A seat at the table. My paternal grandmother was a widow, she had been since her 40’s. A child of the Great Depression, she was very shrewd with her money, she saved everything… used aluminum foil, small pieces of string, rubber bands, ketchup and pads of butter from a restaurant, and anything else of any perceived value. Interestingly, in spite of her frugality, she was very generous with those she loved. She lived very humbly, except for her car, she loved a Cadillac. Arthritis had crippled her, she walked very slowly and with great pain. Though knee replacement had become an option in her lifetime, she never felt comfortable with spending that kind of money on herself. My family saw her at least once a week. My cousins stayed with her every day after school. She was a smart and curious woman. Her curiosity about people could come off as unkind, or at least insensitive. For example, she once asked a very tall check out clerk at the grocery if she was standing on a box. Mother Mac was not a cook and didn’t have a large place to host people, but she loved good food and her family. Nearly every Sunday after church, she invited my family and my cousins’ family to lunch. One of her favorite places was called Pero’s Restaurant owned and operated by the Peroulas family. It had delicious Greek and Italian food. It was like my big fat Greek lunch, only we were Irish, Scottish, and some Jewish mixed in. They put two tables together to accommodate the 9 of us who enjoyed the crackers with butter before the meal, a great salad, and the veal parmigiana was the best in town. She had a sweet tooth, so we always enjoyed dessert, besides it came with the meal (another great value). We all laughed and teased each other a lot (teasing was one of our love languages). We always left there full of good food, good memories and good times together. This was Mother Mac’s way of taking care of her own and keeping her family together. Later, we all appreciated her intentionality in making this a family tradition, though at the time we may not have recognized it. It helped establish our identity and sense of belonging. If you belonged to Mother Mac you ate lunch together on Sundays. Sunday lunch with Mother Mac was the place we wanted to be, she even welcomed our friends and significant others as we grew older. She used her resources for something important to her, her family. Because of her smart investments, and great generosity, she also helped two generations in her family go to college. Unfortunately, her digestive tract was so compromised by all the aspirin she had to take for arthritic pain, she had to have part of it removed and it eventually took her life.
God’s people had lost their sense of identity as His people. They had forgotten that they belonged to Yaweh. They had run after other gods that provided no real help or provision. Their gods were not capable of the loving covenant connection that Yaweh provided them. Spiritually, they were bankrupt. Isaiah reminded them as he prophesied of a coming Messiah, that belonging to God means that He loves and provides for those who are His and He has a place for them at the table. “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful love promised to David.” (Isaiah 55:1–3 NIV) Jesus himself speaks of the kingdom of God as a banquet prepared for all who will come (Matt. 22). If we belong to Him, if we are one of His, if we identify as His, if we are connected to Him, we have a seat at the table.
Hang in there people! God is glad to be with us! I’m praying for us all!
