Tables, Tastes, Time, and Travels

We attended a conference last week. The theme was “Many Dishes, One Table - Hosted by God.”

The conversations around our tables were both interesting and challenging. I will not go into the details here, but much of the discussion centred on enlarging our tables to include people with different backgrounds, preferences, and perspectives. At one point, someone asked whether we could do more than expand our tables. Could we also enlarge our kitchens?

That question made me smile.

I have tried the kitchen experiment many times, and it rarely ends well. People who regularly use a kitchen have their own systems and rhythms. I tend to be a creator of chaos and a disruptor of tastes. The general consensus is that I should stay away unless absolutely needed, sparing someone else the task of cleaning up after me. And taste was a bit complex too.

Yet the question stayed with me.

It led me to realise that, when it comes to hospitality, I carry my own unspoken criteria. There are people whom I welcome freely, giving them unlimited time and space. There are others whom I am happy to host, but within certain boundaries. And then there are some whom, if I am honest, I would rather not have at my table at all.

Much of this has to do with taste. I find it easier to welcome those whose differences I find interesting than those whose differences unsettle me.

But another thought followed. The people I most enjoy being with are never restricted by the clock. Time somehow expands around them.

As an African proverb puts it, “You have the clock; we have the time.” In such company, clocks lose their importance. Conversation flows, stories wander, and time becomes abundant.

With others, however, I become conscious of schedules. Doors are only partly open, and the clock keeps ticking in the background.

The idea of time itself is fascinating. 

In India, we joke about our famously flexible IST. (Indian Stretchable Time). In many northern countries, time seems carved in stone, measured carefully and guarded closely. I once heard someone say, “Time is money. We cannot waste it on useless things or people.”

But who decides what is useful? And who decides who is worth our time?

Perhaps the problem is that we often see life as a series of milestones to reach, mountains to climb, and goals to accomplish. And so need to protect our time in this endeavor. 

What if life is less a race and more a journey? What if it is about fellow travellers sharing the road together? What if our tables remain open to those we meet along the way, and even our kitchens, when the rightful stewards permit it? 

We might discover unfamiliar cuisines, unexpected friendships, and ways of seeing the world that stretch both our tastes and our horizons. And perhaps we may discover that time itself becomes more generous.

After all, my time is not really mine. It is held in God’s hands. Good stewardship may not simply be about managing time efficiently, but about offering it generously. It may mean enlarging the table, widening our tastes, and welcoming fellow travellers into the journey of life.

So, my table should grow larger, the clock become less important, and tastes slowly expand. The kitchen, however, must remain under close supervision. Some boundaries, it seems, were established by God Himself for the protection of humanity. And make travel less complicated.