THANKSGIVING LEFTOVERS

November 25, 2001     Gaithersburg Presbyterian Church

Most of last week was spent with my new grandson, Oscar.  How awesome, how wondrous is a two-month-old infant!  Here in the presence of new life believer and atheist are one in gratitude for what is recognized as a gift given.  This Believer’s cup runneth over, and thanksgivings abound, heaped up, shaken down, and spilling over!  Although the Day has past, I have plenty THANKSGIVING LEFTOVERS.  So it is, that I want to explore with you this morning this most fundamental of religious impulses—thanksgiving.

Whoever is wise, says the psalmist, will ponder these things and consider well the mercies of the Lord.

In this morning’s text from Philippians, Paul connects thanksgiving with joy and gentleness and with peace.  He grounds them all—thanksgiving, joy, gentleness, and peace—on the assurance that “the Lord is near.”

Isn’t the connection obvious once you think of it?  If you turn to God and say: Thank you for bringing close to me a love that will not let me go, for being the complete fulfillment of my very nature and my deepest desire, for providing the only and absolute rest for my restless soul—if I ponder the Lord with thanksgiving—is not joy sure to be on my mind and in my heart?  If I know the victory of goodness over evil is close; if I realize that love’s triumph over death is sure, and if I thank God for the kindly right over heartless might, will I not be moving on the way to gentleness and peace?

Hans Kung, the great German, Roman Catholic, theologian, says The divine encounter is an experience of being address in three interrelated, interdependent ways: God comes to us saying, You may, You should, and You can.  The experience of the divine then is an experience of grace, of command, and of power and empowerment.  

I’m going to take Kung’s instruction and apply it to our theme and see what we get.  We may give thanks.  We should give thanks.  And we can give thanks.

First, let us pray.  Most loving Father, who has taught us to give thanks for all things, to dread nothing but the loss of you, and to cast our cares on you who care for us.  Free us now from preoccupation with our fears and from nagging anxieties, that, with gratitude, we may see--through the clouds of this mortal sin-laden life—the light of your eternal love which you have shown to us in Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

You may give thanks.  The word “may” conveys permission, openness, and freedom.  “May” moves our spirits from dark confinement to light and space.  Thanksgiving happens in this context of grace.  It happens as we recognize the abundant generosity of God.  We are freed for gratitude.  

So it is that the instruction in Deuteronomy for bringing the first fruits of the harvest reminds us of God’s gracious act:  “He brought us out of Egypt.”  We may give thanks, we may sing for joy, because God is good, and his mercy endures forever.  The truth deserves constant reminding.  Like the marriage kiss, which we give because we love and in order to love,  we give thanks because we know God is good, and in order to build our awareness that God is good.

By our thanksgiving our whole perception of life is transformed.  Through the lens of thanksgiving we see--we create in our consciousness--a world of grace, and generosity, and goodness.  

We baptize a baby this morning.  The birth of a child is an occasion when we may recognize what a wondrous gift a new life is.  And just here, in this recognition of giftedness, is the turning point to trust and a life of faith.  What was seen as simply given is recognized as gift.

“What makes all of our living spiritual is an appreciation for life as a gift rather than a given; an understanding of life as a bittersweet sacrament to be partaken of and shared with [thanksgiving,] reverence, compassion, and, at moments of deepest communion, joy.  Forrest Church, quoted by Dan Bratton at Chautauqua, July, 1998.

Life, I realize, is something that visits my body, a transcendent loan;  I have neither initiated it nor conceived its worth and meaning.  Truly to see life so, and to incorporate that knowledge and such an attitude deeply into one’s being is one beginning of the religious life.  It means we may give thanks.

To give thanks in this world of ours is a sometimes, challenging and courageous act of faith, a daring summons of  trust, to affirm life as gracious, generous, and abundant in blessings.  Yet we may.  The old hymn of our childhood tells the story.  The poetry is simple and unsophisticated—banal really--but I find its promise and wisdom captivating.

When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,

When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,

Count your many blessings—name them one by one,

And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

So amid the conflict, whether great or small,

Do not be discouraged—God is over all;

Count your many blessings—angels will attend,

Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

How lovely and gracious it is that we may give thanks.

