November 20, 2005

The Danger of Thanksgiving

Deuteronomy 26:1-11
Colossians 3:12-17
Luke 18:9-14

If we stop to think about it, there's not much new about Thanksgiving. It doesn't even originate in the North American Colonies or with the Pilgrims. The ancient Greeks celebrated a harvest festival, as did the Romans after them. The Anglo-Saxons observed Harvest Home as a day to celebrate the harvest, and the British continued that tradition. Even earlier, Jews instituted the feast day of Sukkoth as a celebration of harvest. Here in Duxbury we know well the story of the Pilgrims, but did you also know that a year earlier than the Mayflower landing, when the first English settlers arrived at the Berkeley Plantation on the James River in Virginia on December 4, 1619, that they established it as a day to be annually observed with thanksgiving? (i)

For people of faith, what can we say about Thanksgiving that hasn't already been said many times before? That it's rather ludicrous that we have only one day in the year to stop and give thanks to God for all the blessings in our lives? That we ought to give thanks to God every day? That all things come from God as free gifts and that we are only stewards? That we Americans are especially blessed in this land of ours flowing with milk and honey? All of these are so obvious - and so very true. We are fortunate. We have been richly blessed. But let's face it; we take so much of what we have for granted. We do. So, we celebrate Thanksgiving Day in part as a way of reminding ourselves not only what our gifts are, but from whom they come. (ii)

As we gather with friends and relatives later this week on this almost "holy" national holiday, there's a potential danger that we may be unfaithful to our God even while trying not to be. What do I mean by this? To get some understanding, let's take a closer look at the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector.

I remember from early in my childhood hearing this parable, undoubtedly read from the older King James Version, where it is referred to as the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, and mistakenly thinking it was the story of the Fairy and the Republican! That's like the child who prayed, "Our Father who art in heaven, how did you know my name?" We'll stick with the Pharisee and the tax collector this morning.

It seems as if the Pharisees are always getting picked upon. But they really were not all that bad. Actually, the Pharisees were a very positive influence in early Jewish society. The problem was that over the centuries distortions had crept into the law, and the Pharisees tended to interpret the law as an end in itself, rather than as a means to an end. Jesus was upset with these distortions and spoke out against them.

But some of the Pharisees were better than others. Take the one in this parable. If we look closely at him, we'll find him to be quite an admirable elder of the faith. As he says, he is not like many others. He's not a thief or an extortioner - he doesn't rip off people in business deals. He's not a rogue - he tries to live justly by the religious laws and to treat others fairly. He's not an adulterer - he keeps his marriage vows, is a model husband, and a good family man. He fasts twice a week - above and beyond what is expected. He gives away a tenth of all his income; he's a tither. How many of us could say the same? All that the Pharisee says about himself is laudable. He comes across as a praiseworthy person. He has good reason to be proud of his piety, especially compared to others. Yet, his pious words ring hollow as the figure of the tax collector emerges.

Tax collectors, usually Jews who were employed by Rome to collect tribute for the governor and the emperor, were hated with a passion by both Jews and Romans. This one is no exception. He's a pitiful man, no sense of self-esteem, hanging his head in shame because of his own unworthiness and sinfulness. But somehow his words ring true. They capture something essential to faith: "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!" Jesus concludes the parable, saying in effect, "This humble tax collector, despised and rejected by all, has been made right, is acceptable in the eyes of God. But this Pharisee is self-righteous, expecting, of course, that God will continue to bless him because he's been so good. But I tell you, his attitude is not acceptable."

In the Pharisee's character is much piety; he lives out the letter of the law, and then some. In many ways he is superior to the tax collector. But something's missing in his personality, something's missing that we expect to see in a person of faith. What's missing is compassion, love, sympathy; he shows no concern for his poor brother standing by him in obvious misery. What's also missing is humility. All he wants from God is a divine ear to hear his long list of achievements. He pretends to be praying a prayer of thanksgiving, but he's actually worshipping at the altar of the self. His sense of superiority isolates him from the one nearby who is seeking a word of hope or a helping hand. The Pharisee's pride prevents him from reaching out. (iii)

The danger we have in gathering with loved ones to celebrate the Day of Thanksgiving, is not that we may gain five pounds by stuffing ourselves to the gills, but rather that we may become like the Pharisee. But we immediately protest, "No! No! I am not like him!" Ah, not so fast my fellow faith travelers. Don't we as a society worship at the altar of the self? You bet we do! We laud the self-made man, the woman who beats the odds and breaks through the glass ceiling. We celebrate success. We who have made it in life - and most of us here surely have - we, consciously or unconsciously, look down upon those who haven't made it, those who somehow never quite caught the boat, or those whose boat always seems to be voyaging on rough seas.

