Give to God What is God's

" The Pharisees went out and laid plans to trap Jesus in his words. 'Teacher', they said, 'we know you are a man of integrity and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. You aren't swayed by men, because you pay no attention to who they are. Tell us then, what is your opinion? Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?' . . . . Jesus said to them, 'Give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's.' " [Matthew 22: 15-21].

Jesus was in fact trapped here. If he said that Caesar's power should be recognized by the payment of tax, Jesus would be accused of forgetting God. If Jesus said He recognized only God's power, he could be accused of treason against Rome.  How to unwind this trap?

I grew up in what was ostensibly a Christian household. Yes, we attended church. We called ourselves "Episcopalian". But, even as a small girl, I gradually came to see that this label "Episcopalian" was what we DID on Sunday mornings and not who we were inside.

My Episcopal church gave Communion on one Sunday per month. It was called "Communion Sunday". We tended to skip those Sundays. My mother thought that Communion was unsanitary: all those people touching hands to receive the host, and drinking from the same cup. Communion was a practical exercise for her,  one she did not want any part of. It was not imbued with any meaning in her mind.

And yet, almost every Sunday, I heard about the central role of Communion in the Christian church.

My family would make remarks about the families who attended church regularly and actually believed "that stuff". I would hear that those who are in church more often are less capable of getting through life. Or that regular churchgoers are even hypocrites, because they are the ones who are the worst sinners.

And yet, I heard in church that Jesus died for us ALL, to save us from sin.

I would hear talk in my family about "those people", persons with a different nationality or color of skin.

And yet, as a child, I learned a song that says, "Jesus loves me, yes I know." I thought that meant, "All are welcome." Or so the hymn goes, anyway.

I would hear at home, "You have to take care of yourself first!" But in church, I heard, "It is better to give than to receive."

As you would expect --we stopped going to church right after I had received my First Communion and I had become Confirmed. I asked to keep going to church, but I was told, "We already did that." Going to church was a rite of passage, and I had already "graduated" from church. Continuing to attend church made about as much sense to my family as would returning me to high school ad infinitem, even after graduation.

As you can imagine, when I reached my teens, I was pretty confused about my faith and the role of God in my life. I thought at times that I had to choose between my parents and God! But I wanted both, I needed both. And YET -- deep inside my heart, I could recognize that my parents were wrong!

So I took my faith underground. In my family, it was unacceptable to go to church or put one's faith in God for things that I was too human to accomplish myself. So I simply stopped talking about these ideas. That does not mean that my faith went away. It simply went dormant. There were times that I wondered if my parents were right, that maybe there IS no God. But I could not bring myself to believe that.

As a young adult, if I went home for a holiday, I instinctively hid my gold cross under my collar. If my family came over to my place, I hid my Bible upstairs. I did not try to attack them for their lack of faith. I knew it would do no good. Some family members even told me point blank, "Church is a waste of time and money." How can a child fight that?

So, throughout my life, I "paid to Caesar what was owed to Caesar". I did not disrespect my parents about their faith or lack thereof. I tried as hard as I could to "honor thy father and thy mother".

I did not become them. Neither did I abandon them. When my father died abruptly a few years ago, I took my mother back. She had to go into assisted living in her last years, but I saw her almost every day. We were diametrically opposed about faith until the end of her life. She would say to me, "You do not NEED to go to church." I would gently correct her, "I cannot take care of you the way that I do without it." She never had any idea how much faith and trust in God it took to bring her back into my life and become her caregiver.

My whole life, I walked this narrow tightrope. Trying to respect my parents but striving mightily to give to God what is God's -- my faith and trust in Him, my spirit, my gifts, my soul! Some have told me that I have a steely bond with God. Given my family of origin, I have had to keep my eye fixed upon Him or I would have become totally lost.

Impossible, you say! How could you have made those distinctions as a child? But this kind of walk IS the Christian walk. It is extremely difficult. It is painful and scary. It is confusing at times, and even uncomfortable. But it is right.


Think about your own situation. Maybe you have spiritual longings, but you are in a family of little faith. Maybe you live in a place with few churches, or even in a country where religion is restricted. How do you respect your current "regime" but also remain true to the God inside you?

Iwould say, in the end, honoring those boundaries is what can make the difference between being an ordinary human being, and someone who is truly great. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "If I am stopped, this movement will not stop, because this movement IS God!" Why is he one of our greatest heroes? Because he stood up to "Caesar" and said, No more. Kill me if you have to, but I speak God's Truth.

