Why set a mile long table?
The big (long), savory, audacious goal to believe.
When I tell people we are setting a mile long table, the usual reaction is an instant smile, big eyes and some smoke and sparks as they try to compute and/or imagine a mile long table in their mind.
660, eight foot tables, end to end. 5,280 chairs.
More sparks. And then another big smile, full of wonder.
From others, I get a somewhat incredulous response with a dash of cynicism - ‘Why would you set a mile long table?’
I’m assuming there’s a critique of the ‘bigger is better’ approach to life or the mountainous weight of pulling off such a feat - both in effort and money. Perhaps they imagine we are pursuing a taste of glory in a Guinness world record (we are not) or attracting followers with a marketing stunt PT Barnum would be proud of.
I’m learning to not assume I know what’s behind their questioning. They might just be rational (something my wild idealism and vision often takes affront to!) or just cautious around anything that feels like clickbait and too sensational to be true.
Perhaps they said goodbye to the child in them so long ago, anything of whimsy or wonder simply rings hollow and empty in the face of taxes and duties and simply trying to put food on a table for five, muchless 5,280.
We are setting a mile long table because it’s what our world needs.
When we are convinced the sky is falling, a photo of humans from all walks of life eating together at a really long table might just be the one bit of evidence that the sky is intact, and beaming with a life-giving royal blue.
When we are told we are more separated than ever, and in some ways we are, a table of grandmas and teenagers, immigrants and natives, idealists and rationalists, introverts and extroverts, the haves and the have nots sitting shoulder to shoulder will tell a different story; that connection is as close as a Senegalese chicken drumstick.1
The long table tells a different story than the stories mass media is telling.
And it’s this: we are all humans, we need each other, and connection is possible.
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I remember hearing some fantastical stories about miracles, bridges across borders, a game of soccer between enemies, walls coming down, generational hate turning into a block party, and I too at one point of my life, might’ve had an incredulous response.
Incredulous - the unwillingness or inability to believe or trust.
If we don’t trust and believe connection is possible, and moving toward the other humans in our life will bring about good things, then a world of pain is a certainty.
Could our greatest sin in this moment be the unwillingness to believe and trust that just showing up (i.e. at a long table) might lead to a more connected, less isolated world?
I get it, feels quite unreasonable. But often, it’s the thing right in front of us. Like an ordinary (or extraordinary) table, either will do.
We are setting a long table because we believe - and trust - that love will win, every, single time and the majority of us just want to be heard, dignified and respected as human beings.
We are setting a long table because fear is decimated when we sit, eat and listen, and take a risk to share some of our story.
We are setting a long table because it’s what the child in all of us would do.
We are setting a long table because the table puts the humanity back in us like almost no other place can do.
We set a long table not to be recognized, but that humans might recognize there is a place we all belong.
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I’ll admit it, it’s crazy. But it’s beautiful. And when we see it with our very eyes, maybe this big, savory, audacious goal, will help all of us who might be having a hard time believing or trusting that good is possible, and it’s only a table away.
I’ll never forget my friend’s Senegalese chicken he brought to a table years ago, his Grandma’s recipe.