More than a Meaningless Ritual?

I grew up in a simpler place and time. We did not need Facebook, Twitter, Messaging or the Internet to connect – we had family and a broader community where people had time for one another, to stop and talk and listen. When we did get the telephone it was closely monitored to make sure it was not used unnecessarily. Phone calls were a cost that had to be controlled.

Dad was a farmer whose formal education ended when he left primary school. Mum did three years high school. Our connection to the outside world was through the Newspaper – the Grafton Daily Examiner which had a few stories of world, national and state importance but was primarily a local paper – the radio and eventually television. So we were largely unconcerned with what happened outside our small community.

We went to Church, as did most of our neighbours, when it was our turn. The Palmers Channel public hall had been built to cater for the Protestants in the area, with a different denomination attending on each Sunday of the month. Faithful Catholics were forced to travel to Maclean or Yamba.

God was a given. There was no debate about whether or not He existed. People – or at least most people – married young, no one lived together before they got married, and there was probably nothing on the planet much lower than an unmarried pregnant woman. And if you were Protestant, more likely than not you voted for what was then the Country (now National) Party and Catholics voted Labor.

We always ate together as a family and, before a knife or fork was lifted we would say grace. I can still remember Dad: ‘For these and all other mercies may the Lord make us truly thankful, Amen’. I can’t recall ever pausing to reflect on what those words might mean and I wonder if anyone else ever did. It was just part of the family ritual.

As I moved out into the big bad world I came in contact with people who didn’t go to Church and when I was invited into their homes they didn’t say grace. Mind you, by this time I had largely given up on Church attendance, but I always felt uncomfortable when grace wasn’t said for no other reason than it was a signal to start eating. It is a discomfort that remains to this day.

As I returned to faith so I returned to saying grace. The words may have changed: ‘Thank you Lord for this good food, bless it to our needs, Amen’. Or perhaps; ‘Thank you Lord for this good food and the hands that have prepared it. May it make us strong that we can serve you, Amen.’ But I wonder if anyone gives those words any more thought than I did as a kid.

It dawned on me one day that for me it was nothing other than a meaningless ritual. Simply rattled off without any thought so that I could get my knife and fork into that appetising – or perhaps not so appetising - plate in front of me. Actually, I tell a little lie. There have been times when I have wondered about asking God to bless us and give us health to serve Him when I know that most, if not all, of what has been prepared fails every good nutrition test known to human kind – but that is another story.

As I thought about it I realised what it really meant to give thanks. Of course there is the sun and the rain, the soil and the seed, and the miracle of life. But it’s much more, especially for those who live far removed from the site of production.

The farmer is a given, but what about the agricultural scientist, the truck driver that takes the produce from the farm gate to market. Then we can add on the process worker in the canning factory, the electricity worker that supplies the energy for food production, the miner, warehouse workers, those that pack the shelves in the supermarket and the check-out chick. If it were not for these and a myriad of others I could not do the things I do and live the lifestyle I have chosen.

I am part of a community and I depend on the community for life. We are interdependent and the quality of life we enjoy is dependent on others. So when I give thanks for the meal in front of me, regardless of how simple it may be, I am not only giving thanks to God, the life-giver, but for the community He has placed me in. And that acknowledgement that I am dependent upon others should create in me a sense of reciprocity – that of giving back to my community. For the health of the community is dependent upon the willingness of all to give and a recognition that we should take nothing for granted.