Tuesday, October 10, 2017

What does Thanksgiving look like? (sermon from Oct 8, 2017)

Reading:  Deuteronomy 8:7-20

(The people are preparing -- and are being prepared, at long last after their escape from Egypt and the long journey with God through the wilderness, to enter the Promised Land.  Before they enter the land, they are given three basic rules: remember it is God who provides this good land and the freedom to enjoy it; do not think you have earned it, or are more entitled to it than anyone else; and remember to live in the way God desires, if you want to be able to be able to stay in the land.)

 

What does Thanksgiving look like?

I’ve heard about a few of the plans, and my guess is that most of them involve traditional full turkey dinner with desserts of pumpkin or apple pies, enjoyed around a festive, seasonally decorated table. 

Wes and Dorothy are cooking a turkey tomorrow, for however many of their clan will be in town and able to gather and celebrate the day with them.  The Durfey-Bridgman connection is gathering later today and in addition to their usual family numbers coming in from around the Bay, they have a few extra guests as well.

And I wonder what other feasts are planned?  Anyone care to share (so to speak)?

Later this afternoon, Japhia and I will be enjoying our annual Thanksgiving Sunday dinner with my sister and brother-in-law, Val and Jim, in Burlington.  Their son Sean will be in for the weekend from Ottawa.  Aaron, my son, will be joining us, and it too will be a full turkey dinner, pies for dessert included, with no doubt a bit of pumpkin ale and Ontario wine as well to help it all go down well.  Who could ask for a better Thanksgiving?

Of course, Sean’s girl-friend won’t be there; she’s stayed back in Ottawa with her family.  Aaron will be coming alone, having broken up with his girl-friend a few months ago.  Japhia knows that with her health issues she will be having only a very few of the things put out on the table, and then only small portions as well.  Plus we probably won’t be able to get together for Thanksgiving dinner this year with her kids and our grand-kids.  And I’m sure that we’ll also at some point be talking at the table about the Thanksgiving dinner that didn’t happen two years ago because Valerie was in the midst of chemo treatments.

But we’ll be there, and be happy to be there.  As we always do, as we sit down at the table and before we eat, we’ll join hands around the table and each one of us in turn will share what we feel really thankful for as we gather this year.

Because isn’t that at least one thing Thanksgiving is – in the midst of the incompleteness, brokenness and disorder we suffer, holding hands around the holes and heartaches in our life, to remember and share what we are grateful for?



What does Thanksgiving look like?

Over twenty years ago while I was serving as ecumenical chaplain at McMaster and Japhia worked in the chaplaincy office, Thanksgiving every year was a dinner that the chaplaincy team and a whole bunch of volunteers from the campus and from local congregations put on for international students at the university.  On the Thursday night before the long weekend, up to 10 or 12 big turkeys would be cooked and carved by volunteers, a full traditional Thanksgiving dinner of mashed potatoes, stuffing, veggies and cranberry sauce would be prepared, apple cider and pies would be carted in, and a few hundred students from all around the world – far from their own homes, strangers to the culture and customs of their temporary new home, would be seated and served the best we could offer of Canadian family Thanksgiving.

Then after dinner they would share with us – putting on a cultural show of music, dance and art from where they came from – giving us a taste of the best of what they could offer of their culture and customs.

Thanksgiving looks like that as well – people reaching across divides and barriers, across loneliness and isolation; sharing with others – with strangers, the best of what they are as family; letting others – letting strangers share with them; and in the process becoming an even larger, new kind of family, grateful for the blessings of shared life together.



What does Thanksgiving look like?

One Thanksgiving – again while Japhia and I were still at the chaplaincy centre, and I was living more or less alone in the manse – in the midst of struggling not too well to create a post-separation life, at Japhia’s encouragement I invited a handful of students who were likewise a bit adrift and disconnected from family over the holiday, to come for Thanksgiving dinner at the chaplaincy manse.  I think the idea may have been inspired by Anne Tyler’s novel Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant – where a motley bunch of lonely and cast-off strangers sharing a meal together around a restaurant table becomes an image of communion and a feast of God’s kingdom. 

At least it sounded a bit like it, when we planned it.  And for a while when we first sat down, it kind of almost felt like it too.

Except the cook (me) was not too experienced in cooking for that number of people, some of the calculations of food may have been a bit off, and then when the food was passed around one of the guests in particular chose to load his plate with half of the mashed potatoes from the bowl before most of the others even had a chance at them, with none left in the kitchen to replenish the supply for others.

Very quickly, Thanksgiving became a rather unequal distribution of the food that was available.  Some at the table left probably a little hungry, and either perplexed or resentful.  And I as host of the feast and master of the table was left feeling both embarrassed and a little bit angry at how my good will towards all was subverted by the greed of just one.

Sometimes Thanksgiving brings out the worst in us, and really highlights the possibility and the reality of inequality, greed and want being perpetuated in God’s good world.



What does Thanksgiving look like?

One last image.  I haven’t been there, but I’ve seen the ads in the paper.  The ones of a close-up picture of a man sitting at a long table among other tables, surrounded by others at the tables as well, lifting to his mouth a forkful of turkey from the plate of Thanksgiving food in front of him, and the caption reading “$3.99 for Thanksgiving dinner” and in invitation  to give a donation to Mission Services or The Good Shepherd Centre, to help them provide a Thanksgiving meal for those in the city who are homeless and poor.

I wonder what it’s like to have Thanksgiving dinner served by Mission Services or The Good Shepherd?  What it’s like to be one of those who serves?  What it’s like to help provide for the meal through a charitable donation?

Thanksgiving sometimes is an opportunity and an experience of compassionate sharing, and a lived-out recognition of the awareness that somehow we are either all in this together, or we’re not in it at all.



When the people of Israel come into the Promised Land they are told three things. 

One, they are to remember, and to teach their children from generation to generation that it is God who has brought them to the land, and God who provides the good things and the freedom to enjoy them. 

Two, they are advised not to start thinking that they somehow make their own good fortune, or that they are somehow more deserving of it than others. 

Three, they are commanded to remember the laws and the ways of God, and to keep on practicing and living out the good will of God towards all, if they want to stay in the good place where God has led them.



And when we take to heart these three simple rules for living in the Promised Land, there’s probably no end to what Thanksgiving can look like, and what it can mean for us and for others around us.

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