Sermon on the Good Shepherd

On Facebook today, Jess Rudolph of the Commedia dell'Arte troupe I Verdi Confusi observed that the female servant Mask, Colombina, is grateful that Thanksgiving is an American holiday and outside her historical period. Of course, Colombina still lives, and it was only because he was posting to the Society for Creative Anachronism that he would assert she has a "period." But someone on the thread observed that there was a pre-Advent feast before our Thanksgiving on St. Martin's Day. Similar to Carnevale before Lent, the Festa di San Martino was a chance to indulge oneself before the relative austerity of a waiting and fasting season. (Lent is waiting for Easter; Advent is waiting for Christmas.)

Here is what Wikipedia says about St. Martin: "Saint Martin of Tours was a Roman soldier who was baptised as an adult and became a bishop in a French town. The most notable of his saintly acts was he had cut his cloak in half to share with a beggar during a snowstorm, to save him from the cold as then that night, he dreamt of Jesus, wearing the half-cloak and saying to the angels, 'here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is now baptised; he has clothed me.'" Martin let himself be colder to make someone else warmer. So St. Martin's day, which actually happened on November 11, is a day about being willing to share whatever you have. (Unless what you have is a pandemic virus, in which case, please keep it to yourself.)

It's Thanksgiving, and I am not at my parents' house or my son's house. But I do have two housemates at my place to celebrate with. The butternut squash is in the oven for its first baking. It will be twice-baked in my family's time-honored manner, with nutmeg and cinnamon and plenty of butter. The duck is thawed (something special that isn't a big turkey), and housemate Kevin is in charge of stuffing and mashed potatoes. Resident baker Lauranne is on the bread and dessert. 

None of us three have any chance of getting together with our blood relatives today. Even if it weren't for the pandemic, travel is expensive. I have the nearest family, my son and his wife in Massachusetts, but the others would have to go much further south. So we will enjoy ourselves right here, in our bubble. 

Christmas will also probably be just the three of us. I don't anticipate going to either Massachusetts or Pennsylvania--where my parents and sister live--before there's a vaccine available and Mom and Dad have had it shot into their arms. What we are giving up today is the chance to be with people we love in a traditional feast, but we are giving up part of our usual joy to make other people safer, letting ourselves be a little colder for now so our loved ones can be warmer when all this is in the past.