What the dying too often realize too late, what the dead try to speak back to us from across the river, is that a bowl of cherries passed and received, scrambled eggs cooked for and eaten with someone we love “is everything”, is sacramental, is holy communion, is the touch of love. We don’t go to a church and gather around The Table of New Life because that table alone is holy, nor because that exchange of life and love in the form of bread and wine can only happen there. We go to be reminded that all tables are holy if we pay attention and consecrate them with love and humanity and reverence. All the tables around which we gather with partners, families, friends, classmates, work colleagues, and strangers are potentially sacred meals if we are present and grateful and aware. The Jewish philosopher Martin Buber said “One eats in holiness and the table becomes an altar.”