'Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.' Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests.
Matthew 22:9-10 (NRSV)
In October 2019, my mom and I threw a 90th birthday party for my grandmother and invited as many of her family, friends, and former coworkers as we could. Most of them came. It was a wonderful celebration and a reunion, of sorts, since we hadn’t seen many of the attendees in several years.
I am so glad we threw that party. For one thing, of course, there were almost no gatherings of this nature in 2020. And since my grandparents are in a vulnerable age group, they didn’t make or receive many social visits either. Another reason I’m thankful for that pre-pandemic party is that it turned out to be the last time we got to see two of the people there.
Last month, one of my grandmother’s long time coworkers and friends died and so did one of our cousins. Both deaths sent painful ripples through our community and family, respectively.
I'm grateful our final meeting was during a time of celebration.
Maybe it's because I have so many good memories of gatherings like this that the Gospel parables using banquet and feast imagery are some of my favorites. This notion of all different kinds of people gathering together for a shared meal fascinates me. It is an image of what is and what will be. Sometimes I can almost envision it: a large table with joyful, welcoming faces. Sometimes I can picture the family and friends I’ve lost sitting down to enjoy a Heavenly feast. It’s an image that elevates me from the sadness of missing them too much.
But sometimes, I can’t seem to focus on that Heavenly feast. Lately, I’ve found myself preoccupied with the empty chairs at the tables in the here and now. When we all hold gatherings again, how many faces will be missing? Experts estimate hundreds of thousands have died as a result of COVID-19 in the US alone. In recent months, I’ve known several people who have passed from COVID and non-COVID related causes, and I know many others are experiencing this too. Each one of these losses is precious. Each empty chair at our tables belonged to someone who was beautiful, funny, and talented in their own unique way. And as helpful as it might be to think of them in a better place, it is also absolutely essential to simply sit and mourn their absence too. We have to laugh and cry over old memories and shared stories; we have to feel the loss. They deserve that, and so do we.
There have been seasons in my life when the hope I find in Christ has elevated me from grief and delivered me from darkness. But in other times, I’ve simply had to dwell in the grief until the season passed. My main comfort, in those times, was thoughts of the Christ who came to dwell among us, the Christ who chose to enter into our awkward, pain-filled reality. His presence walks beside us in our grief and serves as an example of how we can do the same for one another.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve realized my words and deeds are not enough to elevate myself, let alone anyone else from sorrow. Words, in particular, always seem to fail me. But I do have the power to simply be present in the moment. We all do. Despite the grief and peculiar loneliness of this season, we have the power to be present with one another, even if it’s across miles through email, phone calls, social media, or old-fashioned letters. Technology even allows us to connect with people we wouldn’t know or talk with under normal circumstances.
In short, like the servants in the Parable of the Wedding Banquet, we have the opportunity to wander down virtual and non-virtual streets; traveling alongside those we meet, bearing one another’s grief, all while hoping and striving toward a banquet of radical acceptance.
May it be so.
Meditation:
Close your eyes and picture the face of a loved one who is no longer here. Picture a time you sat at the table with them. Picture a time you laughed together. Think of their smile. Bask in the love you shared. After a few moments, meditate or pray on these words: Love is strong as death. Love never ends.
This is ggreat
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