Doyce has a reminiscing post today about grace before meals, citing Bigwig‘s post on the same topic. So why not weigh in myself?
Grace, for me growing up, was an exceptional thing, by which I mean it was the exception rather than the rule. We’d say grace at big family dinners on holidays — Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. It was part of the pomp and circumstance of such meals, alongside the good china and the silverware.
In recent years, I note that my parents say grace before every meal. Or at least every meal that I’m at with them (which may mean something different altogether).
I’ve tended to try and follow that earlier example, though (plus doing it at meals when my folks are visiting). It’s tough, both because such big meals tend to somewhat chaotic affairs, and so remembering that one extra item is difficult, and because we often as not have folks over for such meals whose religious tastes or affiliation are not the same as ours, and thus might feel uncomfortable with the whole Saying Grace thang.
Which brings me to Dave’s Philosophy of Prayer. Bigwig asks, rightly, whether God “sweats the little stuff,” i.e., cares whether we pray before meals. And I’d have to answer, in terms of “Will lightning fork down from the heavens and fry the turkey if we don’t pray over it?” that clearly the answer is “No.” Indeed, I opine that God doesn’t care about prayer in terms of needing it, or wanting it for its own sake.
Prayer’s use, in my own philosophy (or theology, I suppose) is not to the prayee, but to the prayer, the person saying the words. It’s an opportunity to remember that connection between God and Man, to remember things we are thankful for (but may not have articulated, even to ourselves) and things we are in need of (ditto). It’s a reestablishing, a reminder of that link, even if it’s brief, formulaic, and unilateral, not unlike sending a Christmas card to an old friend.
The words may be rote, to the point of meaninglessness, but, in a sense, they remain useful because they are making time, even a few moments, for God. The words matter less than the sentiment, the intent, the act. (And to the extent that they become rote, they become meditative as well.)
The common Episcopal grace I’ve learned is, Bless, O Lord, Thy gifts to our use and us to Thy service. Not a bad prayer, at that. Maybe something I ought to say more often.
As a kid, our family grace was similar to yours in frequency. During high school I was intensely religious and for a couple of years in my later teens, my family indulged me by saying grace at dinner. But when I left the church (R.C.), I stopped and they stopped. Now at family dinners, out of respect for the agnostics and atheists among us, we’ll have a toast instead.
Recently I began feeling a push to do something at dinner which would help me slow down, become more mindful, and appreciate the food and the act of eating. My boyfriend was raised Unitarian Universalist and is atheist, and he was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of saying grace. Even one that was simply, “Let us be grateful for the earth and all the hands that have provided us with this abundance.” So our compromise is that I light a candle as we sit down, each of us with our own thoughts of appreciation.
I’ve been thinking lately of that word, “grace.” The sound of the word implies the meaning. I’ve been needing a bit of that in my life (at work especially) of late, and at the most surprising moments I am given a bit of it. (This comment has gotten long… Sorry about that. I think I may also post this on my own blog).
I find some of my best blog entries start as comments on someone else’s blog.