Where is the line between God and Caesar? You may not realize it, but we walk this line every day, moment by moment.  The line is in the mother telling her children, 'No, you will not watch that violent movie.' It is in your decision to fast from meat during Lent even if your friends are going out for hamburgers. It is in an employee refusing to sell a product that he finds distasteful or immoral. It is in celebrating Sundays as Family Day, even if everyone else is shopping at the mall. It is in giving God your honor, your time, your conviction.

God, I live in this world, but I belong to You! I pray to always keep You in my sight, in my heart and in my life.

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2011. All Rights Reserved.

Raising The Future

"How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods, and sees a brother or sister in need, and yet refuses to help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action." [I John 3:16-18].

October commemorates Respect Life Month. It is a month that resonates with me. You see, when I turned thirteen, my grandmother and my mother sat me down in the kitchen of my home, and as they wished me Happy Birthday, they became sort of teary eyed. They told me that I was growing up, becoming a fine young woman. And that they never thought they would see this day -- because my mother almost died in childbirth and I almost died too!

That moment changed my life. With this news, I was forced to contemplate that I might never have been born at all! On my thirteenth birthday, I felt as if I had been born all over again. I was acutely aware of what an incredible gift I had been given.

Life becomes greatly more significant and precious, when you meditate on the hypothesis that you might never have been born at all. Even the worst days of your whole life are precious, simply because you are alive!

I wish the whole world could feel that elation at being alive, and that fierce determination to make your life count and really mean something!

There is a tiny, unassuming building in my area that embodies this dedication to the preciousness of life.  It is a compact, tan brick building on a residential street, the kind of building you might totally miss if you did not know it was there. It is St. Agnes Home, a residential program for expectant mothers.

Perhaps some may blame these young women for their "predicament." I hope it is because people do not always see or understand their circumstances. These women may live in overcrowded and substandard housing. They may have become estranged from any family, because of their "mistake".  They may have had to interrupt their education or had to quit work because of their pregnancy.

These women are often teens with few resources. They have made the courageous decision to honor life by bringing their babies into this world. These women deserve our help, not our condemnation.

I like to call St. Agnes Home a tiny powerhouse. From the street, it looks so small, and yet, inside, there are bedrooms for 16 young women. There is a licensed daycare so that the women can go to school. There is a small school on the premises, with three classrooms and a computer room, for women who need more academic support than is offered in a community school. There are licensed RN's on staff who make sure that mother and baby are  receiving the proper nutrition and health advice. There is even a thriving vegetable garden in the back yard.

So, someone may say, there are only 16 young women who are in residence. Why bother when you can help so few? To that, I say, God helps us all, one at a time.  Every time a mother is rescued, her baby is rescued at the same time.

As I delved into the history of St. Agnes, I realized that they have been in existence since 1914! In their previous facility, there were 120 rooms and four stories. That adds up to hundreds of precious babies and their mothers, getting the help that they need.

Some may say, so what, you get the young mother and her baby through the first year of the baby's life, and then what?

I would like you to hear the story of Shanda. She came to the home at age 14, pregnant and scared. Her mother was abusing drugs. She was being raised by her grandmother. There were 10-12 kids in the house. When she found out that she was pregnant, she describes herself as "devastated". She was too ashamed to continue going to school. Her neighborhood was violent -- no place to raise a baby.

With the help of St. Agnes Home, she earned her high school degree. Her average in her senior year was a 4.0! She went on to college. After college, she earned her Masters in Social Work. Now she is not only supporting herself, she is able to give back and help others.

We have so many issues in our modern life: drug abuse, child abuse, poverty, terrorism, pollution, joblessness. We cannot afford to neglect the next generation. They ARE our future!

God, my life is precious. All life is precious! May I speak this with my lips, but also prove it with my love.

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2011. All Rights Reserved.

Many Are Invited

"Many are invited but few are chosen". [Matthew 22: 14].

In this Scripture, Jesus tells a parable of a king who invites guests to a wedding feast for his son. The first set of guests refused to come. The next guests paid no attention and went off to field and business. The next guests abused the king's servants and killed them. Finally, the invitation was relayed to the streets, and any and all were welcomed to the feast. A man who came to the banquet refused to don the wedding garb that was provided, in order to clothe the guests in respect. The king becomes angry and casts him out.

