The two women who taught me the most about hospitality know how to make more space at the table. My mother and my mother-in-law both have a gift for making a warm, welcoming home where there is always room for one more.
When I remember Thanksgivings past, my favorite memories come from the years when my older siblings were in college and brought friends home for the holidays, filling our house with laughter and energy. Looking back now as a mother of many myself, I’m floored to think how easily my mom could change her holiday plans with a moment’s notice, adding another chair (or four) to the table. She never made anyone feel like they were a burden: you belonged with us.
When I learned how my in-laws celebrated holidays, I was struck by two facts: my mother-in-law often insisted that everyone should sit at one long table (so no one felt left out), and she always invited folks outside the family to join us for holidays.
Over the years, I sat next to seminarians from Nigeria, neighbors from Egypt, families from Colombia and friends from nearby who simply needed a place to spend a day when no one should be alone.
Taken together, these two matriarchs taught me everything about hosting holidays. Cast a wide net, like Christ did. Trust there will always be enough — food, space, patience and laughter. Notice who’s not there and make space for them.
As the holidays approach, it’s time to think about those who will join us for our feasts but also those who won’t be at the table. In November we pray for our beloved dead, so naturally our thoughts turn to those who are no longer with us physically. But in our communities, there are also countless folks whose circumstances have been dramatically ruptured in the past year — by divorce, diagnosis, economic crisis or political divisions. Can we make space in our prayers or a place at our table for those who are suffering deeply in this season?
In the Gospels Jesus calls us to expand our circles of concern and compassion, not limiting our definition of neighbor to family and friends but always urging us to include others. Feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, care for the sick, visit the imprisoned: these are the terms by which we will be judged (Mt 25:31-46).
Our children and grandchildren will also be formed and shaped by our own practices of Christian care and hospitality, both for those we love and those we barely know. How might Christ be nudging you to welcome someone for the holidays or to pray for those who are struggling?
Once we notice who’s missing from our tables, we can do one of two things. We can widen our welcome, or we can keep in mind those who aren’t there.
First, we can pull up another chair up to the table to make more space. Is there a neighbor who doesn’t have family nearby? Are there new immigrants in your parish or co-workers in your office who might not have a place to celebrate the holidays? Take a Christ-like leap and reach out with an invitation. What a powerful example to set for the kids in your life — to show them that your family is always ready to welcome (even the stranger who might be Christ in disguise).
Second, we can make time and space within our holiday gatherings to remember those who are absent. A candle at the table for each loved one who has died. A phone call to a family member deployed overseas. A time during your mealtime grace to pray by name for all those who are missed or mourned at this joyful time.
Above all else, let us welcome strangers in our prayers as we start the season when we remember the Holy Family who were turned away in their hour of need: God, help us to see who’s missing and help us to make more space for all those you call us to love.
Laura Kelly Fanucci is an author, speaker and founder of Mothering Spirit, an online gathering place on parenting and spirituality.
