This day should be one of mutual respect among the various communities of faith and those who are outside them. Thanks for life. Thanks for love. Thanks for this fragile earth, our common home.

Whom to thank? To answer that goes to the heart of a free people in a free land, to the freedom of every human being to ask the deepest questions about the origins and meaning of life. Or not to ask. Maybe that’s a gift in a time when religious debate can be intemperate.

When you come down to it, our national tradition is to come together for a meal. A friend, whose mood brightened this week, put it this way: “I love Thanksgiving. It’s all about thanks, not running around and buying gifts. Just breaking bread together, with thanks.”

For me as a Christian, it’s all of that, but more. Before I sit down with family and friends, I’ll be at the holy table in church, doing what the vast majority of Christians do at the center of our worship life. I’ll be at the Eucharist, a word we take from the ancient Greek for “to give thanks.” For us, it’s a glorious, multi-layered mystery. It takes us back to the table of Jesus’ last supper, to the Passover, and to the specific saving and loving acts of God in creation. I’ll give thanks that I live where I can give thanks in that way, knowing that my way doesn’t exhaust the way thanksgiving carries meaning for others.

Maybe someday, we’ll give thanks there is really just one Thanksgiving table, and all are welcome.