November 23, 2011
Ecumenical Thanksgiving Service, St. Thomas More
Scripture:  Deut 8:7-18 and Luke 17:11-19

Giving Thanks for the Journey

Rev. Leanne Walt preaching

I’m grateful for the opportunity for our congregation to join in worshiping God with our Christian neighbors here in Braintree. It is as Christ intends, I believe, for us to forge ecumenical relationships and partnerships within our communities, the nation, and the world.  Thank you to Father McCarthy and the parish here at St. Thomas More for the invitation to break open the word in this place on this eve of Thanksgiving.  I do so with a grateful heart.

Would you pray with me….

*          *          *          *
I’ve already eaten my first Thanksgiving dinner this year.  Just yesterday I enjoyed savory bites of turkey with cranberry and rich stuffing, a delicious prelude to tomorrow afternoon.  Both the preschool and kindergarten schools that operate out of our building at First Church were enjoying their annual Thanksgiving celebration yesterday, replete with all the accouterments; turkey, stuffing, cornbread, gravy, mashed potatoes, you name it.  

The preschool festivities not only involve eating a meal, but they remember the first Thanksgiving by asking the children to dress as The Pilgrims and Native Americans.  I watched as a cluster of miniature Native Americans with feathered construction paper headdresses and decoratively painted faces entered the hall and assumed their position behind a chair at one of the long tables.  Then, The Pilgrims entered, a band of small creatures with floppy brown hats and square paper collars with cut outs for their heads.  The Pilgrims took their seats and the feast began.  Those of you with children or grandchildren have, I can imagine, witnessed a similar scene in your travels or perhaps, like me, you have stood as one of those tiny, costumed creatures some years ago.

Even as small children in this country, we are reminded of our pilgrim roots.  Wanderers by nature.  Seekers of lasting meaning.  Travelers we are - on a perpetual sojourn for justice and journey for Truth.  Pilgrims we are.  And so here we are, my pilgrim friends on this night, seeking a Word of truth, life, hope, and peace.  Here we are, another year having passed, a moment to pause on our pilgrim way and assess where we have been and where it is we are going.

In December of 1621, Governor William Bradford and his fellow pilgrims took a moment to pause and assess where they had been and where they were going.  For three days the pilgrims and the Wampanoag people gathered for feasting and prayer.  It had been nearly one year since they had stepped out onto Plymouth Rock and that first winter they spent on the shores of the Massachusetts Bay was harsh and devastating.  Nearly half of those with whom they had traveled had died.  Bradford wrote of the first three months in this strange and merciless land, “It pleased God to visit us then with death daily.  Disease was everywhere.  The living were scarcely able to bury the dead.” 
The light of hope they sought to find in this new world barely shone through the depth and death of that first winter.

Yet, with the help of the Native Americans the harvest that followed was plentiful and so they paused on their pilgrim way for feasting and thanksgiving.  They feasted on venison, wild duck, and geese, boiled pumpkin, and corn.  They gave thanks to God, for it is right to give thanks and praise to the Lord our God.  They feasted and thanked, knowing far better than we the unforgiving forces of nature and the magnitude of loss but one year can hold.

So, then, in addition to the season’s abundant harvest and the life of those who survived, what might they have been thankful for?  Perhaps, simply for one another.  For the threads of community that bound them together amidst a storm of devastation, grief, and despair.  When they began to fear that their hope was in vain, the ties of their family and of their kinship to one another lifted them up. 

They gave thanks for the presence and guidance of the Native American people, attune to the rhythms of the land and nature, without whom they would not have survived that first year to celebrate with feasting and thanking. 

The words of a favorite hymn of mine come to mind.  Words that I sang as a child when I was trying on dreams for the future, as a young adult when I had journeyed home from travels abroad, as a new clergyperson just moments into ordained ministry, and now those that I sing with my new congregation here in Braintree as we look into our future with hopeful hearts:

“We are pilgrims on a journey,
We are travelers on the road;
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.”

