What does the Thanksgiving holiday have to do with our Catholic faith? “Nothing at all,” some might say. It is a secular holiday with roots in the traditions of the very anti-Catholic Puritans. But it is a day that combines gratitude, food, and family —you can’t get much more Catholic than that.

Gratitude

All people of faith have some element of praise and thanksgiving in their spiritual practice. Devout Jews recite the Amidah—a prayer that begins with God’s praises and concludes with thanksgiving—three times a day. Muslims pray five times a day to thank God. For Catholics, though, there is an even more intimate connection between our faith and gratitude.

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The “correct” contents of the Thanksgiving meal can be a source of comfort, but also a cornucopia of contention. The homey smells of turkey and pumpkin pie wafting from the oven inspire nostalgia and evoke charming memories of holidays past. In some cases, however, the ingredients of the “proper” meal have become so ritualized in some families that there is no room for error.

I have an in-law for whom dressing is not dressing if it is not made with oysters. My father had grown so attached to a gaudy, colorful turkey platter that he threatened to “cancel” Thanksgiving altogether when it disappeared. And my mother was so insistent that there be cranberry sauce on the table (“and not that fancy kind with the lumps in it, but the old-fashioned kind from a can”), that one year we watched the turkey grow cold while one of my brothers went trekking to find an open grocery store.

While this habit can tend to an unfortunate extreme, it reminds us of what we as Catholics know very well—ritual and tradition are important. When we come together at Mass, there might be a surprise of coffee and doughnuts in the school cafeteria afterward, but there will be no surprises on the altar. There is a warm comfort in knowing where everything is, knowing what comes next, knowing where we belong. All we love about home and family is celebrated when we gather around a table prepared just so, just like always.

Family

At the same time, there are a few things we’d prefer not to celebrate about home and family. When it comes to bringing the family together around the Thanksgiving table, there’s always that one uncle who tries to talk politics through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Someone is always doing a “it really wasn’t even funny the first time” impression of Henry VIII with a turkey leg. And sooner or later your cousin is going to have more than her fair share of the “special occasion” wine and start reminiscing about family secrets better forgotten.

We can have the same experience as a faith community. One parish might have a tone-deaf music director. Another might feature sermons so monotonous that you find yourself making a remotecontrol fast-forward gesture out of habit.

And sooner or later you’re going to sit next to the old lady wearing at least ten ounces of perfume or the young lady wearing at most ten ounces of fabric.

Sometimes it might seem that Thanksgiving and Mass resemble one another most when we ask, “Do I have to go?” Dressing up—and dressing the kids—can be a challenge. Traditions can devolve into empty ritual and we find ourselves wondering whether it is worth the effort.

With maturity we learn that there is no Christianity without community. The very nature of God, the Trinity, has relationship at the heart of its mystery. If we’re sincere in seeking God, we’re not likely to find him in a burning bush or on a storm-capped mountain. God is always hiding where we don’t want to look—behind the turkey leg, beyond the cloying perfume, within the eyes of that long-winded preacher.

The old hymn that tells us “wherever two or three are gathered in my name” comes straight from Scripture. As much as we might like our faith to be “just me and Jesus,” Jesus won’t let us be that exclusive. He welcomes everyone and we should too. Some of the Pharisees of Jesus’s day shared our problem. They might have found it easier to accept Jesus if it weren’t for one problem: He hung out with the most disreputable people! Notorious sinners, prostitutes, even (gasp!) tax collectors!  Why would such a holy man keep company with people who were so … human?

Ever helpful, Jesus showed them (and us) the way out of this conundrum. When the townspeople dragged the woman “caught in sin” before him, certain they could at last get him to condemn something, he told them calmly, “Let the one among you who is without sin cast the first stone.”

No matter our failings, Jesus is ready to forgive us and welcome us to his table. That is something for which we can truly be thankful.

by Ericka McCabe

He began his work at Our Daily Bread in response to his province’s reminder that the friars “are supposed to be people involved with the poor.” This is a key part of the Franciscan charism.

Fr. Hilarion sees his work as “an opportunity to serve Jesus.” In the way of Mother Teresa, he sees “Jesus in disguise in all people.” Father says, “Every human being contains the glory of God.”

Fr. Hilarion “serves God by serving others.” Ask any volunteer, and you will hear the same—the experience of helping others is as transformative for the giver as for the receiver. And as Christians, it is what we are called to do: to be Jesus’s hands on earth. This call comes not just at the holidays; it is perpetual. Need knows no season.

As you gather with family and friends on this Thanksgiving Day, make part of your prayer a personal expression of those things for which you are most grateful.

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Table Prayer