Grace

Eating is a sacrament. The grace we say clears our hearts and guides the children and welcomes the guest, all at the same time.
— Gary Snyder, "Grace"

Grace is a short prayer said at mealtime, a blessing and thanksgiving occasioned by eating. It's a personal ritual, but it's also a cultural pattern, a small act of considerable significance.

Grace is an ecological act, a way of situating our food not just on the cafeteria tray, but in the cosmos. It's a way of acknowledging the connectedness of things, the interdependence of the planet and its peoples. A good grace acknowledges the giftedness of the universe, the contingency of human existence, and the sheer joy of being alive. It's a way of acknowledging the miraculous nature of everyday life. We say grace at meals, but we experience grace all day long.

A meal is a good time for grace, because a meal is at least potentially a time for transformations. It's where sunshine becomes sustenance, where the free gift of photosynthesis comes home. It's where nature becomes culture, and where eating can become dining-and communion. Eating is often a social practice, but it can also be a spiritual practice. Grace is thanks for nourishment. But it can also be nourishment for soul and society. Even when it's private, it's a practice of commitment, a habit of the heart that keeps our head and heart and hands in the whole web of life.

Grace is also a sign of human interdependence. We depend on natural processes that we don't entirely control-like photosynthesis and good weather and good health. And we depend on plenty of people we never see. We don't all farm, but we do all eat. We don't all make clothes, but we do wear them. We don't all make music, but we can love it. We each have gifts we can give, and grace is an occasion for remembering what we do share with each other, and what we ought to share with each other.

In many graces, we ask God's blessing for good food and good company. And in the best of circumstances, we bestow our blessing too. These days, we often forget that people can both bless each other and be a blessing to each other. Such blessing is something Americans don't do much any more, except when we sneeze. But it's nothing to sneeze at. A good blessing is a way of letting the holy fill some of the holes of our lives. It's a way of seeing the sacred in our day-to-day reality, and of paying attention to the things that really make "the good life" good. When we stop blessing our food, our families, our friends-and even our enemies-we make everything mundane.