43: “Perhaps the World Ends Here” by Joy Harjo
“Poetry is a nightingale that sits in the darkness and sings.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley (adapted)
Our mission at the Matthew 25 Initiative is to equip and sustain Anglicans serving alongside the vulnerable. The work of justice and mercy is often wondrous and also difficult. Holding beauty, naming pain, and contending for hope is what we do at M25i.
The "For the Soul" series gifts us poetry for a Spirit-soaked imagination that leads to prayer as we turn our hearts towards God.
Before you begin…
The end of August brings a familiar change of rhythm: backpacks by the door, sharpened pencils, earlier mornings, and the return to school. But back-to-school season does not mean the same thing for every family. For some, it means new clothes and school supplies, packed lunches and time around the table helping with homework. For others, it means the relief of knowing their children will receive breakfast and lunch at school. It means another work shift to coordinate, or another expense to somehow absorb.
Every table tells a story.
A kitchen table can become what some call a focal practice—an ordinary place around which a family builds attention, relationships, gratitude, and prayer. But creating that kind of space is easier when there is enough: enough food, enough time, enough money, enough emotional margin. It is harder when a parent is working two jobs, coming home from a double shift, stretching groceries until payday, or simply too tired to offer much more than whatever gets everyone fed.
And yet tables are not made meaningful by abundance. Families with very little have long made tables into places of prayer and laughter, hospitality and belonging—making do with what is in the cupboard and giving thanks for it all. Other families, with plenty, may still struggle to slow down and be present. There is no simple story about who gathers well.
Read this poem slowly and aloud if possible. Consider the beautiful simplicity of abundance, spiritually and relationally, regardless of means, that God offers every kitchen table.
Perhaps the World Ends Here
By Joy Harjo
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.
the Lord Almighty will prepare
a feast of rich food for all peoples,
a banquet of aged wine—
the best of meats and the finest of wines.
On this mountain he will destroy
the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears
from all faces.
Isaiah 25:6-8a, NIV
As you read this email, who comes to mind? Forward this email to a friend who finds strength at their own kitchen table, and maybe invite them to yours. We hope that they would be encouraged to see other Anglicans caring for the vulnerable and know they are not alone.
Would you speak a "yes" to this work with a gift? It would really bless us.
