The Table

“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets.” Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk (pg. 52)


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Yesterday, in one of our church gatherings during family communion, we asked the church to write the names of those who are hurting during the beginning of the holiday season on a large sheet of paper in the front of the sanctuary.

Some wrote their own names. Others wrote the names of women and men experiencing Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time as a single mother/father. One person wrote the names of homeless women and men he'd been working with the last several months, while another person wrote the names of people undone by the loss of a spouse. One young person prayed for their grandma; at least I deciphered the writing, "Mimi," as the work of a grandchild.

In a time of systematic, commercial frenzy--the church is a place that offers healing, relationships, and listening ears. We do not offer "air-tight" answers for most people need a person, not a clever diatribe on suffering, angels, and God's activity in the world.