Have we all recovered from our Thanksgiving festivities yet? How many of us were called into duty to say grace before the big gathering on Thursday? As a minister, I don’t stand much of a chance of escaping the designated grace-sayer role.
Prior to everyone gathering around the impeccably set table, taking hands and hoping that my grace wouldn’t go too long, I was pondering this idea of grace and the numerous manifestations of it…
Gracefully refined, effortless movement; a grace period allowed for payback; a dignitary’s title (“Your grace…”). Then there’s my favorite…the grace of God – freely given gifts that manifest divine presence and love.
You may know that the words grace and gratitude come from the same Latin word ‘gratus.’
It makes sense that a Swiss theologian, Karl Barth, would wed the two:
Grace always demands the answer of gratitude. Grace and gratitude belong together like heaven and earth. Grace evokes gratitude like the voice of an echo. Gratitude follows grace like thunder follows lightning.
Grace demands and evokes gratitude. Gratitude follows grace.
Theoretically this interweaving occurred around multitudes of tables a few days ago. ‘Theoretically’ is the key word there. Each of us can likely attest that it’s rarely that simple. These tables have seen the full spectrum of human experience and emotion.
In this way they seem to be old souls.
We heard it in our poem by Joy Harjo… tables that participate in the raising of our young and the ushering in of adulthood; bearing witness to the onset of wars; while fulfilling the pragmatic role of holding servings of sustenance, also quietly holding our sorrows and secrets.
As my table ponderings continued to unfold (there’s a pun there), I applied it to a grouping of three that I often make… the tables we have for God, for others, and for self.
God’s table is that around which we come in sacred space for sacred purpose.
This is usually the least complicated of the three, as those gathered typically face a similar direction because each has chosen freely to be this table.
Our holy table is literally front and center in our spiritual gathering, with the words “Do This in Remembrance of Me,” reminding us of another table that Jesus and his friends used for their last meal together.
Also in our sacred space is the small but important table that holds our Advent wreath, with flickering candlelight to proclaim arrival – the meaning of Advent.
How fitting this is, as we give thanks for our own arrival in this new home.
Yes, our “God” tables aren’t as potentially problematic as the remaining two…tables of Others and of Self.
While there are many types of Other tables, we’ll focus on the family table, since that’s the kind many of us are emerging from, following the holiday.
I’m not sure there has ever been a time when family tables have been more dicey, given the pervasive political and religious divides that now exist.
The New York Times actually published a how-to guide to navigate such hazards.
While there can be joy galore at family tables even with such disparities, there are other divisive details that affect grace and gratitude.
One hears it in the story of a table Neil Diamond tells in his song “Morningside.”MORNINGSIDE by NEIL DIAMOND with Lyrics
We’ve all known instances where disconnection born or apathy or betrayal, or a myriad other obstacles, derail the holy intermingling of grace and gratitude.
There is a myriad of reasons that render gathering around Other tables treacherous.
The last of the three – the Self table – can be the trickiest of all.
It’s the most private, the easiest to let slide, even if there’s discord.
For years I’ve had a vision of the various aspects of myself embodied in identical body packaging (i.e., the body we all see here).
There are all of these Lori’s…funny Lori, content Lori, frustrated Lori, hurt Lori, fun-loving Lori, sad Lori, anxious Lori, etc…
In my imagining, we’re all invited to sit around a big round Self table.
Hurt Lori doesn’t want to come. She wants to be quiet and alone. Frustrated Lori is impatient with this (Can you just come on, already?).
Content Lori gently validates hurt Lori, while fun-loving Lori dances and sings “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night. Anxious Lori doesn’t think there’s time for such silliness.
Looking on, as a parent might, over all these self-aspects, you see the totality of yourself.
The type of parental lens you use determines your experience of the Self table. A critical parent doesn’t like the perceived ‘negative’ selves (shameful, angry, disappointed), while a loving parent recognizes grace in them all, and thus has gratitude for every manifestation of their personhood, even those that have growing edges.
This sounds good on paper but is as elusive as the Self-Actualization tip of Maslow’s pyramid.
Yes, there are differing tables that furnish the various aspects of our lives, each with their own dynamics, impacted largely by what we make of them. And each impacted by the others. For instance, how our spiritual lives and self-image inform our relationships with others.
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer wrote a lovely poem that speaks to the aftermath of the big feast at the Thanksgiving table. Entitled simply “After,” she writes…
After the leftovers have been spooned
into storage containers and the forks
are all snuggled back in their drawers,
when the few who are left are sprawled
on the couch or curled on the floor,
and we’re sleepy-eyed and sated
and telling stories and laughing
at ourselves, this is my favorite part
of the day, when all of the fixing is done
and we settle in with questions we know
we will never answer, and instead
of solutions we are left holding
nothing but ache and love for the world
and for each other, and somehow
instead of despair, this utter lack
of resolution serves up such
gladness—we’re here to meet
what is hard together.
We, as people of faith, as followers of Jesus, will always have unanswerable questions…questions that emerge from each of our tables (What is the meaning of life? Why does Uncle Henry use racist language? When am I going to stop being afraid to say what I really think?).
There will always be heartaches, balanced by the sustenance of love.
I love her encouragement to find gladness in these days when despair could be an easy choice.
Mostly I love her reminder that, despite the hard stuff (within us and outside of us), we are here for each other, around our shared tables.
In this, grace abounds. And gratitude naturally follows…gratitude and hope.
As this Thanksgiving weekend draws to a close, let us deeply breathe in the refreshing breeze of hope that comes with the arrival of Advent.
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