Thanksgiving celebrations open a unique spiritual season that extends through Christmastime. I find this in the congregation where I worship and pastor, certainly, but also among my diverse friend group and wider community. The act of giving thanks is fundamental enough that common spirit can burst forth between the grieving and the joyful, the rich and poor (in the world’s eyes, or in their own eyes) or with perfect strangers. Thanks-giving can even renew our attention toward those we know well and with whom our personal curiosity has atrophied. The embracing traditions of this season lend an emotional safety that helps us be ready to grow, and grow up, in love.
It’s also a season when we’re assured of repeated invitations to turn outward to our neighbors. In movies, outside the grocery store where the Salvation Army invites our loose change, and with ubiquitous food drive baskets and signs. So at some time in your holiday conversations, a family member or friend will surely speak to you either in happy terms about some loving action taking place, or in frustration about some hurtful action. Their sharing carries an implicit invitation: “Rejoice with me!” or “Commiserate with me!” And when we listen well, we sometimes hear an additional invitation: “Help me respond to this situation with love.” “Help me see a way to participate in healing here; in reconciliation.”
When you hear that invitation in your neighbor’s words, take heart, and give your neighbor something more helpful than, “Mmm hmm,” in return. You know something beautiful and timely about joining in tangible, living healing. And they need you to share it with them.
“Yeah, you know, I’ve been joining in that joy (or responding to that pain), by making some reparations lately.”
Now, I figure the word “reparations” sets off warning bells in most people’s minds that the conversation is about to get technical, political, and grandiose. So I follow with a quick description of my personal practices, and their meaning to me, to keep the conversation at human-scale.
“I know that the land my home is on was taken at some point from Native Americans, so every year we make a payment to the Native American Rights Fund. By the time we finish paying off our 30-year mortgage, we’ll also have paid 10% of the purchase price as reparations. These payments help me keep this Thanksgiving spirit all year.”
“Or just last month I attended a workshop with Reparation Generation. They make direct reparation payments to Black Americans to help them purchase homes. I learned history and current information that helped me confidently understand how reparations can leap us forward to where Black and white Americans can stand up on equal footing. The space they gave to name brokenness with clarity and without fear, and to have it be so easy to begin repairing it, was actually refreshing and delightful. I could see this helping me keep my Thanksgiving-time attention to neighbor throughout the year.”
Those are my stories. Whatever your own reparations stories are, notice how they bring you to life. And remember that this liveliness in you can be a gift to your neighbors. You are sure to meet someone soon who is looking for just such a gift.
The Rev. Reed Loy
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Reed Loy is a priest in the Episcopal Church, pastoring a community in Hopkinton, NH. In reparations practices at the personal, communal, and church-wide level, he finds “repairing the breach” to be a foundational piece of faithful community-making, consistently leading to new life.