As a nation we slip into the dangerous assumption that all the bounty we have, the good land, the abundant resources, everything that makes us superior to much of the rest of the world, is a sign of God's favor to us, that we are God's favorite nation, God's special people - because we deserve to be. Do we then infer that many of the people in Third World nations, suffering from a variety of problems - malnutrition, poor education systems, economic injustices, oppressive governments, etc., that all these folks are cursed or thought less of by God? Do we assume that the down and out folks of our cities and even our towns, those that beg on street corners or live in homeless shelters or worse, do we assume that God has forgotten and neglected them? This seems to be the implication. (iv)

I get annoyed when I hear religious or political leaders extol our virtues as a nation, explaining that we are prosperous because we have followed God's moral laws better than others have. Sadly, this notion has been around for a very long time. Back in the early part of the previous century, a prominent church leader declared: "Godliness is in league with riches ... Material prosperity is helping to make the national character sweeter, more joyous, more unselfish, more Christ-like. This is my answer to the question as to the relation between material prosperity and morality." (v) And this, in my mind, is faulty theology.

The truth of the matter is that we are fortunate. We have been richly blessed by God. But the fact that other nations or other people have less than we do is more a matter of economics, politics, climate, geography, or birth, than anything else. The point in our celebrating Thanksgiving is not to take credit for moral superiority or religious faithfulness as the source of our blessings, but rather, to acknowledge that the source is Almighty God - and to faithfully respond in tangible ways. (vi) We can do nothing to earn God's favor, but once God has blessed us, we have a responsibility to share this blessing with others.

We do this explicitly in church trough our pledges, tithes, and offerings. Occasionally we have special offerings, for victims of natural disasters, for example, or like today when we have a new offering, "Neighbors in Need." All these are financial ways that we share from our abundance. But, of course, there are many non-financial ways that we also share, for example, when we give of our time and our talents. All are important.

My seminary mentor, Henri Nouwen, commented on sharing from abundance. He said, "Thanksgiving ... is first of all a North American feast. This nation is affluent and has more than it needs. The realization that what we have is a free gift can deepen our desire to share this gift with others who cry out for help. When we bless the fruits of the harvest, let us at least realize that blessed fruits need to be shared. Otherwise, the blessing turns into a curse." (vii)

The danger of Thanksgiving is that we become like the Pharisee, taking credit for our goodness as the reason for our bounty and blessings; mouthing the words of thanksgiving, but not backing them up with deeds of love, compassion, caring, and sharing. The danger is that we forget the selfless humility of the tax collector, who reminds us that it is the humanity that we share in common with others that makes us only stewards of what we have. I'd like to close with a prayer-poem by an unknown author that is particularly appropriate for this day and this week.
"We thank thee for this smiling land of ours,
For all the beauty and the grandeur here;
We thank thee most for freedom, dearly bought
By Pilgrim band and sturdy pioneer.

Had they not bravely lived and so endured,
This priceless gift could never have been gained.
In thanks and solemn praise we raise our hearts,
And vow to keep our honor still unstained.

For this our bounty, Lord, we give thee thanks
With grateful hearts as brimming as our store.
Our flocks are fed, our fields have yielded well.
Dear Lord, we could not rightly ask for more.

Pray, make us humble for our harvest's yield
And mindful of our neighbors in distress;
Unless in our abundance we may share,
Then empty is our show of thankfulness." (viii)

As we have been blessed, may we be a blessing to others. Amen.

The Pilgrim Church of Duxbury
Rev. Kenneth C. Landall

i Autoillustrator, #32270.
ii Jon M. Walton, Word & Witness, 11/84.
iii Allan J. Weemink, Doran's Ministers Manual, 1985, p. 53.
iv Walton, op. cit.
v William Lawrence, in W&W, op. cit.
vi Walton, op. cit.
vii Henri Nouwen, Genesee Diary, p. 164.
viii Parables, Etc., 3.9.1.