Thanksgiving

Throughout the year, I attend some inspiring Masses, not only at Holy Infant, but in my travels as well. Among my favorites within Holy Infant is the Mass celebrated on Thanksgiving Day. It is so special to me and my family that we delay our holiday travels as not to miss this exceptional occasion. As with Sundays and holy days of obligation, multiple Masses are scheduled. But Thanksgiving never falls on Sunday nor is it a holy day. Only one Mass is designated on Thursday.

Morning sun illuminates Holy Infant’s signature stained glass scattering rays filling the sanctuary. Our parish family and welcomed guests and relatives pack the pews to standing room only … and beneath wooden benches, for a short time, we stow away the gifts we carry.

With joy, excitement, apprehension, expectation, we reflect … prompted through scripture, Father’s words of wisdom, the Holy Spirit … upon those events or aspects of our lives for which we are blessed and grateful. While I’m engaged in reflection, an uprising, anticipation among the children surrounding me bursts with the Presentation of the Gifts. Every man, woman, and child flood the aisles carrying gifts of food and hygiene products. Toddlers barely able to hold the weight of a can of chili walk beside those with food nestled in their laps wheeling their chairs slowly forward. Today’s “loaves and fishes” for the hungry bury the foot of the altar. And as in Christ’s time, our Church has plenty of room for more food while our pantries continue to feed more families. The multi-colored plastic bags, torn paper sacks, tattered boxes littered with cans, … the laughter and greetings among us as we approach the altar, … the embraces, the letting go of little hands and reconnecting after the delivery … they all create a “blessed mess,” an awesome, beautiful, permanent image! All of this occurs free of obligation! The pinnacle of the celebration, the Eucharist, bestows us with precious spiritual nourishment making all of the aforementioned meaningful. Within the Eucharist, the multiplication of the gifts launches.

Immediately following the final blessing of the Mass, the community ritual continues. All are welcome to participate (so if you’ve missed it, reserve the date on this year’s calendar.) People converge on the steps beneath the vigilant eyes of our Lord and create a conveyor of food winding its way downstairs into organized chaos, ants unpacking, distributing, repacking, and stacking. I’ve heard so many, kids and adults, mention how the fun in the flurry of activity passes too quickly. The next day, volunteers truck hundreds of boxes to the pantry. Additional volunteers then distribute food serving those in need for weeks and months to follow. What started at the altar, the focal point, diverged, spreading throughout the community.

The Thanksgiving experience always makes me uncomfortable, this year particularly so. Amongst the can sorting hustle, I came upon food I never imagined to be processed into cans. Do people really eat this stuff? Powerful waves of thought engulfed me. What do those eat … who suffer in concentration camps, in refugee camps, on inner city streets, on battlefields? Do they eat? Had the freedom to select food numbed my appreciation for … the farmers, the technicians, the streamlining to deliver it … the tools, the table, the friends, the warmth, the peace to share this food … the very simple act of feeding myself? The waves swelled in height and turbulence.

How do I consider the poor with my offerings both locally and abroad? Do I relativize my position to those in need, glad that I am not begging for food, shelter, medicine, or clothing? Do I consider the commitment and ramifications of elevating the quality of life, the socio-economic status for the marginalized at a cost to my own?

A year before being selected pope, Francis spoke as a bishop to an ecumenical gathering of religious leaders in Buenos Aires. He questioned how Argentinians could raise food for 300 million people while sending millions to bed hungry among his country’s 38 million residents. He challenged in his response: “The way much [developed countries] are living today, the only thing that matters is the success of our economic systems and what is least important is the well-being of mankind.”

Many among our community express these same concerns, but without the global audience of a pope. Are we listening? I think so. Within our community, many hands reach, many hands are open. I was extremely encouraged with Holy Infant’s community service weekend hosted last fall. Parishioners of every age, children and adults, were invited and encouraged to tackle a variety of needs in our community. This is only one example of an ever-growing number of services our community provides ….

Little fingers drop a can of Pork ‘N Beans setting it rolling along the floor. Children scramble to catch it, deliver it to the correct box. The Spirit is in the house! The Kingdom is at hand! The waves subside and I whisper “thank you” knowing my community is wrestling with these same challenges.

PS I like that Thanksgiving precedes Christmas. The physical act of carrying and bringing our loved ones and our gifts to the altar is a dress rehearsal, a reminder of the journey we will prepare and embark upon as we head to Bethlehem to visit the new born King.

This clip may be a bit of a stretch, but one to watch! Enjoy the photography of Louie Schwartzberg and the narration by Benedictine Brother David Steindl-Rast.