The season is upon us! From next Thursday, November 24, 2023, until February 11, 2024, we will find all kinds of ways to feast. We start off with Thanksgiving and all the things that follow on the weekend. We quickly move into Christmas, with parties, family gatherings, office celebrations, church meals, and just plain pigging out on peppermint and chocolate. Then New Year’s, with more feasting on whatever your local custom is. (Ours is black-eyed peas, greens (collard or turnip), sweet potato in any form, and ham!) We then put on loose-fitting clothes and make our way to Super Bowl Sunday, where wings, barbecue, chips, dips, and whatever one-handed food we can make ends up being eaten in front of the tv. It’s a good thing Ash Wednesday starts three days later. For those who celebrate Lent, we can decide to fast, or at least to cut back.
Wait a minute! That’s Valentines’ Day. And I must celebrate with a special meal with my honey. Reckon I can get a special one-day deferment from the preacher? Oh yeah….I am the preacher. No problem.
Whenever this time of the year rolls around, I think of the tables I’ve sat at for all the meals. Growing up, most of these meals would be at my mother’s family homes (her two sisters, Louise and Pauline). Invariably, the adults would sit at “the big table,” while kids would sit at card tables. We had to sit at them until a space opened at the big table due to someone going to heaven. It was okay. It was what we were used to. No one had a home with a dining room big enough to seat upwards of 14 people. I was about 16 when I finally got to sit at the big table.
I’ve sat around all kinds of tables in my life. Dining room tables, kitchen tables, lunch room tables, conference tables, lab tables, picnic tables, and even tiny TV tables (the worst of the lot). We’ve often described the Kingdom of God as a giant banquet table where there was room for all. Though I have rarely used an actual table for communion, we have often called the kneeling rail and altar the communion table, and I have always invited everyone who would come to the table to come. (If they could not come for some reason, I would take the bread and wine to the people at their seats. But it always seems to feel better to eat that meal next to other people kneeling with you.)
Lunchrooms in middle and high schools are a great place for sociologists to study human grouping behavior. One of the most unsure times of any kid’s life is the day they first walk into the lunchroom and wonder where they will sit, who they will sit with, and if they’ll be accepted.
Several years ago, I experienced one of the maddest times I have had in my ministry. The youth group of the church I was serving was invited to meet with a group of a different denomination. I thought it would be a great thing for both churches. When they returned, I found that they had a good time, singing, playing, sharing. Until the closing worship. The host church had communion, and the youth and counselors from my church were told they could receive a blessing, but not communion. So, while the other kids got bread and wine, my kids got to look on. It’s like going to someone’s home for a dinner party, and when time for the meal comes, you are told you can be a part of the prayer but not the meal. I went ballistic. I probably said some things that were not very kind. But these were my kids. Actually, these were God’s kids. Brothers and sisters of Jesus.
In the churches I pastored, I worked hard to overcome this. We emphasize that there’s room at the table for everyone. One of my favorite songs is by Carrie Newcomer, where she sings about it. And people who have been excluded from decision-making, who have been denied power and authority, often say they want a seat at the table. Women and all types of minorities will testify to this.
One of the most interesting tables I have seen was at Cayce United Methodist Church. It was donated to the church by a business in the area. It was huge and trapezoidal. It would probably seat 15 people. One end was very narrow, and the two long sides spread out as they went to the far end. It took me several years to figure out why the table was that way. Finally, it dawned on me. Wherever you sat, you could see everyone else without having to lean forward and block someone else’s view or voice. Clever table.
Still, there was a head to the table. The narrow end was considered the head.
The story is told of one of our former bishops who was visiting a church for one of their grand occasions. They had a luncheon following the service. The bishop served his plate and was about to sit at one of the tables when one of the church leaders said “Bishop, come up here and sit at the head of the table.” To which the bishop replied, “Wherever I sit is the head of the table.”
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Even if there were room at the table, there’s always a head of the table. I wonder if the disciples argued about who got to sit by Jesus at their tables. Even if you can see everyone, there’s still some kind of pecking order. Jesus mentions it in one of his parables.
I’ve been reading Sarah Bessey’s book, Jesus Feminist. (Why hasn’t someone told me about her? Her writing is incredible! I’m going to have to buy another highlighter and a new tin of book darts just for this book!) She starts off by saying that maybe the table is not a good metaphor for our life together in Christ. Rather than a table, how about a fire pit with plenty of chairs that can be moved and arranged and changed as needed. Sitting out under the dome of the night sky, drinking good wine or strong tea (she’s Canadian, so tea is very important), and sharing life together. Sounds pretty good to me.
Years ago, I watched the movie Green Pastures. It’s a 1936 movie with an all-African American cast. It tells the stories of the Bible from the viewpoint of rural Black people. Despite some of the stereotypical things in the movie, it has some very good and very moving scenes. One of the opening scenes shows a bunch of people standing around a park filled with live oak trees, what you might find on John’s Island. The camera goes around and you begin to notice that some of the characters have wings. They are angels. All of the people, it turns out are in Heaven. After a few minutes, a distinguished-looking man in a coat with tails, tie, and hat walks out among the crowd. All the people and angels turn to look at him. He is the Lord. He looks at everyone and says, “Let the fish fry begin!”
That’s what I think the Kingdom of God is like. There may be a table laden with all the best food. It may be like a fish fry or a barbecue. It’s got plenty for everyone. You pick up a plate, load it up, start eating and talking with whoever is near you. Then you find a new group to eat with. Then another.
The table, as good as it may be, still speaks of law, hierarchy, status, and prominence. Is it any wonder that C.S. Lewis, in his wonderful story The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, has Aslan, the Christ figure, sacrificed on a table. And when Aslan is resurrected, the table is broken, never to be used again. The breaking of the table was not just so sacrifices could never be made again, but so that all that went with it was done away.
Tables may be good. But they aren’t the Kingdom.
Michael Henderson 