Tonight begins the Festival of Lights or Chanukah, the Jewish celebration of the rededication of the second Temple at the time of the Maccabean revolt in the 2nd century BCE. Compared to the Festival of Lights, our family’s recent gathering, which we called the “Festival of Stuffed Things,” sounds much less spiritual and much more gluttonous, doesn’t it?
There is no doubt that we ate well; after all, that’s what families tend to do very well together. Everyone enthusiastically brought something stuffed with some sort of filling, whether it was stuffed roast pork, or stuffed mushrooms brought on the train from Philly, or crescents stuffed with strawberries that were hand-picked in the Cumberland Valley last June.
The Festival of Lights is about the renewing of the Temple. The Festival of Stuffed Things, on the other hand, was really about the renewing of family ties. The 1950’s Miller family of 5 in Blacksburg, Virginia, has expanded to 21 as families are wont to do. It has now become four generations although only some of the younger three generations could be at this gathering. Three generations of children have inherited their parents’ independent streak and so, spreading their wings, they are now found in New Mexico, Colorado, North Chicago (that qualifies as its own state), Pennsylvania and Vermont. The family is about to spread out even farther, and so the 13 of the 21 who live the closest together juggled schedules and converged in Lancaster County with all their stuffed things to eat.
Here’s what I loved about the time as I munched and listened and watched. Two artist cousins seated at the end of the table, planning a joint project with their sketch books open. The baby grinning at his great-aunt for the first time. The two-year old playing an apparently hilarious game of ball with her cousin (in-law-once-removed?). A new mother settled in an arm chair, writing a note to be sent to those who were absent. An aunt texting a greeting to a niece 400 miles to the north. The women’s huddle around the counter discussing recipes. The living room conversations about new directions on life’s horizon.
This gathering was its own informal festival of lights for me: I looked around at all the faces and saw how God’s presence has been guiding and lighting each one since I had last seen them. Many have been through painfully challenging times. Some have taken steps that demanded courage and daily trust in God. Some are seeking new avenues of reaching out and serving their communities. Others are using talents in new ways. Some are making new commitments in relationships. Some are moving into new jobs. Everyone in that room is growing and changing, each in his or her own way and stage of life, all as followers of Christ in an uncertain world. I suppose we have inherited our love of God from our original Blacksburg parents who, I’m sure, were even praying that evening, as they always do, across the miles that separate us.
I left the gathering stuffed—not with the delicious food—but full to bursting with a renewed gratefulness. God has placed me in a family of amazing people of faithfulness and frailties, love and adventure, people with whom I’ve been called to share family life and its festivals.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, it is time for some leftovers…Thai peanut stuffed sweet potatoes. 🙂
Leave a Reply