Reclined at the Table
Clearly, I have strong feelings about the table. It's in the title of the blog. I write often about food: where it should come from, how we should cook it, etc. Nothing comes closer for me to what I believe Jesus meant by loving others than having folks over for dinner. I would even go so far as to say that feeding, hosting and loving on people around your table is EXACTLY what he meant. Like, literally. Jesus chose a meal in which to teach his friends about the sacrifice he was making on our behalf. It was the first last supper. As I've been reading through the gospels again ( necessary when I've been reading everything and everyone else voraciously, and what they think Jesus said. It's always best to go back to the source) the phrase, "reclined at the table" struck me as it's repeated throughout several parables. It's used to describe a state of rest, an honored seat, an intimate gathering where nourishment and pleasure were one in the same. People gathered for food and fellowship, both pieces integral to the table experience.
Being the one who loves to host, this phrase makes little to no sense to me. I can count on my hands the times I've, "reclined at the table". I am usually elbow deep in the throughs of a good risotto, refilling glasses, grilling pizzas, basting legs of lamb. I am hurried, flushed, preoccupied. I love it and the role I play in it, but reclining is not part of the job description. Well, not mine. I had forgotten that the magic happens around the table, and that I was missing it with my head stuck in the oven, checking the dessert.
We have a life group that's supposed to meet every other Sunday- but we seem to like each other too much to let two weeks go by and end up getting together much more often than that. Our life group folks are awesome in that they are always contributing the most delicious pieces of our meal, so that I don't have to make it all myself. I still run around like a chicken without a head checking temperatures and tasting for seasoning, but at least everyone chips in. However, this past Sunday, my friend (who happens to be mama to one of El's favorite people right now) texted and asked if she could make the WHOLE meal. The whole thing. She had a few recipes she had been wanting to try, and thought we would be good folks to try them out on. She didn't know that it was the busiest and most stressful weekend I've had in a long time. She had no idea that we couldn't have fed people even if we wanted to, as our cupboards are pretty sparse this week. I wish I could tell her with words what a blessing it was to, "recline" at my own table. I rested. I ate. I laughed. I was served. She even cleaned everything up without so much as a call of help to dry dishes. I started the process all over and as I was sitting I was self-evaluating. What does the table do to one is reclined?
I felt cared for. Accepted. I felt the freedom to speak my mind and to share my heart. I felt a kinship- a, "we're all in this together" that has the capability to feel dire, but with a cold glass of Pinot Grigio and a plate full of raspberry and apricot bread pudding, felt like home. A few pieces of bacon and a roasted tomato strata were game-changers in how I viewed who Jesus was, and who his people were. All of a sudden, his abundance and grace were everywhere. His provision, imminent. His love, palpable. All I had to do was sit at the table. Shit. That's powerful.
The impact of it nearly knocked me over. I've been serving and hosting and feeding and fussing so long, I briefly lost sight of the beauty of being reclined at the table. Of why we do this at all. People are fed at the table- physically, emotionally, spiritually. Jesus intended it to be this way.
I would have written a book about it, but Shauna Niequist beat me to it. I might still, but if you're interested in expanding the conversation about the table sooner then I suggest picking up, "Bread and Wine".
Hope you find some time to recline at the table today.