Catholic Review

Inspiring the Archdiocese of Baltimore

Rita Buettner writes: "When we crack claws and pluck crab meat over brown paper, we do it patiently and with joy for the process and the time together. Perhaps we can bring that same patient joy to our hopes for God’s work in our life. " (Kevin J. Parks/CR Staff)

Crabs and conversation 


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Catholic Review Filed Under: Commentary, The Domestic Church

When I was growing up in Baltimore, we didn’t eat steamed crabs often. But every once in a while, usually when we had out-of-town guests visiting, my father would bring home a brown bag full of hot, steamed Maryland blue crabs. We’d spread newspaper across the dining room table and sit and pick our way through the pile. 

It was always a special treat and a bit of an adventure, as my siblings and I took turns with the mallets and pulled the sweet white meat out of the shells. Then we’d gobble it down with our spicy fingers. 

I don’t remember anyone ever showing me how to pick a crab, though someone must have taught me the basics. When I got married, though, I realized my husband has much more crab-picking strategy and skill. His family used to catch and steam their own crabs, and he has clearly picked more crustaceans than I have. He uses a knife, and he skillfully pulls these giant lumps free of the shell. 

What is important to realize about a crab feast is that it’s not about the food. You’re never going to get your fill on the crabs. It’s about time together and conversation. I didn’t understand that as a child. I was there for the novelty and the flavor. I had little patience for all the boring grownup chit-chat about retirement planning, medical scares or old stories about people I didn’t know. 

As the pile of crabs dwindled, my siblings and I would slip away from the table and pretend to be adults saying, “How’s your 401K?” and laugh. We couldn’t imagine anything more boring. 

Today, however, nothing seems boring to me – especially while picking crabs. I’ve realized that when you sit down at the table with newspaper and mallets, you should approach the experience as if you have all the time in the world. 

These days, when the shells are piled up and the eating is over, I’m still at the table, listening and talking, soaking in the conversation. 

As the summer ends and crabs are often larger and more plentiful, we may have the chance to crack open a few shells or break bread with loved ones over other meals. There’s something so beautiful about taking the time for real conversation and reconnection. 

Just as we focus on renewing and deepening our relationships with people in our lives, we have the chance to do the same with God. Maybe we can make a pilgrimage or carve out a little more time for daily prayer. Maybe we simply sit with God on a quiet evening, tell him what’s in our hearts, listen for him, allow ourselves to rest in his presence, and know that we are loved. 

We might not be able to see how God is at work in our lives, but we can take the time to remember he is with us, watching, loving, guiding and seeking a deeper relationship. 

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God,” said the late Jesuit scientist and theologian Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. 

Maybe this season can offer time for us to open ourselves up to God’s love in a different way, trusting that he is at work in our lives. When we crack claws and pluck crab meat over brown paper, we do it patiently and with joy for the process and the time together. Perhaps we can bring that same patient joy to our hopes for God’s work in our life.  

No mallet needed.  

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