A TRULY CHRISTIAN THANKSGIVING

 

This year, as we prepare for Thanksgiving in the shadow of COVID 19, we may feel a bit disappointed. Gone are the big throngs of family we usually anticipate, driving or even flying in from all over. Gone is the party atmosphere that goes along with it. In its place, it is just “us” or perhaps even “me, myself and I” alone in my apartment. How does one maintain a spirit of Thanksgiving without all the holiday folderol that usually accompanies it?  What can we do to truly celebrate Thanksgiving this year?

 

I was thinking about that -- as I figure we all have been lately, adjusting my expectations and preparing my heart to find thankfulness in the small gathering my Mom and I will have together -- when I began reading this evening’s passage from the Scriptures: Deuteronomy 26.

 

Moses was talking to the people of God about practicing the tithe when they arrived in the Promised Land. It didn’t take much for me to suddenly find my mind superimposig pictures of the first American Thanksgiving over the words Moses was speaking to the people of Israel. Like the Israelites, the Puritans and other first Europeans who arrived in the New World were in a land they’d never been before. The Puritans in particular had sailed here in search of a place where they could worship God freely.

 

Their first year on North American soil wasn’t an easy one. It was filled with a lot of sickness and many people died. Sound like the year we’ve just been through in 2020 to you? It does to me. Thanks to the Native Americans who already lived there, they managed to survive that terrible first year and we grateful. So, together with the Native Americans, they held a feast, full of the first fruits of their new land, laid bountifully on the table. With hearts bent toward God, they gave thanks.

 

Thankfulness to God is prevalent throughout Deuteronomy 26.  It is obvious that tithing of the first produce from the Promised Land wasn’t just worship or honor or a submissive act of servanthood to God, but one saturated with thankfulness.  In it, the people each make a declaration which recalls all God has done for them, from their days of slavery to freedom to inheritance of the Land of Promise, and they give thanks, pledging themselves afresh to Adonai. After giving their basket of first fruits to the priest, the person declares:

 

“My father was a wandering Aramean, and he went down to Egypt and lived there, an outside, few in number. But there he became a great nation -- mighty and numerous. The Egyptians treated us badly, afflicated us, and imposed hard labor on us. Then we cried out to Adonai, God of our fathers, and Adonai listen to our voice and saw our affliction, our toil and our opporession. Then Adonai brought us out from Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror, and with signs and wonders. He brought us to this place and gave us this land -- a land flowing with milk and honey. So now, look! I have brought the first of the fruits of the soil that You have given me, Adonai” Then you are to set it down before Adonai your God and worship before Adonai your God. You will rejoice inall the good that Adonai your God has given to you and to your house -- you, the Levite and the outsider in your midst.”

 

The passage goes on to talk about sharing the leftover produce of the land with the widow and the orphan, showing an illustration not only of giving the tithe in thanks but offerings to those in need from your overflow.

 

To me, at least, this is the picture of the REAL first Thanksgiving Day, Within it are examples of sharing what God has given us with Him first, with our pastors, and with those who are neediest among us. The example given, both in the Scriptures here and at Plymouth, Massachusetts, isn’t even a financial one. It’s gifts made by the toil of our hands -- food grown through common labor. It’s an example which broadens the definition of what a tithe looks like and how we can pour it out before our God and with each other. And  and it is one which holds within it an example we can use as we approach our holiday this year.  Consider all God has done to bring you through this rough year, recall all He has given and give thanks.

 

 

 

A Father's Impact

Ever since I was a little girl, my father has been influencing my life.

I suppose that's not so unusual. For better or for worse, our fathers, both those who were present and others we never knew, have had a significant impact on who we are, what we think, say, feel and do, not only as in pertains to ourselves, but to other people, the world around us, and our perceptions and reactions to God, particularly as He is described as our Heavenly Father.

I still remember the first time God used my earthly father to illustrate something about Himself. I was in first grade, staring out the classroom window into the brilliant September sunshine as it bounded off the lush green lawn and still verdant maples. Through the reverie of my dreamworld, I heard the teacher reciting to us the first of many catechism questions and answers we were to learn during the next eight years of Catholic grammar school: "Who made me? God made me."

As if they were made of sharp steel, the words cut through my dreamlike state of mind, grabbing hold of my imagination full force. "God, you made me?" I said, nearly incredulous. "You gave me my mommy and my daddy? You put me in this beautiful world?" I could hardly believe One so wonderful as this, so generous and kind and full of good intentions toward me existed. "God," I said, as my heart filled with joy and overflowed with gratitude, "If You made me, You can have me!"

I didn't really know what I was saying. Not fully. Yes, I loved the Lord. Yes, I wanted to thank Him by giving myself to Him, wholly and completely. But I didn't really know what this act of total surrender, however fully I had given it and with whatever depth of gratitude (and it was very deep) it came, would cost me, both personally and professionally. Yet, as I would come to decide again and again at pivotal moments in my life's journey, they were the most reasonable and deserved words of surrender any person could utter.

Perhaps, as you read this, you are thinking about your own childhood. It was not an easy time. There was no parent to care for you (or those you had were harsh and mean-spirited). There was no lovely schoolyard to look upon on a sunny September morning; instead dark, towering brick structures surrounded by cracked cement sidewalks and thugs selling drugs on the streets were your world. There was no reason for you to believe that God existed or, if He did, that He cared one whit for you.

I get that. I really do. I've travelled a long road since those days in Catholic grammar school. I've known what it is to go a long time without a job and even sweat scraping together the money it would take for me to put gas in the car. I've known what it is to be emotionally and then physically abused and beaten by a man. I've known what it is to feel completely rejected by nearly everyone for a physical disability I could not change, or stand ostracized and unforgiven by someone I deeply loved for a sin I could not erase.

Sometimes I've questioned God deeply about why He allows suffering in this world if He loves us as He says He does. I've seen people say they love the Lord, then do hateful things to others in His name, and been sick at heart from the sight of it. I've struggled to find reasons to believe, when everything I turn my hand to do refuses to blossom, no matter how much effort I give it or how faithful I am to do the good I know God asks of me to do. I've seen the pain of others, whose lives are in far greater difficulty than mine, and searched, without finding, for words to help them through the darkness, only to realize that sometimes just listening and caring are the best response for seasons and situations such as these.

Sometimes, seeing these things has threatened my faith. It has beaten upon the door of my heart, sometimes seeming to slam at it with a battering ram. Sometimes it has seemed that I barely cling to what I believe by the tips of my fingernails, that the world looms beneath me like a city sidewalk miles below, ready to receive my body in broken, bleeding pieces when once I lose my grip. Many times, it has only been a shriek into the heavenlies and a stern determination to stay the course, believing, even without feeling or having intellectual certitude, that His strength, His commitment to me, will hold me, that has kept me from giving in.

It is from these caverns (and sometimes mountaintops) of experience that I write to you, and from which, I hope, to encourage, inspire and walk with you as we traverse Earth's paths together, peering into the world our God has created, groping for His hand, seeking His thoughts, longing for His guidance, depending on His deliverance, all along the way.

Over the course of this blog's lifetime, I will be sharing little tidbits from my quiet times with God, lessons my heavenly Father is sharing with me. I hope and pray they will inspire, motivate and encourage you as much as they have me, and I invite you to share with me your own thoughts about these meditations and what lessons the Father has been teaching you. Come along for the journey!