Canadian Thanksgiving - Women and Ritual

A couple of weeks ago I spoke about women's role in ritual. At the time, I did so is a cursory way, and, as it is Canadian Thanksgiving, I'd like to unpack this idea a bit more. Holidays can be emotionally loaded and are wrought with ambiguous feelings. We come together in the act of thankfulness. However, these times are often filled with conflict about our relationships, reminding us of past (or current) disappointments and loss. Margaret Visser wrote in The Rituals of Dinner, "Nothing so unites us as gathering with one mind to murder someone we hate, unless it is to come together to share a meal". I imagine it was just such a traditional celebration that she was referring to!


Our daily lives are rushed now and it is more common for families to miss sitting together for a meal. Rarely do we take the time to cook - choosing rather to eat fast food or produce that is mass produced, or food that is partly prepared that we buy at the shops. We then race home to heat it up and present it as a meal. But the ritual of cooking is an art. It demands time, thought and consideration for those who are going to eat with us. As I prepare the dinner for Thanksgiving, I think immediately of this ritual as an act performed by women contributing to peace building and community healing. The woman cooking a meal to share with her community is embedded in history and a way in which women nurtured their families and their communities. Tradition is really a reflection, or a reminder, of that part of ourselves, or our community, that we admire. In fact, whenever groups of people come together, one of the essential elements to build community is the act of preparing and sharing of food.

I peel the potatoes, carefully calculating that there will be enough leftovers to give to a friend and her children who can't join us this evening. I prepare and stuff the turkey lovingly, wrapping it in cheesecloth so the breast won't burn and it will stay moist through its long slow cooking. I methodically set the dinner table in a way I've done for years - and as my mother and grandmother did - ironing the table cloth, and placing the cutlery, candles, glasses and gourds carefully in its place - the plates will be added later once the food is served. I consider the aesthetics, hoping that every sense is pleasantly stimulated. Slowly the flat is enveloped with the smells of cooking turkey, baked squash and burning candles. I've no fire to set this year but I will make up for this by lighting the room with about 30 candles to give off a warmth that is evocative of a fire. My friend is cooking dessert - made from scratch - as a contribution to the evening (also he knows I'm not a baker). Everything I do is done with a remembrance of past celebrations - some more peaceful than others.

I'm dining with my friends and my father who will turn 89 in a couple of days and I am thankful. All that I do today is a ritual to express my gratitude for having family, food and a warm place to live. So many are without all of that and those who are surrounded by family may actually spend the day trying to find ways to mediate their difficult relationships. Those without family will hopefully be surrounded by friends or, as offered by the Toronto Daily Food Bank, take part in the community ritual of sharing a meal with a new people. I see this ritual art of cooking as being one role in which women build community!

Canadian Thanksgiving                                                                        

For Genevieve Macaulay and Jeffrey Smith

Earth leans away from autumn sun

and winter chills have just begun

to colour leaves before they die.

How their brief flame delights the eye

while the green life sinks under earth

to sleep secure till spring’s rebirth!

Virgo at last is gone to bed

with Libra wheeling overhead

and Scorpio waiting in the wings

whose tail is barbed with winter’s stings.

The Hummingbirds were swift to go,

fuelled from flowers, to Mexico,

the Redtail hawks on stronger wings

fly south in search of better things.

Rising from Lake Ontario

fogs presage months of ice and snow.

Weighing these losses, there’s good reason

to mourn a melancholy season.

Yet this is not a time of dearth,

we have the kindly fruits of earth.

the grain and apples gathered in,

the hay is saved, the ripe pumpkin

is almost plump enough to bake

in pies, or jack-‘o- lanterns make.

And whether skies are bright or murky

we sacrifice the fatted turkey.

This rite began in Pilgrim days

with pious mien and psalms of praise.

The Yanks gave thanks on rigid knees

then fell on the Aborigines

in fierce and godly genocide,

Jehovah scowling at their side.

But we, of course, are not like that,

grateful to be just where we’re at.

and with a kinder, gentler creed,

give thanks for getting all we need.

And thank our stars for friends right here,

for laughter, love and country cheer,

good food, good wine and crystal skies,

and the brief glow as summer dies.

©Kildare Dobbs