The Afterlife of Thanksgiving

by the Rev. Katherine Bush

It’s December, and Advent, and the onrush toward Christmas, but luckily for me, I had some unread emails waiting for me after the Thanksgiving holiday. I say lucky, not because I (or any of us) love the pile of unread missives, another reminder that I must unsubscribe from a host of places, but lucky because I actually opened one that promised a lovely poem. The hook was Wendell Berry, and the promise was for brevity, and it delivered both: 

“Prayer After Eating,” Wendell Berry

I have taken in the light
that quickened eye and leaf.
May my brain be bright with praise
of what I eat, in the brief blaze
of motion and of thought.
May I be worthy of my meat.

I ate well over the holiday (more good luck). Some favorites: two kinds of pie, apple and pumpkin, and some new offerings: ask me about fried sage salsa verde! And I am grateful this morning for Wendell’s voice that reminds me that I have taken in the light / that quickened eye and leaf. Because everything that was on my table came from somewhere else through the massive efforts of many hands, and everything that I ate grew somewhere in this world, quickened by science I don’t quite understand. And all that lives and churns in me, propelling me forward. 

And also, I consumed more than calories. I ate up the light of conversation with a wise friend or two. I took in the sight of my children at home and around my table. I walked along paths strewn with yellow leaves as if a profligate flower-girl with a basket of golden petals walked ahead of us. 

Perhaps you were fortunate enough to have some version of a feast, whether with a small circle or a big crowd. Perhaps you did all the cooking, or set a table, or brought a small contribution to someone else’s board. Or maybe this recent holiday was more complicated than joyful, or the meals you ate were just like any others might have been on any other day. Perhaps you ate a meal off “the good plates,” or maybe you made a sandwich standing at the kitchen counter. No matter the means or the meal, what else are you taking in? Some fleeting beauty, a belly laugh, some hard-fought tears, a meaningful paragraph in the midst of a long read … Consider the idea that you took in the light from a chance encounter, from a cup of coffee, from a song on the radio, and that now as we enter these dark days of December with the patience required of Advent, our brains – full of such things – might be bright with praise. 

All that came before us, whether Thanksgiving bounty or not, fuels us for what lies ahead of us. This is always true in any season; I am just grateful for the particular nudge to remember in these recent days. We are full not just of pie, but of light, and that light will last into the motions and thoughts and errands and hard conversations and carols and rain. May we be worthy of that meat. May we know that we are not walking through these darker days on empty, but fueled by the lives that surround us. May we carry the light we’ve received into the days ahead.