It is then that the king concludes, "Many are invited but few are chosen."

When I read this parable, I am reminded that "the desire for God is written in the human heart."  [Catholic Cathechism].  So why do we turn away from God's open invitation?

When I was a tiny girl, my parents took  me to church. I was baptized there, I received my First Communion there. I was Confirmed in the church.

Abruptly, around the time that my grandmother died a tragic death, my parents stopped taking me to church. I was upset that they took church away. I asked to go but they refused to take me. In my child's logic, I thought that by taking church away, they could take my faith away.

I did not dare to defy my parents and walk the many miles by myself, across the busy roads through town, to my church. I also did not dare to defy my parents and ask a neighbor to take me to church.

I had physical impediments to going to church. I had spiritual impediments imposed upon me from others. The atmosphere around faith and religion were intolerant. Perhaps you have not gotten closer to God for similar reasons?

My habit of no longer going to church slowly transformed into a deep seated doubt. My parents' lack of belief settled into my spirit. Gradually, my not going to church became wondering where God was? Even wondering if there was a God? Perhaps you have not gotten closer to God out of indifference, which has grown into full fledged doubt?

When I became old enough, I left home to go to college, then to university for graduate school. I was many miles from home and miles from the religious intolerance I had lived under. I was free, theoretically, to go back to church, to explore my faith. But I was busy with friends, bogged down with trying to work for high grades, so I could become independent. Somehow, I never "got around to" finding a church. Perhaps  you have not gotten closer to God because you are preoccupied with worldly things?

After college and university, I met my husband, who is Catholic. Once we met, I started going to church with him regularly. This was the first step to drawing nearer to God. Except, just as when I was a child, I thought that God resided in church, and not in my heart! I thought it was enough to attend Sunday Masses to become closer to God. I did not know that, in addition to attending Mass, I needed to attend to my spirit. Perhaps  you are not closer to God because you are relying solely on the rituals of Mass?

Recently, my world fell apart. My best friend was diagnosed with cancer, my father died abruptly, I had to move my seriously ill mother near me and provide for her care. My best friend lost her battle with cancer. Then my mother-in-law died. Then my mother died. I lost sight of God. I honestly thought that He was gone. Perhaps you have not gotten closer to God because you are in such pain and confusion that you can no longer see Him?

Sometimes, we hit bottom spiritually. The only person we feel that we can cling to is God. IF we can find Him!

I felt like I was in a frightening storm and everything was upside down and backwards. I needed a Rock to cling to, I needed to feel like I could somehow right my world again. This is when I converted.

I finally chose a church and began the work of finding God again. Of reconciling myself to Him. This did not seem like a very good time at all. My mother, who was very suspicious of Christians in general and Catholics in particular, and who was with me on a daily basis, kept telling me that I did not "need to" go to church. She repeated her anti-religion litany as often as possible. Perhaps you have not gotten closer to God because those around you would criticize you and even persecute you?

I was at that time struggling to care for my ill mother, settle my father's estate, run my household, care for my husband and son. I would ask God, 'WHY now, God? Can't you see I'm a little overwhelmed?'
Perhaps you have not gotten closer to God because you cannot see the rationale for God's timing?

And, I felt such overwhelming fear, because I had not received the Eucharist since I was a young teen. I could not imagine walking down that long aisle to the altar to receive Communion. Perhaps you have not gotten closer to God out of fear.

Then I began to think, Who am I to convert now, when I am an adult ---a wife, a mother, AND a lapsed Christian? What would people think of me when all of a sudden, after so many years of sitting it out in the pew, I suddenly started going up to the altar to receive? Perhaps you have not become closer to God because you think that you are not worthy?

I have also struggled with the fact that I was not born Catholic. I asked several Catholics, How do you know if you are? The answer was, it is who you regard as your flock, your clan. I took me a while to feel that this was my spiritual home. Perhaps you are not closer to God because you are not sure if you belong?

Miraculously, God invites us ALL to his banquet. Yet, there are SO many impediments to our responding to God! Jesus says, "Few are chosen." But the reality is, few of us choose HIM.

I have passed through just about every impediment to accepting God's invitation: physical impossibility, denial by those in control of my life, doubt, busyness, over-reliance on ritual, blindness, pain, confusion, persecution, fear, lack of self worth, feelings of not belonging.

