Thanksgiving Meditation: Awaiting the Feast of the Lamb

By Craig Pinley

CHICAGO, IL (November 27, 2003) - I spent a week at a journalism conference in Florida earlier this month, focusing my attention on how to better report about faith, religion and values. My fellow participants included journalism professors, religion writers, and editors from newspapers, universities and media outlets in Denmark, France, Slovakia, Nigeria, South Africa, Canada and the United States. We couldn't have been more different in our job descriptions and our philosophical views on journalism coverage of religion. But I was awed by the powerful way their faith journeys had affected who they were. The gist of these journeys were revealed in a series of personal essays shared around a large round table on a Friday morning. After each of the stories, you didn't know whether to clap (because of the beauty of the writing) or cry (because of the poignant things they had to say). Mostly, you wiped a tear or two from an eyelid and took a deep breath because you knew there was another gripping account on the way.

Vivid images I remember include these:

Recollections of how the smell of roses and a vision of a friend buoyed one's faith during times of hopelessness and helplessness

The story of how a news assignment in Kosovo, a Sunday morning worship service during the summer Olympics in Australia, and the joy of singing in a church choir helped one reporter gain perspective on what was really important in life

A newspaper columnist explaining how his image of God as heavenly Father became real as he recalled his own father's gentleness and his own journey as a parent trying to care for a son who was ill

A foreign journalist discussing the loneliness of being thousands of miles from loved ones but knowing that they shared solidarity of faith through the institution of communion at a Sunday worship service

Not everyone gave us a "happy ending" story of how God had influenced in a profound way and led participants in faith down the perfect path of righteousness. One reporter told how he lost his faith one evening when he was involved in a car wreck and watched his cousin slowly die while they awaited help. Another began a personal essay this way: "I'm a lousy Christian, always have been," then delved into an analogy of how they were on a theological ledge as they tried to reconcile their faith while covering numerous stories about priests molesting children. Another discussed how her faith was altered irrevocably when a childhood friend was accidentally burned to death. But while the journeys of those struggling with their faith may have seemed less hopeful, I appreciated the fact that they were bound and determined to see the trip through to the end.

I left the table deeply filled spiritually at the end of the journalism conference, not only because I had interacted with knowledgeable professionals who shared my passion for covering religion, but because each of them had been willing to reveal a part of themselves in the process. And it reminded me of why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. I love the normal fare that we're fortunate enough to eat. But I'm usually more grateful for the opportunities for conversation with those my family had invited to the meal. Growing up, my parents often invited friends, distant relatives or others without a place to go to share Thanksgiving dinner with us. And each of them brought something to the table - via story or viewpoint - that made me glad to be part of the dialogue.

One of my favorite stories in the Bible pertains to a kid named Mephibosheth (found in 2 Samuel 9 in the Bible's Old Testament), the son of Jonathan, who was the best friend with King David when David was a kid. Jonathan's father, Saul, wanted to kill David and Jonathan protected David and helped him escape. David never forgot what Jonathan did. When David became king, he discovered that Mephibosheth was alive, went and found Mephibosheth, and invited him to the king's table to eat like one of David's sons (2 Samuel 9:11).

The New Testament also talks of a great meal that we can partake of, should we choose to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. The Bible (Revelation 3:20) says that if we open the door of our heart to Jesus we will eat with him and he with us. Images of the future Feast of the Lamb make Thanksgiving dinners pale in comparison. As for me, I'm most thankful that I'll be able to be part of the conversation. I can't wait to find out what interesting person I'll get to sit next to. If they're anything like the people I've already been blessed to share the journey with, I'm sure it'll be a meal I'll savor to the last bite.

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