My pilgrim friends, as we gather to feast tomorrow we, too, ought to offer our thanks for the community that has shaped us, has formed us, has given us strength enough for the journey.  It is especially right to do so in a time now when people are falling further and further away from the bonds of community.  It used to be that people sought out community within their communities.  There were bowling leagues, Men’s Groups, Women’s Groups, communities of faith.  And though these still exist, attendance is sparse at best and they are generally comprised of an older demographic – our New England churches know this reality far too well.  Then there’s still Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and Youth Groups, but again, all of these groups have experienced a serious decline in numbers in recent years. 

In the year 2000, Robert Putnam came out with a book based on extensive research and statistical evidence in which he chronicles how we Americans have become increasingly disconnected from family, friends, neighbors, and civic life.  As the title of his book suggests, we now go Bowling Alone.  Instead of seeking physical connections with others, younger generations find community through text messaging and Facebook. 

Author Kurt Vonnegut offered wise words on the matter,
“What should young people do with their lives today?  Many things, obviously.  But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.”

In this cyber world, diseased with loneliness, it is good to be together tonight.  To feast on God’s Word and give thanks for the journey.  In our gathering may we seek to lift up the importance of community for our young people, within our respective congregations, may we offer them a place to truly be with one another – not virtually, but physically – a holy place that speaks to them, a holy space that meets their needs – not only ours.  May God give us the courage to imagine such a holy place right here in Braintree, Massachusetts.

*          *          *          *
As they gathered and feasted, I imagine that our pilgrim ancestors gave thanks for freedom.  In the wake of their causalities, on the shores of the Massachusetts Bay they could finally begin to taste the religious freedom that they sought across the sea; freedom to worship God as separate from the state, freedom in democracy.  My pilgrim friends, we have continued to pursue democratic truth and religious freedom, the Truth that Jesus promises will set us free; freedom that continues to be hard fought and never easily won.

Just yesterday I was listing to a program on NPR focusing on the military and military families – perhaps some of you also caught this segment.  The host, Neal Conan, was interviewing a Marine of the 3rd Battalion, 5th Regiment who had lost both his legs in battle.  A gentleman from Wyoming called into the show offering the comment that he feels Americans don’t understand or appreciate that we are loosing the greatest of an entire generation in these wars.  The caller went on to share that his nephew was killed in Afghanistan by an IED.  He, too, belonged to the Marine’s 3rd and 5th.  Neal Conan asked him what his nephew’s name was, so that they could take a moment to remember the fallen Marine.  “Lance Corporal Alec Catherwood,” the caller said, and he asked the Marine who was there being interviewed on the show, “Do you remember him.”

After a moment of dead air, the Marine sighed and said, “Yeah, I was about 50 feet away when he died…it’s heard to hear that name.”

As we feast tomorrow, may we give thanks for the sacrifices of our sisters and brothers – heroic pilgrims defending the ideals of truth and freedom that compelled the first feast of giving thanks. 

*          *          *          *
Perhaps, too, The Pilgrims remembered their pilgrim ancestors as they gathered for that first feast of giving thanks.  The Israelites, God’s chosen people, bound and oppressed, set free to wander through the wilderness toward the Promised Land.  Nearing the end of their grueling 40- year journey, full of hunger and despair, Moses offers them a vision of the land that God will provide for them in our reading from Deuteronomy this evening.  He describes a land of flowing streams, wheat and barley, vines of fig trees and pomegranates, olive trees and honey.  “You shall eat your fill,” Moses promises them.  But, he says, “Take care that you do not forget the Lord your God.”  Give thanks and bless God for all that he has given you.  Over two thousand years later, in their pause, The Pilgrims heeded this Word and they gave thanks to God.

And so as they remembered the story of their pilgrim ancestors around that table of assurance and abundance at the first Thanksgiving, I imagine above all, that The Pilgrims offered their gratitude for the presence of Christ in their hearts, for the promise that constituted the very foundation of their faith, as it does ours.  The promise that we remember each time we gather at the Communion table, that “Jesus said, ‘I am the Bread of Life.  Whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst’” (John 6:35).  The Bread of Life spiritually fed them; it carried them over the tumultuous and rough Atlantic waters, through the depths of death and disease, and in the emptiness of hunger they were filled by the Bread of Life.

