Table Grace

FROM THE RECTOR

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. When I was a child, we almost always gathered with extended family and friends around a large table. The menu was a mixture of traditional family recipes and newfound experimental dishes, with each contributing household brining some of their best. There was laughter among the grownups as childhood stories were retold and astonishment among their children who had a hard time believing that their parents ever got into so much mischief. At no other time during the year did we pay so much attention to what we would eat and with whom we would share the meal.

This year, our family of six will gather around our table, and, although the number of people will be relatively small, the joy and intention we will bring to the meal will be unmatched. For the last few weeks, we have been discussing what dishes we will prepare and serve. Turkey, dressing, and cranberry relish are nonnegotiable, but the other sides and desserts that we will enjoy are always up for debate. I enjoy spending Thanksgiving with our extended family, but I am also aware that it will not be very many years from now that getting the six of us together for a holiday meal will take considerable effort.

When you say the grace over your meal this Thursday, what thanksgivings will you hold in your heart? What gifts will you count among your chief blessings? Whose presence will you celebrate, and whose absence will you feel most profoundly? Will you remember with gratitude the Thanksgivings from years past, or will you offer a prayer of thanks that you have moved on to a new chapter in your life?

For millennia our spiritual ancestors have used the image of table fellowship as a way to describe the consummation of God’s promises. Whether it is the soul-satisfying feast of Psalm 63 or the mountain-top table spread with rich foods in Isaiah 25 or the wedding banquet from so many of Jesus’ parables, we are invited to envision our place in the presence of God as a great meal where we gather with God and each other. We anticipate that fulfillment every time we come to the Lord’s table in Holy Communion, and we get a glimpse of it at Thanksgiving, when our ordinary table becomes a window into the sort of holy gathering that awaits us.

For some of us, however, the Thanksgiving table is anything but a holy experience. Some encounter profound loneliness and grief during the holidays. Others are compelled to share a meal with individuals with whom they neither have nor want anything else in common. Often the divisions that are manifest in our national political life come to bear during the Thanksgiving meal, and many of us can recall at least one gathering that ended with either awkward silence or unhindered animosity.

In a way, I think that is an important and inescapable consequence of the scriptural image of the banquet table. God’s people were no more likely to gather peacefully with extended friends and family in the ancient world than we are today. Our spiritual ancestors felt the same grief over missing loved ones as we do. Human nature does not change. We may argue about different things and use new technologies to broadcast our positions on them, but egos are as fragile today as they have always been. Lifespans may be a lot longer now, but the heartache we carry over lost loved ones has not diminished. The challenge—and hope—for us is recognizing that God’s promise to make all things new does not avoid the harsh reality of the holiday table; it transforms it.

Imagine gathering with your extended family and never hearing a harsh word. Imagine sitting at the table and looking around and realizing that not a single person is missing. Imagine coming to the meal without any reservations about who you will share that meal with. Now imagine sharing that experience with all of God’s people—even the ones you have the hardest time being with—and only experiencing love and joy and peace. That is the grace of sitting at God’s table in the life that awaits us, and it is the hope that carries us through the holidays and beyond.

Yours Faithfully,

Evan D. Garner