Posted: 11/10/06
CYBER COLUMN:
Thanksgiving list
By John Duncan
I’m sitting here under the old oak tree, pondering life as I know it on this rainy day. Another Sunday has folded its page on the calendar, and Thanksgiving soon arrives. I love the Lord, Sundays, the church and have so much for which to give thanks.
Actually, I was thinking about that first Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving has its roots in the harvest home celebrations that took place in England before the Pilgrims ever arrived on the sand and shores of America. Thirty-eight English settlers docked the shores of the James River at the Berkley plantation in what is today known as Charles City, Va. The settlers declared, a “Day of thanksgiving to God” after their torturous ride across the Atlantic. Later, another group of Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth Rock on Dec. 11, 1620, and then further south at Cape Cod, Mass. I can only imagine that first, harsh winter in New England. The snow, the questions, the death as they lost about half their settlers, the grief, the misery, the agony, the anger, the longing for home, the joy, and even the adventure of the new land.
In the spring of 1621, the Indians, led by Samorset, of the Wampanoag tribe, and Squanto, of the Patuxtet tribe, taught the pilgrims to plant corn or “maize,” to harvest alewives of the herring family, and to fertilize for crops like peas, wheat, barley and pumpkins. The following autumn, Gov. William Bradford and the Pilgrims organized a harvest festival in appreciation for the help of the Indians. About 90 or so Pilgrims and Indians gathered and celebrated a time of thanksgiving amid a feast of vegetables and wild fowl like geese in the spirit of thanksgiving. The first Thanksgiving was celebrated with no afternoon Dallas Cowboys football, no pecan pie, no family squabbles and probably not even a turkey. Another thanksgiving celebration did not take place in New England for 55 years, “the silent years,” as I call them.
Later, the governing council of Charleston, Mass., announced a thanksgiving proclamation on June 20, 1676, declaring a day of thanksgiving on June 29, 1676. The U.S. Continental Congress declared Thanksgiving Day on the 28th of November, a Thursday, in 1782 and celebrated with gratitude for the mercies of Almighty God. George Washington declared the day of thanks on the 26th of November, Thursday, in 1789, invoking “the great Lord and Ruler of the nations,” along with appreciation for “the great degree of tranquility, union and plenty which we have enjoyed.”
Finally, Abraham Lincoln’s infamous words in 1863 highlight the “blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies,” along with gratitude for mines and population growth and with the “Almighty hand to heal the wounds of the nation and restore it,” and with the “gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in our anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.” Lincoln invited all people in America and the world to share in a Day of Thanksgiving on the last Thursday of November with “praise to our beneficent father.” Who talks like that? Who writes like that? I wish more people wrote like that. And who better to invoke thanksgiving than our 16th president? After all, America had weathered many a storm from that first blustery New England winter, to politics, civil war, and the struggle of survival and the hope of economic growth.
One nice thing about American thanksgiving long forgotten is the staple and stable force of the church—churches that still today dot the New England landscape like pictures from a Norman Rockwell painting as reminder of the blessing of God and the anchor of hope that to this very moment steeples point to (God) as they rise toward the heavens.
I’m sitting here thinking with romantic flair, say, of the renaissance, even idealistically, about that first Thanksgiving—gentle snowflakes tumbling mid air like cotton balls from the sky and pilgrims and Indians smiling at each other while they eat amazing maize and wild geese and talking about the weather because it was the only real thing to talk about and dreaming of new homes and peace on earth, goodwill toward men. I see children laughing and playing in the snow and hear a prayer of thanksgiving to Almighty God. As I dream of days past, reality hits, and I think about the joy along with the sadness of so many who died before that first Thanksgiving, the tension of new people in a new land or an old land depending on which side of the fence you’re on, and the enormous task ahead to gain consensus, build structure and make a nation, people united in the land so fresh. I think of suffering and gratitude to God as the twin pillars that provided a foundation for America as we know it.
I guess we’ve come a long way from the first thanksgiving to now. This Thanksgiving, people will eat turkey, not wild geese, and watch football and stay in out of the snow or the rain or the sunshine and be in need of a little tranquility, and union, and give thanks for the plenty we have enjoyed.
I guess really not much has changed, has it? America is still the place where we weather many a storm, where politics divide, where wars rage, and where people daily struggle for survival and economic growth. The weather channel keeps us informed of the latest change in the temperature, barometric pressure, and dew points. Politics leap over red and blue in the red, white and blue, with negative political ads, scandal and dreams of a better tomorrow. Care packages are sent to soldiers on war duty in Iraq, while suicide bombers drive cars into buildings in Baghdad. Wars rage among nations, communities, in homes and hearts, even silent wars as gruesome as Iraq or Baghdad. All in all, people struggle to makes ends meet or pursue life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Are you happy? And, all in all, America is a land where economic survival for many is the challenge of finding daily bread for $2 a loaf and for trying to dig out of the hole of financial debt. It is a way of life in America for most.
Still, the steeple points to the heavens, to Almighty God and the ruler of nations and the Most High God. We all have much for which to be thankful, corn and pumpkins and cable TV and heating in the winter and iPods and X-Box and cars and Starbucks and Home Depot and Blue Bell ice cream from Brenham and family and churches with steeples and laughter and friendships and comfort in grief and light in the darkness and God’s blessing abundant. Make your own list and truly give thanks.
It is, sometimes, a crazy world. In our town, we have the weekly actual accounts of a police log printed in the local newspaper. It goes like this: A woman stepped outside of her house and heard two shots fired; five horses are out and getting into his neighbor’s house; neighbors took a dead dog to the end of the street and dropped it off; a man called 911 and complained he was kicked out of a bar and wants to get back in; a Comanche Cove man reported his chain saw and weed eater stolen but found it in the pawn shop. Or consider an anonymous poem once written about thanksgiving: “Tell me, Mr. Turkey, Don’t you feel afraid When you hear us talking ‘Bout the plans we’ve made?” America, sometimes, it is a crazy and wild and bizarre place.
Several years ago, a man handed me a book by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was a pastor, old and used up, tired, but wise. He handed me the book and told me to pay special attention to certain pages. I copied the section, cut it out, and taped it in front of my Bible. What was Bonhoeffer’s message to me through the man? “How can God entrust great things to one who will not thankfully receive from him little things? … A pastor should never complain about this congregation, certainly not to other people, but also not to God. Let him do what he is committed to do and thank God. The more thankfully we daily receive what is given to us, the more surely and steadily will fellowship increase and grow from day to day.”
Lamentations puts it best, “It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed because his compassions fail not” (Lamentations 3:22). “Oh give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good; his mercy endures forever!” (Psalm 107:1).
So here I am under this old tree and thankful for it. I’m hoping for snow, waiting for Thanksgiving, remembering our nation, praising God for his mercy, and giving thanks. Please pass the turkey. And know that my list of all that I am thankful for never ends.
Happy Thanksgiving!
John Duncan is pastor of Lakeside Baptist Church in Granbury, Texas, and the writer of numerous articles in various journals and magazines. You can respond to his column by e-mailing him at jduncan@lakesidebc.org.
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