A caveat about this week's post: it's long and inspired by the personal essay. Before you read, please click this link and take the Community Health Survey. Our results help our communities thrive and also provide data on how we can best serve our community through our ministry at 1PC.
On and off throughout my seminary years, a group of us would get together for supper. At first, we would go out to eat, exploring a new restaurant in Louisville each week. However, this practice ended when we realized it was unsustainable for students with limited incomes like ours.
Eager to cherish our time together, we began preparing our meals. Despite our tiny kitchens, these moments let us exchange ideas for papers, envision ministry beyond school, and, for those with spouses, connect with someone outside the pressures of theological studies. The supper club fostered a stronger sense of community. Although our silverware was mismatched and our plates chipped, none of that mattered because we had each other.
By our third year, these suppers had become infrequent. We began taking on ministry gigs to gain new experiences, hone our skills, and ultimately make our resumes more appealing. What had once been weekly became occasional gatherings for birthdays or holidays. Looking back on my early seminary years, I realize how much those suppers helped me navigate the stresses of seminary life and of being in a new environment far from family and friends. Occasionally, a memory pops up on my social media, and I’m taken back to those sacred suppers, where a bunch of strangers became family and, in our own upper room way, we tasted and saw that God is good.
I enjoy sharing a good supper with others. Although I don’t do it often, it’s one of my favorite communal moments. Maybe it’s the cozy feeling of bumping elbows with the person next to me, or the sense of belonging when someone asks, “Can you pass the potatoes?" Perhaps it's also about challenging a society that prioritizes online connection, leaving little time to dine together for a couple of hours as the world keeps turning. No TV. In a perfect setting, no cell phones turned face down on the table. Endless beverages and conversations. And, of course, vinyl spinning in the background.
The reign of God is like …
I recently read an article about the decline of people throwing supper parties. It isn’t just supper parties – it’s socializing in general. I’ll link the article here because the data is fascinating. The data I’m curious about is this statement:
Until 1975, half of Americans said they entertained guests at their home every month. Then something changed. Americans stopped throwing parties. Even more fundamental, they stopped visiting one another. From 1975 to 1998, the share of Americans who gave or attended a monthly dinner party declined by half. The share of Americans saying they never entertained people at home tripled.
And as the article notes, for those of us who bemoan organized religion’s decreased attendance, it’s not fallen nearly as quickly as hosting folxs in our homes!
The article also debunks some myths. For example, it notes that people have moved their gatherings from their homes to restaurants and bars. The data doesn’t support this, and even those in the restaurant industry are noticing more people eating alone. I’m one of them. It isn’t uncommon for me to grab a book or my headphones and head somewhere to eat. By myself. Listening to a book or a podcast. I experience this in the fitness world, too. Go to the local gym, or even the park, and you’ll find a bunch of people listening to podcasts, only to pause and ask, “Are you using this machine?” I once witnessed two people walk into each other at the park because they were both looking down at their cell phones. AT. THE. PARK!
Yes, there are exceptions. I’m sure those of you with kids often gather with fellow parents to cheer on your child at whatever event they are doing. That’s a form of socializing and community. For sure. I know of two different people who have joined a bowling league within the last three years. The article I linked above notes how running clubs have increased as well in recent years. There are exceptions. Always.
But I can’t shake the idea that we don’t host supper parties anymore. Tucked away in a box somewhere in my little house are my ‘fancy napkins,’ those plastic things that plates sit on [saucers?], and I think I have matching silverware. I couldn’t tell you the last time I hosted something where I used real plates or didn’t involve watching Netflix or sharing funny memes from our phones. [Yes, this is a way we connect now. I get it.] I guess the nostalgia of my grandparents hosting friends gets the better of me when I think about how digital we’ve become.
The decline of supper parties is a complex topic. Far too complex for this meandering personal essay, but it is one I want to revisit. I love hosting. I love being intentional with people over dining experiences, preferably without the day's distractions. I’m not so naive as to ignore how different things are now from what they were fifty, sixty, or eighty years ago. I get it. And as much as I don’t mind being alone, I guess I still worry about outsourcing relationships. As a person of faith, I believe embodiment makes love real. Eating together is a spiritual practice. Jesus gave us the Lord’s Supper at, you guessed it, his last supper.
Maybe that’s it for me. Supper parties are an opportunity to encounter the real us. Where we can be together, separated only by the table in front of us. Maybe I am naive, but I value how the supper party invites a sense of slowness and pushes back against the rush we often experience and accept as normal. I also value how supper parties, from what I remember from seminary, created a community where we all felt supported. In a day and age where technology gets better, the digital world gets bigger, and our social lives get smaller, I want to witness and experience love incarnate.
I understand the other side of this. In seminary, our lives were quite limited. We were students with predictable schedules and available time, even if we lacked money. But as I mentioned, that changed when ‘the real world' started knocking. Today, it’s easier to create a ‘group chat’ and connect that way than to coordinate schedules for a meal, let alone all the steps that go into hosting a dinner party. I’d love to invite people over, but I realize many don’t like Dogs. I’d love to host folxs for a supper party, but my table seats four, and my dinnerware- I’ve had it for nearly twenty years now. My house is lived in, and nothing about it is ‘museum-esque.’ But Brigid, Tecumseh, and I would love to have you over … just give me a few days to straighten up!
Dear reader, if you've made it this far, congratulations! I don't have a profound conclusion or sage advice on reviving supper parties. This post was probably an attempt to evoke nostalgia, recalling my seminary days and the fullness those memories still bring. I hope it also reminds us that love can’t be outsourced—a lesson from the latest “This Jungian Life” podcast. Love is a verb as much as it is a noun. It is the core of life, the energy that binds everything together.
We are more than the three bubbles that appear when we text. We are more than the algorithms we create. We are deeply connected. I want to throw a supper party so we can bear witness to the parts of our lives, creating a space where the True Self can emerge – something Claude will never be able to do for you.
I don’t know how to end this without acknowledging my curiosity about your experience with supper parties. Do you host parties where the primary focus is eating together? If not, what gets in the way? What’s one of your favorite memories from a supper party you attended over the years? Wouldn’t these be fun to discuss … over supper sometime?
Finally, as socialization declines, there are many ways to stay engaged in our community. For example, the Lincoln Public Library hosts its annual 1902 Club, an event that brings music, food, and community spirit together in lively ways! This year, it's on Saturday, October 24. Of course, the Saturday before, October 17, we are throwing our annual Halloween Party in the parking lot with games, fire pits for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, and a dunk tank to raise awareness of food insecurity in Lincoln and Logan County.
Those supper parties from my seminary days bring me so much joy when I think back on them. I cherish how effortlessly community comes together, and I truly enjoy opening my home to others. The connections formed when we welcome people in are like the mana I need—sharing stories nourishes my soul, and love is the best meal we can ever share together.
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