Is there room in your life for "one more" for the least, the lost, the lonely, the leper, the "other"?

When a national day of thanksgiving was established on the fourth Thursday in November, it was not because the fourth Thursday in November was a particularly thankful day. It was intentionally chosen precisely because of its arbitrariness to remind us to say "thanks" on a daily basis for the bounties God has heaped upon our lives.

For Christians, every Sunday is a Thanksgiving feast day. Every Sunday at worship, we give thanks for the greatest event ever to hit planet Earth, the greatest "opening" in human history the open tomb, testifying to the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Every Sunday is Thanksgiving Sunday. Every Sunday dinner is Thanksgiving dinner.

It used to be that "Sunday dinner" was a really big deal. In Sabbath-observant, church-going families, Sunday was the one day the family planned to spend together first at church, then at home, then with relatives. With a full house and expectant stomachs, Sunday dinner was a meal guaranteed to offer the magic combination of old favorites and once-a-week specialties. Every family had its own Sunday dinner traditions: fried chicken, pot roast, plates of pasta, etc. Sunday dinner was usually the time when you could count on your ethnicity showing up on a plate.

Along with the Sunday dinner, there has also been in some families another standard at this Thanksgiving feast an empty chair. In the West Virginia hills from whence come my roots, that empty chair stood ready to be filled or to be gazed on as a reminder that no matter how many were already present, there was always room for one more. Even if there wasn't physically an "empty chair," there was an extra plate and extra portions in case an unexpected visitor showed up.

The tradition of the empty chair is also a fixture at the greatest Jewish thanksgiving feast of the year the Passover seder. An empty chair at the seder table and a front door left slightly ajar, symbolically welcomed Elijah to join in the feast.

Yet, as families have moved geographically farther and farther apart, it has become increasingly difficult for everyone to "gather at Grandma's" on the big Turkey Day. As families have moved emotionally farther and farther apart through divorce, remarriages and different lifestyles, it seems like a better choice to maintain a safe distance from one another.

No matter how Thanksgiving is celebrated, no matter how many are hosted at the holiday feast, the tradition of the empty, expectant chair commends itself for our consideration if not physically, then at least spiritually.

Fortunately, our national Thanksgiving Day is somewhat less commercialized than other annually commemorated celebrations. However, the holiday itself is becoming a kind of great divide separating our American culture of the "haves" from the "have nots." For the "haves," Thanksgiving is the starting gun for the first frenetic round of holiday shopping.

As we giddily "hit the malls," it seems that overindulgence in turkey isn't the only consuming binge marked by Thanksgiving. Isn't this weekend the biggest shopping weekend, with the biggest sales, in your community?

Those who "have" even more to splurge celebrate this long Thanksgiving weekend as time for the first skiing vacation of the winter, and with enough time and enough money, we can find snow somewhere.

For the "have nots," Thanksgiving marks a new beginning as well. In the "have-not" culture, Thanksgiving is the first disappointment of the upcoming holiday season. For the lucky ones, it's a paper plate meal served cafeteria-style at a church or mission. The food is nourishing, the spirit welcoming. But it is surely not the Thanksgiving of anyone's dreams. One of the most disappointing things about the "have-not" Thanks-
giving is there are no leftovers no left-over goodies to nibble on, no leftover family members to spend the long weekend with, no leftover feelings of security that a "have" Thanksgiving leaves in its wake.

Sadly, one of the greatest growth indicators in America seems to be the burgeoning of its underclasses those with the severest cases of the "have-nots." True, there are those growing richer than rich, stockpiling millions the way the rest of us stockpile cans for recycling. But there are also far more who are so desperately poor, so utterly destitute, that even the barest essentials for existence are beyond their grasp. The only thing equitable about this division is that it seems to cross all ethnic and racial lines. In both black and white America, a small but growing percentage of the population is amassing fortunes, while a small but ever-growing number is amassing misery. There are a few more Michael Jordans and Bill Gates. But there are many more abandoned babies with AIDS, homeless 12-year-olds, extended families of 20 crammed into one-room apartments, elderly men and women trying to choose between medication and food.

This great capitalist nation upon which God has blessed such bounty is failing to provide the minimal means for survival to an ever-growing segment of our population. Even Adam Smith would be shocked at the way the government has abnegated responsibility for meeting the most basic needs of the poor.

Where are our empty chairs? Where are our extra portions?

When did we decide to shut our hearts and find there is no more love to give, no more bounty to share, no more fellowship to extend?

Why is it we can find room for one more holiday party? . . . room for one more piece of turkey? . . . room for one more car in the mall parking lot? . . . room for one more present hidden in the hall closet? . . . room for one more charge on the credit card? . . . room for one more blouse or shirt?

What will it take to get us to make room for . . . one more name on our "need to visit" list? . . . one more personal note jotted on a Christmas card? . . . one more hour of volunteer work at a mission? . . . one more person in our hearts?