At this time of Thanksgiving, as Christians we are standing ready to prepare our hearts to receive the Bread of Life in flesh and bone, in a humble stable surrounded by livestock.  We are preparing to meet Emmanuel, God with us.  We are preparing to recognize that the Promise is here among us and has been all along, through hunger and need, death and despair, joy and heartache.  God has felt our journey every mile.

I leave you on this eve of giving thanks with an excerpt from a Poem by our pilgrim forbearer, William Bradford:
From my years young in days of youth,
God did make known to me his truth,
And call'd me from my native place
For to enjoy the means of grace.
In wilderness he did me guide,
And in strange lands for me provide.
In fears and wants, though weal and woe,
A pilgrim, past I to and fro:
Oft left of them whom I did trust;
How vain it is to rest on dust!
A man of sorrows I have been,
And many changes I have seen.
Wars, wants, peace, plenty, have I known;
And some advanc'd, others thrown down.
The humble poor, cheerful and glad;
Rich, discontent, sower and sad:
When fears and sorrows have been mixt,
Consolations came betwixt.
Faint not, poor soul, in God still trust.

Wayfarers and wanderers, in God still trust.  Give thanks, my pilgrim friends.  Give thanks for the journey.

 
 
November 20, 2011
Thanksgiving Sunday

Scripture:  Psalm 95:1-7a

Above All gods, 

Rev. Leanne Walt preaching

There is a window, an entryway into recognition and response that our psalmist offers us this morning.  There is an invitation, to come make a joyful noise of “Halleluiah’s,” to come worship and bow down, a gracious invitation to come into God’s presence with thanksgiving and so we have brought our thanksgiving to this place on this day, we have set our thanks in the abundance of our pledges amidst the cornucopia upon this festive altar. 

This psalm, Psalm 95, the Word that kindles the fire of our week of thanks, has been used as a call to worship for nearly 3,000 years.  These ancient words were used by the Israelites as part of worship in the temple:
“O come, let us sing to the Lord;
Let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! 
Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving;
let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise! 
For the Lord is a great God,
and a great King above all gods,”
They sang these words as a processional to herald in the Feast of Booths, a Jewish festival lasting seven days in which they give thanks for that year’s fruit harvest and this familiar psalm continues to serve as invitation for our giving thanks to God for the harvest in our lives.

Though, for many the harvest in our lives is not so easily recognizable as the Israelites’ fruit on a vine or the fields of corn and squash that the Pilgrims celebrated at the first Thanksgiving.  It takes attention and mindfulness to recognize how God is working in our lives and most of us stumble in here on Sunday mornings, slightly off-balance and seeking the strength to make a joyful noise to the Lord despite the recent loss of a friend, the bleak diagnosis of a loved one, an aging spouse, a depressed economy, or battling depression ourselves.

Around this time last year, I observed my grandmother attempting to regain her mobility after hip replacement surgery.  She stood, looking a mixture of fear and determination that she would attribute to her strong German stock, I’m sure; the physical therapist supporting her from behind, hands grasping her walker, appearing ready to make a break for it down the long hallway of the rehab center and out into the streets.  But, the progress was slow, one foot slowly reaching out into the unknown, tentative and measured, until she was sure that her foot would meet solid ground.  She stepped.  Then, she began the same process all over again with the other foot.  In many ways, this is the life of faith, exploratory, gradual, and sometimes even a bit awkward. 

I feel I have been on such a journey with you all over the course of the past month or so as we have stepped out in faith together to talk about money and we have introduced this idea that our giving is a response to God’s grace in our lives.  According to our psalmist, we are to make a joyful noise to the Lord in response to the grace we have each been given.  Yet, as I have been thinking about this idea of responding to God’s grace, I have realized that there is an element that must precede our response to God’s grace and that is our recognition of God’s grace; we must plow through the fields of our life and lift up before God the particular presence and persistence of grace that we discover in order to offer adequate response in return.

