Before We Gather Around the Table

There will be food on the table again this coming week. There will be conversations. Laughter. Familiar faces. Perhaps a few chairs pulled in from another room because somehow there are never quite enough.

But first, there is a pause.

Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) is here.

A time that calls us away from the usual rhythms of life and gives us space to turn our attention back to Yah / Abba. And as I've been thinking about that, I've found myself thinking about what happens after the pause.

When we return to our tables. When ordinary life begins again.

Because we don't only arrive at the table carrying food. We bring the things nobody else can see. The conversation that didn't end well. The words we wish we hadn't said. The apology we've been meaning to make. The person we've avoided. The hurt we've quietly carried for much longer than we intended. We bring all of it with us.

And sometimes we can sit across a table from someone, pass them the bread, ask about their week and still carry something between us that has never really been put down.

Forgiveness is difficult like that. It's easy to talk about until there is actually something to forgive. When the wound is ours. When the words were unfair. When someone should have known better. When we were right. And perhaps even harder......when we are the one who needs to ask for forgiveness.

There is something humbling about saying,

"I was wrong."

"I shouldn't have said that."

"I hurt you."

"Will you forgive me?"

No explanation attached.

No, 'but you also...'

Just humility.

Scripture speaks so often about forgiveness and reconciliation, and I don't think that's because Yah / Abba expects relationships to be easy. Perhaps it's because He knows us. Families misunderstand one another. Friends disappoint each other. People say things they regret. We get tired. We become defensive. We hold onto things.

And yet, again and again, we are called back to forgiveness.

Not because what happened didn't matter. Not because hurt should be ignored. And not because forgiveness always means a relationship immediately returns to what it was before.

But because bitterness was never meant to become something we make a home for. Maybe that is part of the gift of Yom Kippur, the fasting, the stillness and the space to examine what we have been carrying. Space to become quiet enough to notice. Without the usual distractions. Without rushing onto the next thing.

Just the opportunity to come before Abba and ask:

'Is there anything in my heart that I need to deal with?'

That can be an uncomfortable question. But perhaps, it is also a freeing one. Because eventually, we return to the table. There is a reason the table appears so often throughout Scripture. A table requires us to face one another. You cannot gather without making room. You cannot break bread without passing something from one hand to another. You cannot truly share a table while pretending the people around it don't matter.

Maybe that is part of the beauty of gathering.

The table has a way of reminding us that life was never meant to be lived alone.

At Tuvia, our Gather pillar carries a very simple line:

We gather around the table.

I've always loved those words. But perhaps gathering isn't only about inviting people in. Sometimes it means doing the quiet work that allows us to return to the table differently. Making the phone call. Having the hard conversation. Offering the apology. Choosing not to rehearse the offence one more time. Praying for a heart that is willing to forgive, even when the feelings haven't quite caught up yet.

With Yom Kippur here, perhaps our preparation doesn't need to be about what we are going to do. Perhaps it can simply begin with what we are willing to lay down. The resentment. The pride. The need to be right. The conversation we've been avoiding. The hurt we've carried for too long.

Maybe there is someone whose name came to mind while reading this. Maybe there are words that need to be spoken. Or perhaps there is simply something that needs to be placed into Abba's hands because we've carried it long enough.

And then, when the fast has ended and the ordinary rhythms of home begin again, perhaps we return to our tables a little lighter. Not as perfect people. Thankfully. Just as people who have made a little more room for grace.

And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful ways we can prepare to gather again.

A Question to Reflect On...

As you pause this Yom Kippur, what might Abba be asking you to lay down before you return to the table?