In my experience, few are chosen because this is a  thick jungle of obstacles to cut through, to get to God.

But, I can tell you that, when I finally went up that long aisle to receive the Eucharist, I was in tears-- tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of acceptance. All the impossibilities, the doubts, the busyness, the empty ritual without the heart of desire, the blindness, the pain, the confusion, the fear, the persecution, the lack of self worth, the feelings that I did not belong -- all were swept away in that one moment of feeling nearer to God.

I still feel that way, every time that I receive the Eucharist. In that moment, I feel that anything preventing me from coming closer to God is swept clean, swept away.

God, I pray that You clear from my heart any fear, any doubt, any pain, any confusion, any blindness, any hurt, that can keep me from You!

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2011. All Rights Reserved.

The God of Peace

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-- think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or even seen in me -- put into practice. And the God of peace will be with you." [Philippians 4: 6-9].

I am a world class worrier. Sometimes, I say to my family, "Tell me what is wrong, so I can worry about it!"  I am so good at worrying, that I sometimes worry about worrying!

Peace. Isn't this what we all want? Peace at the dinner table. Peace in our childrens' classrooms. Peace amongst our neighbors. Peace in the world. Peace in our hearts.

I want a peace so huge, so vast and all-encompassing that it is hard to even fathom. I want a sense of solitude and calm and quiet strength to envelope me. That is what God wants for all of us. That IS God, the peace that surpasses anything that we mere mortals can ever understand.

So if my days are so filled with anxiety, how can I get some of this peace in my own heart? I need to hold onto what is right and true, not what is unjust and wrong. I need to hold onto what is pure and noble, not what is lowly or violent or debased.  I need to hold onto what is admirable and excellent, not what is mediocre or shoddy.

To hold onto what is right, true, pure, noble, admirable and excellent can be a battle these days. There is so much violence, injustice, sin and death in the world. This is not new; it was always so.

When I think back to my earliest days as a child, I was always in this battle.

There were times that I was called a failure, but I studied even harder and worked even more, to prove them wrong. I got all A's, I graduated with honors. I held excellence in my sight.

There were times that I was told, 'Who would marry you?' But I made sure to hold what was gentle and loving and sweet in my heart. And I DID marry.

There were times that my home was anything but quiet and peaceful. But I never returned the verbal abuse that was aimed at me. I said loving things. Or I kept silent.

If there was physical danger, I left the room. Or I left the house.

If I wasn't fed a proper dinner, I ate elsewhere, at a neighbor's or in the school cafeteria.

However ugly it may have been in that house, I brought fresh flowers in from the garden to decorate my room. I tended my mother's garden, weeding her flower beds, without her asking me. Without complaint. To counter all the ugliness, I gathered loveliness.

If I heard lies about myself, or about God from their lips, I whispered the Truth to myself, under my breath.

This is a hard battle. It has been a lifelong battle. I know that I could not do this alone.

So who has been my greatest ally? God.

Sometimes, I lose sight of God. I get close to despair at all the dark things in this world. Then I remember that I survived by thinking about and striving for what is pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy. I did not wallow in what was thrown at me. I said, 'No! I have to believe in something else! I have to rise above all this! I have to move away from this, to something purer, more right!'

And if at times, I struggle to hold all these wonderful things in my mind, in the face of such ugliness, I pray. I petition God for whatever I think I need, in order to keep my eyes on Him. I always, always begin each morning of prayer with thanksgiving for my considerable blessings. I especially give thanks for everyone I have met who shows me the face of God.

God, may I look to You for whatever is pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy, right, true, just and strong. May I always find peace in You!

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2011. All Rights Reserved.

Changing Our Minds

"A man had two sons. He went to the first son and said, 'Son, go and work today in the vineyard.' 'I will not', he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, 'I will, sir,' but he did not go. Which of the two did what his father wanted?" [Matthew 28- 31]

It is said that "It is a woman's perogative to change her mind." I actually resent this saying. It makes it sound like all women are fickle, that they are too feeble to know their own minds. It also hints at a certain level of manipulativeness on the part of women. All very unflattering views of women. And very negative connotations to the notion of changing our minds.

Or, what do we say about a politician who changes his mind on hot-button issues? We say that he is "waffling". That he is flip flopping. The latter sounds like he is a fish out of water, out of his element, even on his way to certain death. It is surely the death knell to a politician's popularity if he dares to change his mind. A politician changing his mind makes him seem weak, untrustworthy, even opportunistic.