We should give thanks. “Should” connotes a command and conveys the idea of moral responsibility, duty—but as the command of our God, it is obligation responding to love.  It is expectation born of kindness, duty generated by divine generosity.  Thanksgiving is a duty, a right and proper attitude and action.  To fail in thanksgiving is to fail in our religious responsibility.  So the psalmist states the command:

Give thanks to the Lord for God is good, and God’s love is everlasting.

When only one of the ten lepers healed by Christ returns to give thanks, the reader is naturally and immediately indignant.  Those lepers owe thanks to Jesus for his healing.  So thanksgiving is an obligation.  We who are healed, redeemed, forgiven by him should give thanks.

Our obligation of thanksgiving is in part the obligation to remember.  I have a pin purchased in Israel that says, “Zachar”—remember.  Remembering is a fundamental element of spirituality.  Remember what God has done for us.  Remember that you were once slaves in Egypt.  Remember that you were strangers.  Remember the miracles, remember the impossibilities become possible. Remember the stories that define reality against conventional possibilities..  Remember and give thanks.  Remember that you are not alone.  Remember that you stand before the Creator of life and of possibilities.  Remember.  Remember that you were immigrants.  Give thanks.  

Christ taught us to worship and to live “in remembrance of me.”  Remember God’s wrath.  Remember that we were once “no people.”  Remember and acknowledge our lostness, our blindness, and our darkness.  Remember what Christ has open up for us and be thankful.  We should remember and give thanks.

Thanksgiving is an obligation, yes, but one that means good for us.  Thanksgiving is one of the ways we lay claim on God’s benefits.  Our gratitude grounds God’s grace in us.  Gratitude helps that grace take root in us; by gratitude God’s benefits are nurtured and cultivated.  Through gratitude God’s grace bears fruit of gentleness and peace in us.  So it is that we should give thanks.

The presentation of the first fruits of the harvest was to be accompanied by a kind of creedal statement.  “The Lord brought us out of Egypt…and brought us to this good land, a land flowing with milk and honey.”  The statement was to remind us that God is good and to revive in us that special appreciation that is the immigrant’s.

The writer of the Book of Deuteronomy warns against the temptation of wealth and the accompanying loss of gratitude.  He writes, “When you have eaten your fill [how relevant can you get?!] and your silver and gold is multiplied….  Then do not exalt yourself, forgetting the Lord your God….  Do not say to yourself, ‘My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me the victory.’”  (Dt. 8:13, 14, 17)

There is great danger in wealth.   It is a threat to thanksgiving.  The danger for gratitude is that when one can no longer remember a lesser, more precious time, all present benefits appear to be not only absolute, but also self-generated, making gratitude unnecessary, impossible, even silly.  

Brueggemann writes, “If Israel birthed in liberation and situated in covenant, forgets these memories, it will very soon start playing the old power games of Egypt, and start practicing brick quotas again in order to get ahead by the standards of the empire.  And when Israel is seduced back into those games, the option of freedom and the alternative of an egalitarian, covenantal community will be given up.”  When we cease in thanksgiving, we begin to forget God and live unto ourselves—a return to the slavery of Egypt.

There’s a fascination with money, an idolatrous lure of wealth that captivates our minds and hearts.  It becomes a kind of dedication, of worship.  “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” said Jesus.  (Matt. 6:21)

You’d think it would be satisfying, but, instead, it is addictive.  Someone once asked Rockefeller how much money it took to be happy.  “A little bit more,” he replied.

You’d think money would allow you to be more generous, but, instead,  it makes you more selfish.  “Hardness of heart” is the Biblical phrase for the resulting condition.  Every year canvassers for our Hunger Drive report the same phenomenon.  Amazed, they tell how the poorer people of Wheaton give more than the richer folks in Potomac.

You’d think that wealth would make you more secure; instead, it makes you more anxious.  Real peace comes from within; it is based in the heart.  Riches fix us on outward things “where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal.”  (Matt. 6:19)

The terrible temptation of riches is that you begin to think that having is what life is all about.  Hence comes the terrifying fear and the terrible perversion: to have nothing is to be nothing.  Ironically it’s more difficult to give thanks, and, sadly, it’s harder to believe what Rabbi Abraham Heschel put so beautifully.

Just to be

is holy.

Just to exist

is a blessing.

We should give thanks.

