The Rev. Dr. John Tamilio III

2020, Dr. Tamilio

In his 1656 journal Of Plymouth Plantation, Gov. William Bradford wrote the following:

In these hard and difficult beginnings they found some discontents and murmurings arise amongst some, and mutinous speeches and carriages in other; but they were soon quelled and overcome by the wisdom, patience, and just and equal carriage of things by the Governor and better part, which clave faithfully together in the main.  But that which was most sad and lamentable was that in two or three months’ time half of their company died, especially in January and February, being the depth of winter, and wanting [lacking] houses and other comforts; being infected with the scurvy and other diseases, which this long voyage and their inaccomodate condition had brought upon them, so as there died sometimes two or three of a day, in the aforesaid time, that of one hundred and odd persons, scarce fifty remained.  And of these in the time of most distress, there was but six or seven sound [healthy] persons who, to their great commendations be it spoken, spared no pains, night or day, but with abundance of toil and hazard of their own health, fetched them wood, made them fires, dressed [prepared] them meat, made their beds, washed their loathsome clothes, clothed and unclothed them; in a word, did all the homely and necessary offices for them which dainty and queasy stomachs cannot endure to hear named; and all this willingly and cheerfully, without any grudging in the least, showing herein their true love unto their friends and brethren.[1]

That was 400 years ago.  Our National Association of Congregational Christian Churches was supposed to meet in Portland, Maine this past June to celebrate our quadricentennial as Congregationalists in America.  As you know, we had to meet over Zoom instead, because of the COVID-19 pandemic.  I received an e-mail last Tuesday telling me that the meeting slated for next summer in Spokane, Washington has also been cancelled.  We will be meeting virtually again.

Although the “contexts” are completely different, and what we are experiencing right now does not compare to what the Pilgrims faced during their first winter in the New World, I find it interesting that this Thanksgiving we are facing a global pandemic with numbers on the rise.  The table will look different this year.  There will not be as many people gathered around it.  Family members who do not live in your house are advised not to come over to break bread, to join in a prayer in which we give thanks to God for all the blessings in our lives.

And then there are those who will have an extra seat at the Thanksgiving table this year because a loved one has passed away from the Coronavirus.  This season, which is meant to be a time of gratitude, will, for some, be a time of sadness.

Maybe it is fitting that as we celebrate the 400^th anniversary of the birth of Congregationalism in America, we are shrouded with compromising conditions, just as they were.  That said — we can still give thanks.

At Bible Study last week, we examined a few passages from Scripture that are about giving thanks to God.  One of them was from the Book of Job.  The passage we read comes toward the end of the first chapter.  Job has just been informed that his possessions have been plundered and all ten of his children have been killed.  Job tears his robes and shaves his head (a sign of mourning) and then says,

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

and naked I will depart.

The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;

may the name of the Lord be praised.”

Can you imagine being in the midst of such horrific despair and offering such words of gratitude!  Most of us cry, “Why me!” when we get a parking ticket.  Job lost practically everything and still maintains faith in the providence of God.  God gives and God takes away.  There must be a reason for both.  May the name of God be praised.

Thanksgiving 2020.  COIVD-19 numbers are on the rise.  This pandemic has caused some businesses to close.  Many people will be looking for work when this is over.  Some have lost family members and friends.  Will there be a vaccine?  Will it be safe?  There are lots of questions.  There is a lot of pain and uncertainty.  Will we be able to give thanks this year?

The answer to this rhetorical question is yes.  The child learns to say thank you when he or she receives a gift.  The adult (hopefully) learns to offer thanks even when he or she does not get a gift — at least one that isn’t obvious.  The truth of the matter is that we are showered with gifts all the time.  We are alive.  We have fresh air and clean water.  We are part of a congregation where each of us is loved unconditionally.  Tell me another place where you can find such acceptance: where you are loved for who you are, not judged for who you are not.

But there is another part to it.  When was the last time you were grateful for what didn’t happen?  That may sound like a bizarre question, but it lends itself to our whole “gratitude” discussion.  Gregg Krech writes the following:

My friend Donna had an interesting experience awhile ago — she compared it to winning the lottery.  She was so touched by this experience that she mentioned how grateful she was for things she normally takes for granted every day: water, trees, electricity, and more.  So what kind of extraordinary good fortune came Donna’s way?  Why was she feeling so grateful, so lucky?  Here’s what happened: nothing happened.

You see, Donna lives near Vero Beach, Florida, and a hurricane was heading in her direction.  She and her husband did everything they could to prepare for the storm — for 90 mph winds and drenching rains.  But nothing happened.  A few gusts of wind — some intermittent rain.  That was it.  That’s why Donna felt like she won the lottery.  Nothing happened.

When was the last time you felt grateful because nothing happened?  Nobody crashed into your car on the way home from work.  The electricity didn’t go out.  You didn’t wake up with a toothache.  You didn’t have a heart attack.  Nobody shot at you or robbed your home while you were gone.[2]

At the end of the day, no matter how bad things may be, it is easy to take stock of everything and realize that there is a lot for which to be thankful.  Believe me: I know that there are many people who have it very hard — who suffered (and still suffer) beyond what most of us can imagine.  I’m not being Pollyanna.  I’m not saying, “Look at the bright side,” in a dismissive way.  I am saying that the very fact that we exist, that there is something rather than nothing, that we can breathe deep and take in all the wonders of life: that is a blessing and the reason for prayers of thanksgiving that we owe to God.

So in this year, when everything is so different, let us pause.  Let us give thanks for the little things: for the ability to worship and pray, to rejoice, and to still laugh.  As Henry David Thoreau once said, “I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual.”  May ours be as well.  Amen.

 

[1] Taken online from nationalhumanitiescenter.org.

[2] Greg Krech, “Grateful for Nothing,” taken from gratefulness.org/blog/grateful-for-nothing.