My young son thinks that adults are fully formed and that we always know-- and do-- the right thing. Then he becomes infuriated if he sees adults parking in a No Parking Zone. Or being mean to their kids. I remind him that just because I am as tall as I will ever be, I am still growing and changing on the inside. I also tell him that when you make a mistake, it is more praiseworthy to fix it than to keep repeating the mistake.

This parable in Matthew presumes that we need to change our minds! Why?! Because we are human and sometimes, it takes a few tries to get it right. I feel blessed that God is that patient with me!

Several years ago, I changed my mind in a deep and profound way. You see, I was the victim of a violent crime. I was so beaten, my own mother did not recognize me. When I fought the attacker and he did not get his way with me, he started to strangle me.  I was beginning to pass out. After the attacker mercifully left me alive but wounded, I called 911. When the police came, the officer told me that I had been within 30 seconds to a minute from death.

In the ensuing days, I was understandably in shock. But gradually over the following weeks, I realized this the attacker needed serious help. He did not need to be put to death by the state. That would be only more violence. I had almost died, I did not need to witness more death. I was in law school then and as I hung around the law school Legal Aid clinic, I came to see how shockingly often that mistakes were made in court. It was then that I changed my mind on the death penalty.  If I had been asked to testify against my attacker in a penalty phase, I would have advocated against the death penalty.

Another very impressive man who changed his mind was Robert Curley. His ten year old son Jeffrey was abducted and sexually assaulted in MA in 1997.  I have heard Robert Curley speak, and it is inspiring to hear him talk about how he fell into rage and despair after the death of his son; but how gradually, he realized that his anger and desire for revenge would not bring his son back. He went from advocating for the death penalty, to speaking out strongly against capital punishment.

How weak is it of us to find out the truth and to change our minds? Consider St. Paul, who called himself the unlikeliest of saints, who went from zealous persecutor to one of the most dedicated --and most persecuted--apostles for Christ. Or, consider John Newton. He began his young working life as the captain of a slave ship, witnessing and perpetuating the most vicious humiliation of his "cargo". He ended up a minister --and  the author of the hymn Amazing Grace!

By what amazing grace can YOU change your mind? With what courage can YOU seek the truth and dare to speak it?

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2011. All Rights Reserved.

Coming to Believe

" What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work today in the vineyard.'   'I will not', he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, 'I will, sir', but he did not go. Which of the two did what his father wanted?" [Matthew 21: 28-31].

I have one son, but sometimes, I think I have two sons, he so often acts like two opposite creatures,with two minds.

Recently, I asked my son to go out and water my flowers, while I went to the market to pick up some milk for him. His answer? "No!" I was angry with him for being so disrespectful. I said, "I hope to see a better attitude when I get home!" I went to the market. When I came home, the flowers were watered.

I asked my husband, "Did YOU water the flowers for me?" My husband said, "No, our son did."

Needless to say, although I did not care for our son's initially poor attitude, I was thrilled that he came around. I praised him for his obedience.

But sometimes, I tell my son that he has played his computer games long enough and he needs to turn off the game and do his homework. What I get is, "Yess, Momm!" His tone is absent-minded. His voice is faint, not very convincing. I can tell that he is "yes-yessing" me. He has no intention of turning off the computer game. Anytime soon.

He is telling me yes, but he means no. This infuriates me. He is patronizing me, treating me like he knows better; giving me false hopes; even failing to tell the truth.

I read this Scripture and I think, how modern the Bible is. Every parent who has received a patronizing, 'Yes, mom', knows the despair at hearing this delaying tactic.  How do you think God feels when we tell Him yes, but we have no intention of being obedient? Or somehow we never get around to doing it?

Which son would you rather be? As terrible as it is to say no to God, I would rather be the first son.

In fact, I have been like the first son for most of the years of my faith formation. When I was young, I buried my faith because I did not dare stand up to my family, who did not believe in church or religion.

After awhile, I had ceased attending church for so long, I almost started to believe my family's rhetoric that there was no God and that church was a waste of time, and was only for sinners.

Then I married a Christian and a Catholic. I dutifully went to church with him but never seemed to get around to converting. I was an official fence-sitter when it came to actually choosing a church and a religion.

I was a faithful church-goer without a religion  for literally decades. I don't know what I was thinking, that God would just go away and leave me alone? Even my  young son had conversations with me about choosing a church so I could receive the Eucharist. My sweet young son was worried about my soul, my relationship to God!

