The Lessons of a Luncheon
Recently, St. George’s Food Pantry hosted our Annual Holiday Luncheon. Instead of handing out our usual bags of food and sending folks on their way, we invited them into the Parish Hall for a Thanksgiving-style meal. Our volunteers rotated through the stations at the buffet table to allow everyone a chance to sit down with our guests and enjoy the meal together. Everyone left with a full belly and a cheerful giftbag filled with thick wool socks, gloves, a hat, and some chocolate.
On the surface, this seems like a nice tradition, a kindness we extend to our visitors during the holiday season. It is those things, of course; but it is also so much more.
Throughout the year, we give food to hungry people in our community, no questions asked. If you come to our doors, you will be fed. We have emergency bags made up in the kitchen, so even if you miss the hour we are open each weekday, you will still receive food. St. George’s is committed to being the hands and feet of Christ, and this is one of our most tangible daily examples. We love our neighbors and are committed to being a light in our community.
On the day of our luncheon, however, we take it a step further. We don’t merely feed our neighbors. We sit down and break bread together. We engage in meaningful and lively conversations, conversations that our daily model doesn’t allow. The lines between “the helper” and “the needy” are erased, and we simply become a room full of people enjoying lunch together. We are all members of the beloved community, enjoying a foretaste of the heavenly banquet. There is always a moment when I pause and look around, seeing the volunteers and our guests eating together, and I think, “this is what heaven looks like.” Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Every year, without exception, there are guests who ask what they can do to help. They offer to help clean up afterwards, or to ferry food back and forth from the kitchen. Other times people have stayed til the bitter end, helping put the chairs and tables back or offering to help with the dishes. One year a gentleman dug into his well-worn coat and insisted on giving me two dollars. I am always struck and humbled by their generosity. The command to “love your neighbor” isn’t just for us to magnanimously give to others; it also for us to humbly receive.
As we enter into the holiday season, I pray we all are able to hold on to the lessons of our luncheon: community, generosity, kindness, and love of our neighbors.
Peace,
Denise Cormaney