John Calvin wrote that we are in fact so close to God our Creator that our awareness of the divine is a natural, innate quality that is woven into the very fabric of our being when we are born.  But as time goes on, he says, as we grow and learn and are exposed to culture, ideas, and ideologies, we fall away from this intrinsic awareness of God and we are no longer able to so easily discern God’s presence in our lives.  Despite the five hundred years standing in between Calvin, our reformer brother, and us, it remains the case that it is difficult to discern true grace in our lives because there are so many facets of our culture that attract our attention and appeal to our desires; there are so many false gods to worship, to which we are tempted to offer our song, our praise, our thanksgiving. 

False grace lurks in shopping malls, cell phones and on the Internet, in political authorities and the media, in our homes and cars, we pour our sacred trust into all of these things that they will lead us to joy and fulfillment.  Devilishly they beckon to us that they will set our paths straight, that they will fill our hunger. 

As the country singer Johnny Lee heartbreakingly sang about true love, perhaps the same can be intoned about our quest for true grace,
“Well, I spent a lifetime lookin' for you

Single bars and good time lovers were never true

Playin' a fools game, hopin' to win

Tellin' those sweet lies and losin' again
I was lookin' for love in all the wrong places”
Otherwise easily caught up in a fools game, we have stumbled to this place on this day to recognize and give thanks for true grace in our lives, seeking to know, once again, the hand that formed us and carried us into this world; the God above all gods.

It takes but a moment to recognize our God that the psalmist proclaims, just one moment of grace to shock us into its Truth and urge our thanksgiving to the God that is above all gods. 

One of the greatest joys of parish ministry is the proximity to grace that the office allows, for the church can be and ought to be and is a place where people are touched by the grace of God.  Ours is the church where a bereaved family gathers out of respect for the dead and unexpectedly finds a healing word of everlasting life that they never knew mattered.  Stumbling into this sanctuary, unsure of their footing, touched but by the grace of God.

Ours is the church where a homeless teenager quietly wanders in on a cold fall night, seeking a place to stay to be met with the compassionate and outstretched hand of one of our very own.  Offering a phone, a ride, some bus fare.  Stumbling into the doors of this building, unsure of his footing, touched by grace. 

Ours is the church that provides local teenagers a village by the lakeside at summer camp, a safe place where they can lead with their truth, lay down their burdens, be who God made them to be.  In this haven, each one is touched by the grace of God.  

Ours is the church that solicits and hand delivers frozen, heavy turkeys each November to Interfaith Social Services so that families in need will enjoy a similar feast to ours on Thanksgiving day.  Grace.

Instances of grace exist in equal measure outside of the church; for the lifelong addict who gets sober at 36, meets the love of her life, has children in her 40’s, and has the family she always dreamed of but never believed to be a possibility.  But for the grace of God.

For the black man with a young daughter who is incarcerated at 22 for dealing drugs, so lost that he finds prison a relief from the destructive distractions that existed for him in the free world.  Yet a few years after his release, he is offered a job at the Boston Workers Alliance and now works to help young black men become wage-earning fathers in the home.  But for the grace of God.

For, even when we’re playing a fools game, stumbling around in the dark, Calvin and Paul promise that we will find grace – or it will find us – one way or another.  The question is how will we respond?  Without a response, the grace we receive is cheaply earned as Bonheoffer coined and, as Paul warns in 2 Corinthians, we will have accepted the grace of God in vain (2 Cor 6:1).

This time of year I often wonder where the thanks falls for those who don’t recognize God at work in their lives.  People are thankful for their family, for their health, for their jobs, and belongings, perhaps.  But as they pass the turkey and stuffing, where do they direct their thanks for the grace and blessings in their lives if not to God?  Like a lit candle, I imagine their gratitude gradually burns down on one end and evaporates like smoke into thin air on the other.  A fleeting moment of thanks.

Psalm 95 summons our response, inviting us to come, sing to the Lord, make a joyful noise, bring our thanksgiving, for the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods.  Through our giving thanks, we will be filled.  This morning’s pledge dedication is this community’s recognition and response to God’s grace in our lives, for those moments when we have stepped out into the unknown, unsteady, tentative, and fearful, and somehow our feet have met solid ground.  But for the grace of God.

This morning our thanks falls fully on God.