Trinity Episcopal Church

The words that I speak are mine Lord, Let the words that are heard be thine.  Amen

Funny thing about thanksgiving..  It is at once a national holiday, a religious holiday, a regional celebration of ethnic foods, and such a family oriented celebration that tomorrow will be the most travelled day of the year as family and friends head home.  It is a time for offering thanks, a time for shopping for gifts that we can barely afford and hardly need, a time for being sentimental about holidays past, a time for being generous with our time and our treasure as we provide food to the marginalized of our community, and – at least in my family - a time for enjoying way more turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie than any human being should ever consume.

My memory of Thanksgiving begins in a small southern town in the northeast section of  Louisiana.  Those memories are filled with the sights, sounds, and smells of cotton gins running day and night, with backaches from long days of picking up pecans from the ground to sell to the wholesalers who came through town.  It is about leaves burning and deer hunting and holiday baking and Saturday trips to the nearest city as my mother shopped for our Christmas presents. 

I think that one of the difficulties of the holiday season is our expectation of it.  We have been inculcated from childhood to believe that this is a magical season where goodness thrives for a short time and miracles are the order of the day.  Christmas snow, twinkling lights, sentimental traditions and music of Santa, chestnuts roasting, and peace and goodwill for all - these images all add to the mystique that we call the holiday season.  There two problems with all these expectations that we have.  One is the possibility that we might come to believe that our health, our wealth, and our happiness are blessings that somehow indicate a favored status for us in God's eyes.  The second is that it is virtually impossible for the vast majority of our expectations to be fulfilled.  We expect miracles and instead we get reality. 

For many of our brothers and sisters this season is anything but magical.  Economic woes, violence in the streets, cut-backs in basic service – not to mention a protracted war overseas that is spreading to other countries even as we seek to find a way out.  The story is even worse for those in war-torn countries or in areas where disease, famine, and oppression are part and parcel of everyday life.  And so when I hear lessons about a land of flowing streams where God provides sustenance for all or when I read that I am not to worry about what I will eat or drink because all of these things will be given to me if I strive for righteousness - I am troubled.  What I read in scripture does not always seem to resonate with what I see in the world.  Does this mean that I can expect God to bless me and not someone else?  Does this mean that I can quit my job because God will provide whatever I need to live tomorrow?  Does this mean that when tragedy happens God has abandoned us or when good fortune comes God has decided to act in our favor?  Somehow I don’t think so.   But the fact is that being faithful to God is no easier now than when these passages were written and organized religion with the myriad ways in which we use it to oppress those whose beliefs are not our own - seems less and less relevant in our secular world.   So why have we come to this place, on this night, to hear this message of hope, and to give thanks.  

I believe that the reason we are here truly is to be found in this message of God’s provision for our needs, but I don’t believe that either the deuteronomic writer or the author of this gospel had any expectation of life being easy for them.  Rather I believe that what they are both trying to express is a powerful sense of God's presence in the desolate places of our lives both public and personal, that the cares and anxiety of this life are not the way that God desires us to be and that we are active participants in the bringing about of God’s Kingdom.  

My daughter works for the International Medical Corps as a communications support person.  She has been in Baghdad since last May, living in a compound with sixteen people, behind blast walls, and far from the relative safety of the Green Zone.  Barb had spent three years advocating for an end to the war in Iraq and so as the troops pulled out and the humanitarian surge began she joined those who would try to help rebuild that country.   One of her jobs is to teach grammar and syntax to English speaking Iraqis who must deal with western culture.   Late last summer a series of bombs went off in Baghdad and one of them struck very near the building where Barbra was teaching.  I want to read a portion of her online blog to you.  There is some rough language in it, but I am going to read it as it is written.  She says…

“When a bomb goes off close you can feel it. It slams the door and shakes the room and for half a second the vibrations change around you. It’s quiet for almost a full second until someone acknowledges what happened, “it’s a bomb.” Everyone nods and then you move on.

