A Place at the Table

Growing up in my family, I was not the youngest.  I was the middle child.  But when I entered the convent in 1975 at 18 years of age, I was the youngest.  I was the youngest in the religious community, almost for the whole 30 years, I remained a Sister.  Others entered the convent after me, but they were almost always chronologically older. I think that’s why I like the story of David so much. It is a classic youngest kid story.  Samuel has been appointed by God to go and anoint the new King. God tells Samuel that the King will come from among Jesse’s sons.

In the days of Samuel, seven was a highly prized number. Seven was considered the ideal number.  It signified perfection. So, when Jesse had seven sons, that was something to be exceptionally proud of in his society. But Jesse also had an eighth son, David. David was the unanticipated son, the smallest in stature, and no one expected much from him. When Samuel came to anoint the new King, Jesse thought so little of David that he left him out in the field, he was not even offered as one of Jesse’s sons.

But none of the seven sons presented to Samuel was the right one. Samuel asked Jesse if there was any other son. David was called in from the field, and alas, he was the one God had selected to be anointed as King. 

This story reminds us that we often have preconceived notions about how God works. We expect God will favor those who seem most holy, most eloquent, the healthiest, the best looking, the richest, or the most respected. That’s what Jesse thought and why he left his youngest son, David, in the field.  But Jesse was wrong, and so are we when we judge from outer appearances and not from the status of the heart. 

The judgment and dismissal of some people happens all the time in our society, and sometimes in our Church. Being discounted happens in blatant ways, but in subtle ways as well. We stop listening to someone’s voice, or we never even start listening. We dismiss them because they are too young, too new, only part-timers, too old, too poor, gay, mentally fragile…whatever it is that we can’t accept as worthy of being heard.  Slowly we push them out into the margins of our society (or our Church). We leave them out in the field.

Sometimes we even choose to leave ourselves out in the field. We must ask ourselves, “Am I out in the field, showing up in body but not with my heart?”  God wants your heart.  Our Church needs your heart. 

It is time! People out in the fields need to hear that our Church is where you are not judged on worldly things, but you are welcomed because of your loving heart. We all need to know that. The Church is not somewhere we go…it’s who we are. We are the Church, and Church is not a spectator sport. It does not just require our time; it requires our love.

The questions for us in this most beautiful parish of Sacred Heart are, “Whose voices are we missing? Who do we know who is out in the field either because they have not felt welcomed at the table or because they left the table years ago and they don’t know how to come back?”

God can do amazing things through us, just as he did through David. Our God has anointed us as His missionaries. This Lent is a time for us to go out into the fields of our lives and invite home those who have wandered away or felt pushed away by the Church.  It’s time for us to call them back. It’s time for them to come home.  

There is a place at God’s table for everyone.

In God’s love,
Gwen Coté, Pastoral Associate