You  can  give thanks.  The word “can” points to power and possibility, the ability to transcend circumstances.  When we think of Paul’s admonition to give thanks for all things, many minds leap the question, How can we give thanks in the face of evil, pain, tragedy, injustice?

Saints and martyrs—and humble GPC Christians—demonstrate the possibility every day.  A neighbor friend of mine recently met Nelson Mandela at a fund-raiser for AIDS victims of Africa.  The neighbor was deeply impressed with the joy and gentleness that radiated from this simple, humble man.  This great leader was held captive for 27 years—much of that time in solitary confinement.  The frustration and anxiety of imprisonment in one room for 27 years!  The anger and depression at the best years of your life draining away!  The helplessness and hopelessness of having your life taken from you!  A person could so easily turn to despair and bitterness.  This man seeing turned to gentleness, peace, and joy!  In the worst of circumstances you can give thanks.

It happens that the neighbor who met Mandela suffers from Parkinson’s disease.  He is slowly and inexorably losing control of his body.  He could so easily turn in his ticket and give up.  Instead, he praises God every day.  Instead, he gives thanks for many blessings.  Instead, he affirms life and makes the very best of it—becoming a national leader and spokesperson for Parkinson’s sufferers.  Indeed, you can give thanks.

In the concentration camps of World War II prisoners living under exactly the same conditions reacted differently.  Famished, one prisoner would snatch that last piece of bread and race off to devour it alone.  Another prison, just as hungry, would share that last piece of bread with his fellows.  So it is that a person can preserve his freedom even in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress.  Everything can be taken from a person but one thing: the last of the human freedoms--to choose one's own attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.  The sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, not the result of camp influences alone.  Fundamentally, any a person can, even under the worst of circumstances, decide what shall become of him--mentally and spiritually.  We can give thanks.

Christ lived a completely human life, accepting the suffering and death of human existence.  He walked through the suffering of this world into resurrection gentleness and joy.  He walked through defeat into victory.  He walked through death into life.  We can choose to walk with Christ.  We can choose to give thanks.

Paul put it like this:

We boast of our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been give to us.

There is a another dimension of power in thanksgiving—it is the ability to expend oneself.  In spite of the prospect of loss, we can expend---with thanksgiving—ourselves  In spite of the cost, we can—with thanksgiving--expend ourselves.  Expending oneself is the very opposite of spending money.  Money allows us to distance ourselves from the burdens and troubles of life, and who doesn’t crave that from time to time.  But I’m talking about a whole different kind of power and pay-off.  The power to give, to involve oneself, to immerse oneself, the power to love, to live.  And that’s entirely different.

Thanksgiving lends power.  Grateful to the One who hears and knows our voice, we can overcome our selfish reluctance and expend ourselves.  Walking with the God who sees and shares the afflictions, the toil and oppression of this life, we can overcome our fearful hesitation and we can live—in the words of Thoreau, so as not, “when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Confident in our Lord who can deliver us with an outstretched arm, with power and might, we can break through our indifference, apathy, inertia, and we can love.  That is the power of thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is “a general stance toward life.”  More than a fall holiday, it is to be one’s whole life orientation.  We are to remember and give thanks.  A sign in the Sunday School room at Northwood Presbyterian Church put it this way, “Attitude is our paintbrush.  It colors all of life.”  As the old Black preachers used to put it, “We’ve got to get an attitude of gratitude.”  We are to remember and give thanks.

In consideration of the power dimension of thanksgiving, that we can give thanks, there remains to be said just a word about the biblical principle of return, the promise of replenishment.\

Proverbs put it thus:  “Some give freely, yet  grow all the richer; Others withhold…and only suffer want.”   (11:24)

Paul made the same point:  “The one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly; and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.”  (IICo. 9:6)

Jesus said it best.  “Give and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

We may give thanks.  It is our gracious act coming out of our memory and appropriation of God’s gracious action toward us.

We should give thanks—especially in our age when our prosperity tempts us to say, “My  power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth.”  And thanksgiving will open  us to new possibility and power.

What is the power associated with thanksgiving.  It is the ability to expend  ourselves, to give ourselves in love, and to experience the promise of replenishment.  “For whoever would save his life shall lose it; but whoever will lose his life for my sake, he will save it.”  (Lk. 9:24)