Today during my workshop it happened. The bomb at the Ministry of Health shook our room and then we talked about subject verb agreement. After hours of isolation from the internet or the outside world we went to lunch. That’s when I found out about the 5 people from our compound who were in the blast zones - that there were 8 bombs and 2 mortar attacks on the Green Zone. That the bombs went off all over the city mostly at Ministry buildings - the mortars came close enough to collapse a building in the Green Zone. That over 500 people were injured and over 100 were killed. That an overpass collapsed during the normal traffic jams...and then the streets were clear

.I came back from lunch to meet with my group. What do you say to a group of people who have lived through this bullshit for over a decade? What do you say when you both know they are leaving the safety of the compound at 4 and they might just end up in the wrong place at the wrong time? What do you say when they have lost people and may be worrying about losing more?

I said, “I know this has become common...but, we can never think it’s normal. I’m sorry this is happening. If you need to use the phone, please do so. If you need to leave, please do so. There is nothing we can do but press on - and you all know that a lot better than I do...so, let’s talk about formatting.” Then when they left I said, “Get home safe!” and I never meant something more in my life.

The smoke lingers in the air for hours after the explosion - a big black puff of smoke rising in the distance, looming over the city like a death shroud. For what? To create chaos. To prove the politicians have no control. To take the future away from so many in a random instant - hoping it will secure your own. These people - the ones who kill mercilessly, without regard for innocent life, without a shred of humanity in their bones - are evil. I don’t use that word lightly - today I feel it. There is nothing - no excuse or cause - that can justify what has happened here today.

The compound is on lock down. No unnecessary travel. Our house mom has an infected hand and none of the cooks can stay late to cook dinner. The natives were restless when they came to feeding time and there was no dinner. I can’t really blame them. We have no control over our lives here - not even when or what we eat. When the rhythm gets changed up by bombs or sickness it’s difficult to adjust. Even still, it’s hard to understand the complaints when so many have died for nothing and the woman who takes care of us is ill.
It’s been a pretty shitty day...but, I am grateful for the chance at tomorrow.”

What do you say to someone whose life is difficult and dangerous?  You say “I know that life is hard sometimes, but we can never accept that suffering is all that we have or is God’s will for us – because it is not. 

And so tonight we gather in this place as a community of diverse traditions and faiths to offer our thanks for our many and great blessings.  But we don’t do so with the naïve belief that all is right with the world.  Rather we gather here realizing that our world is a place of great suffering and hardship and that instant cure-all miracles are not likely to fall from heaven.  The miracle that has taken place is that God is in us and we are of God.  Each one of us who turns to God in faith and confidence acts as God’s hands and heart at work in the world, bringing about the blessings of a bountiful harvest and a peaceful land.  

In just a few moments we will all be asked to reach deeply into our pockets and to support the Open hand Food Pantry.  We do that because it si one way that we can stand in solidarity with those who have little in the way of worldly blessing.  We give not from the bounty of our own hands, but out of the abundance of God’s gift to us.  We reach deeply and give generously so that all may eat their fill and bless the Lord.

This Thanksgiving as we all sit down to way too much turkey and more pie that we can eat, let’s remember that the miracle is God's presence in all our sorts and conditions and that we are God's hands in the world.  Therefore, we strive to live into our union with God by caring for those on the edge of the circle, for all those who come to us with boils and blisters, with thorns and sharp edges whether they are in the backstreets of Baghdad or on our front steps.  As God does for us, we can help lift the anxiety and the worry from their shoulders by opening ourselves up to the love and Grace of God and then by offering ourselves up in service to them as God has commanded us to do.

Let us pray,

Gracious and Loving God, we offer you our thanks for the many blessings of our lives, for our families and friends, for the joy and celebration of this holiday season.  Now Lord as we gather here tonight and as we gather in our many homes this Thanksgiving, bless this abundance to our use and us to your service and keep us ever mindful of the needs of others.  Amen