Faspa is one of the things I identify as a core tenet of the Mennonite way. It’s a light meal generally made up of zwieback, jelly, cheese and coffee, maybe cookies or cake. It’s usually served late on Sunday afternoon.

If you’re lucky, the zwieback are fresh out of the oven and the pat of butter (or oleo, as the church ladies would tell you) you swipe on them melts into the fluffy center. But they were likely baked on Saturday so that Sunday could be devoted to rest.

As a fan of charcuterie boards, I like to think of faspa as the Mennonite equivalent (the Russian Mennonite tradition, specifically), minus the extravagant presentation. It’s a meal meant for gathering: You set the food on the table, and all are welcome to sit and chat for hours as they chip away at the spread.

Faspa forces you to slow down, unlike today’s hustle culture, and enjoy life with those seated at your table. It’s about the process, rather than the product, of being together.

I love faspa’s simplicity. You can find most of the ingredients, such as milk and flour, on the farm. It’s a use-what-you-have type of meal, nothing fancy. But it doesn’t need to be fancy to taste delicious.

Faspa is the food equivalent of some of the Mennonite characteristics I was taught growing up: humility and community.

Now I must divulge that I am an ­actor and theater professor. I earned my bachelor’s degree in theater from Tabor College, during the brief time they offered such a degree, and a ­Master of Fine Arts in acting from East 15, the acting school of the University of ­Essex. I worked as an actor in Denver for a couple of years and now teach acting and directing courses at Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa.

What, you might ask, does my life as a theater artist have to do with my love for faspa? Everything.

Due to Hollywood stereotypes, the acting profession might seem counter to Mennonite ideals. Where Mennonites strive to live simply and humbly, actors live in the limelight. They perform in front of crowds and gladly receive applause for their work. They are concerned with their appearance. They sometimes present characters and tell stories that are scandalous and sinful. In short, acting is not very Mennonite.

This is one story you could tell about acting. Yet, a completely different story has tugged at my faspa-loving heart: an actor is a small cog in a machine, and that requires living with humility and in community.

One of acting’s core tenets is generosity. Generosity requires others (community) and doesn’t expect recognition (humility).

A good actor is a generous scene partner. That means I must listen intently rather than focus on my lines. It means doing my job well so that my scene partner and the crew can fully do theirs.

I must never forget that without the people backstage, unseen, I would go unseen.

To portray a character truthfully, I don’t get to hide or try and make myself look good: I must be fully human and allow all who are watching to bear witness to this. I must give up any notion that the work is about me.

I think I love theater because I love faspa. Here’s what I mean:

Faspa and theater show us how to live in community.

Faspa and theater ask us to enjoy a process rather than focus on a product.

Faspa and theater are made through humility and generosity.

In a world built on busyness and self-interest, theater and faspa might answer the question of how to slow down and live a life closer to the one God has in mind for us.

Molly Wiebe Faber is an assistant professor of theater at Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa. She is a graduate of Tabor College and East 15 Acting School. Previously, she worked as an actor and acting instructor in Denver, Colo. She and her husband, Harrison, have a daughter, Junia.

Faspa

A recipe for faspa:

Make your zwieback.
(See recipe below.)
Set out butter, jams, cold cuts, cheeses.
Make a pot of coffee.
Invite people over.
Enjoy your food and fellowship.

Zwieback

This is my mom’s recipe. She uses it to teach a class called Zwieback 101 at Hillsboro Mennonite Brethren Church in Kansas. Her hope is to pass on the tradition of zwieback making, as well as help the church meet its zwieback quota for the Kansas Mennonite Relief Sale.

3 cups warm milk
1 cup butter
6 teaspoons salt
1/4 cup sugar
6 teaspoons yeast
1/4 cup warm water
9+ cups flour

Combine 1 tablespoon (from your 1/4 cup) of sugar and the yeast in warm water, and set aside.

Heat milk and butter together on low until the butter is melted into the milk. Pour into a large mixing bowl with the rest of the sugar, salt and 3 cups of flour. Stir until smooth and then add the yeast mixture, which should have grown. Begin mixing in the additional 6 cups of flour, kneading until ready. (Sometimes additional flour is needed; you’ll know when the dough is no longer shiny and sticking to your hands.) Let the dough rest in a warm spot to double in size. Punch down dough, coat hands in butter so dough doesn’t stick. Using thumb and index finger, pinch off a ball about 2 inches in diameter, along with another smaller ball. Use a finger to press the smaller one onto the larger. Let rise on the pan and then bake at 350 degrees for 18 to 20 minutes.