Finally, finally, after the sudden death of my father, after facing the death of my best friend and the terminal illness of my mother--- FINALLY, I went to the pastor and complained that I could no longer see God! And this is the process that brought me from the depths of despair, to conversion.

God is so generous, that He will take your no's for a very long time. He will wait for you as long as it takes; and He will accept you with joyous and loving arms when you are finally ready to say yes -- even if you are the worst sinner, even if you try to ignore Him for most of your life, even if  you have serious doubts about your faith for decades.

The point is, that God loves you for making the right decision in the end. He expects us to be imperfect in our love for Him, we are human. He also expects us to change and grow over time. He ardently wishes for us to turn to Him, despite our doubts, despite our fears, despite our inability to sometimes even see that He is there. Or maybe, He desires us to turn to Him because of all these challenges!

God, I thank you for your generous love for me, even if I may doubt You, or fear becoming closer to You, or fail to appreciate Your constant devotion. Thank You for the powerful opportunity to change my mind!

(c) The Spiritual Devotional 2011. All Rights Reserved.

Family Day

"Man does not live by bread alone." [Deuteronomy 8].

In my parish, September 26 is "Family Day: A Day to Eat Dinner With Your Children."  Family Day is sponsored by Columbia University's National Center On Addiction and Substance Abuse.

You think, what does eating dinner with your children have to do with substance abuse? It turns out, a lot. Families who regularly eat dinner with their children tend to raise children who do not abuse drugs, alcohol or smoke cigarettes. The simple act of a shared meal, gentle conversation, laughter and sharing of stories binds families together.

A generation ago, it was unthinkable not to have family dinnertime every night of the week. I still cook dinner every night, and my family and I eat together around the kitchen table. When people find out about that, some say to me, "You COOK?! Every night?!"  I find that sad. It makes me feel like some sort of bizarre anomaly.


A generation ago, the family and the church were at the center of everyday life. Not so any longer-- and we are not necessarily the better for that.


What has become the norm today is a far different picture. Maybe the kids have too many athletic practices and games after school. "Dinner" becomes grabbing some fast food in the car on the way to the sports field. Maybe mom or dad work late most nights. Maybe the kids eat dinner in front of the TV, then retire to the computer or to electronic games, while mom and dad eat dinner separately.

Growing up, we ate dinner every night in the dining room- and no TV was allowed! If the phone rang during dinner, my mother would gripe, WHO is THAT calling during the dinner hour?!

One of the fondest memories I have is of going to my grandmother's house every week for Sunday dinner. My whole family would be there, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins.  Grandma would serve a big dinner in the middle of the day-- a roast of some sort, some potatoes roasted with the meat, and two kinds of vegetables, plus a home made dessert.  We celebrated every holiday, every anniversary, every birthday.

These were the ties that would bind us as a family. I have for the most part lost those ties. My grandparents and my parents are all gone. The rest of us have all moved far away from each other, moved on. But I miss those Sundays!

Think of that warm, happy feeling you get from Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, with all the relatives together for the day. I would posit that it is much more than the fancy meal and extravagant desserts fueling that happy feeling. A family dinner is about much more than a full belly. No, it is about the connection that we get from being with our "clan", a feeling of being part of something, of belonging to someone.

When I got married, I vowed that we would always sit down to a meal together at the end of the day. There were times early in our marriage that all we could afford were rice and beans, or canned tunafish for dinner. But every night, we would light a candle, count our blessings and break bread together.

Sometimes, my young son asks, Why do we have to eat together, at the same time? I tell him, Only wolves eat alone. He asks, Why do we have to sit at the table to eat? I tell him, Only horses eat standing up. Sharing a daily meal together is what makes us human.


It also encourages family conversation. I have been noticing lately that parents talk AT kids, not with them: "Sit down! Be quiet! Eat! Sit up straight! Stop that!" Of course, a parent's job is to teach their children by giving instruction. But addressing one's children as people in their own right, with a story to tell, or maybe even an opinion on world hunger, is extremely valuable too.  

So, it turns out that this mealtime ritual does not just bring on good feelings. It is powerful medicine for the soul.


God, I do not live by bread alone. Bring me together, with those I love, for my daily meal. Give me my daily bread of food to eat, and of love from my family to feed my soul.

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