or negative anyway). Whatever it is we’re feeling, we need to let ourselves sit and marinate in it. Sorry for the germaphobes who are disgusted by the imagery of sitting in a vat of marinade with raw meat.

There are two ideas I want to explore. The first is the title of the post. I think it’s possible to sit too long in our emotions and for it to turn into a gross and stagnant stew. Beef and barley, probably. I also don’t think that it’s just the length of time that determines whether it’s a marinade or a stew. I think how we go about exploring what we’re feeling and what we do with it can determine whether it’s a marinade or a stew.

I’m having a difficult time though, pinpointing what the difference is in more concrete, tangible terms. I can sense the difference though. Marinating allows me to feel it but it also ends up moving me to a better place. Stewing is stagnant and holds me back. And it smells like beef and barley. Gross. Another thought I had was that maybe what I would consider marinating would be considered stewing by others and vice versa.

I want to know if anyone else has thoughts on this. What’s the difference between marinating and stewing for you? How would you explain it? Would you use food to explain? Would you put the cooked meat back in the same dish it was marinating in? If so, I don’t want to know what you have to say anymore and please don’t ever invite me over for dinner.

The other topic is what our role is if we are not the one currently marinating in something difficult but if it is someone we care about who is marinating. For this I will quote Henri Nouwen, a Dutch Catholic priest. Read all about him at the Wikipedia link. He’s pretty amazing.

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief or bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

“Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate. Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to the place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. But this is not our spontaneous response to suffering. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it. As busy, active, relevant ministers, we want to earn our bread by making a real contribution. This means first and foremost doing something to show that our presence makes a difference. And so we ignore our greatest gift, which is our ability to enter into solidarity with those who suffer. Those who can sit in silence with their fellowman, not knowing what to say but knowing that they should be there, can bring new life in a dying heart. Those who are not afraid to hold a hand in gratitude, to shed tears in grief and to let a sigh of distress arise straight from the heart can break through paralyzing boundaries and witness the birth of a new fellowship, the fellowship of the broken.”