A Reflection that brings Thanksgiving more fully into focus:
When Jesus speaks about Jerusalem's destruction and the terrifying signs to come, it feels strange to read on Thanksgiving Day when we're trying to focus on gratitude and togetherness. But maybe there's something here we need to hear, especially today. Jesus is talking to people who are about to lose everything they've built their lives around: their city, their temple, their sense of safety and home. And on Thanksgiving, many of us know that ache too. Some of us are separated from family by distance or disagreement, by death or circumstance. We sit at tables with empty chairs, or we sit alone wishing we could be gathered with the people we love. Christ acknowledges that longing, that loss, that deep human need for home and belonging. He doesn't dismiss it. He knows we were made for communion with one another, and when that's broken or distant, it genuinely hurts.
This is where Thanksgiving and the gospel meet in a surprising way. We give thanks today not because everything is perfect or because everyone we love is gathered around us, but because love itself is worth celebrating even when it's hard. When you pray the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary, you see Mary and Elizabeth embracing, you see the Holy Family together in Bethlehem and Nazareth, and you remember that God thinks family matters. God thinks our need for one another is so important that He entered the world as a baby who needed his mother's arms. So if you're missing someone today, if there's an empty seat that should be filled, that grief is holy. It means you've loved well. It means you understand something true about how we're meant to live: together, not alone.
Jesus tells his disciples that when these frightening things happen, they should stand up and raise their heads because their redemption is near. There's such tenderness in that image. He's not saying pretend everything is fine or ignore your fear. He's saying look up, remember what you're made for, remember who holds you. On Thanksgiving, we practice that same lifting of our heads. We look at the people around our table, or we think of the people we wish were there, and we thank God for the gift of loving them at all. Even the ache of missing someone is a kind of gratitude when you think about it. You wouldn't miss them if they hadn't blessed your life. When you pray the Sorrowful Mysteries and see Mary standing at the foot of the cross, you see a mother who would give anything to gather her son back into her arms. But even in that agony, love doesn't break. It deepens.
So today, give thanks for the people who have shaped your life, whether they're sitting next to you or far away, whether they're still here or waiting for you in eternity. Thank God for the family that raised you, the friends who became family, the strangers who showed you kindness when you needed it most. Thank God that He made us to need each other, to long for each other, to gather around tables and share our lives. And if your table feels empty today, if your heart is heavy with distance or loss, know that your longing itself is a prayer. It's you standing up and lifting your head toward the redemption Jesus promises, the day when every separation ends and every table is full. Until then, we practice thanksgiving as an act of faith, trusting that the love we feel today, even when it hurts, is preparing us for the eternal communion we were always meant for.
©2025
James Dacey, Jr., OFS
