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Thanksgiving Day
Almighty and gracious Father, we give thee thanks for the fruits of the earth in their season and for the labors of those who harvest them. Make us, we beseech thee, faithful stewards of thy great bounty, for the provision of our necessities and the relief of all who are in need, to the glory of thy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
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Thanksgiving Day
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A Sermon by
Fr. Spurlock
✛
One Day to Make a Beginning of Being Grateful
Late in the day, just before sunset, a man sat alone on the stump of a tree. He was stooped over looking at the ground between his feet. He seemed older than he was then, but everyone would agree that he was too young to die (not that anybody cared whether he did or didn’t). As he sat, and looked at the ground, he began to feel he was not alone anymore, and looked up to find an angel of death standing a few paces away.
The angel spoke, “Come with me. It is your time.”
The man looked to see someone else had wandered up, but he was alone. “Me, do you mean?”
“Yes, you, come along.”
“But I’m too young to die,” the man protested.
“Yes,” the angel said, “but you are too ungrateful to live.”
“What do you mean too ungrateful to live?”
Used to this kind of stalling, the angel said, “If you must know what I mean, I’ll explain along the way. Now come with me, the judge waits.”
“No, I want you to explain now. I’m not sick, I should have many more years ahead of me, I don’t see why you’ve come calling now, and I demand some explanation for why I should die today.”
“As I said,” the angel began patiently, “you are too ungrateful to live. You need only ask the people in your own village, they see that you are rich, but they think you are a hard and irascible soul. When you pass through the village no one rejoices at your coming, and when you have gone, they’re glad to see the back of you. But even when you’ve gone you leave behind the residue of soured unhappiness. Yet, in spite of your character, you enjoy many blessings of possession and provision, but you’ve never shared any of it, and you have never, not once, lifted your eyes to God and said a single word of thanks to him for all that you have. Thus, you are too ungrateful to live. Come with me, be judged, and be done with what you have been so thoughtless of.”
“But I don’t want to die,” the man persisted.
“I don’t see that you want to live either,” replied the angel.
“But I do want to live.”
“You can’t go on living like this, it’s unnatural.”
“But I didn’t know there was any other way to live.”
“Nonsense,” scoffed the angel, “of course you do. Don’t you see the joy on the faces of the people you meet in the marketplace, walking along the village roads, even those you trade with? Recall how the children dance in the streets, and cry to one another as they play their games. Don’t you hear them, on the streets, and in their homes, and in their churches, offering thanks to God by their living, in thanks to God for the blessings of their lives? That’s life, and I doubt if you’ve ever lived a day in your life.”
“But I want to live now,” said the man. “Can’t you give me another chance?”
“I could, if I thought it would do you any good.”
“Oh, it would do good, it would,” said the man, “just tell me what I must do to live.”
“What you must do is to show some gratitude.”
In answer to the blank look on the man’s face, the angel continued, “Look, I will make a bargain with you. At least once a day, you must offer to God a word of thanks for some blessing in your life. You do that, and you may live. But beware, on the day you neglect to thank God for what he has given you, in that day I will come again, and then you must come with me without protest. I give you one day to make a beginning of being grateful.”
And with that, the man was suddenly all alone.
At first he was relieved that death had departed, but then he began to recall the angel’s hard, and to his way of thinking, unfair words. Who was death to call anyone else unpleasant? Death: now there’s an unpleasant fellow for you, and so the man’s defensiveness in the face of the perceived injustice of the angels carried him through to dinner time. And it was a complacent, self-righteous indignation that lulled the man to a fitful sleep.
On the morrow, all that transpired the evening before seemed an illusion. What on earth had he been imagining? He went about his usual and miserable routine with little more care about the angel until the afternoon began to wear on, and an uneasy thought began to assert itself. What if he hadn’t imagined the angel’s appearing after all? What if it was true? If he did not adhere to the terms of the bargain, wouldn’t the angel return? There would be no protest this time, the angel had said.
Now, what was it he had been told to do? Oh yes, say thank you to God for some small thing. Well, easy enough, especially in light of the consequences. What harm could come of it? Better safe than sorry, he thought. But, when it came to the doing of the thing, he drew an absolute blank. What on earth did he have to thank God for anyway? And so for some time he was stumped. He tried to form a thought, but even the words “thank you” seemed to c-catch in his throat. And thus the day wore on, until he noticed the sun begin to dip below the horizon. He began to sense a familiar and fearful presence, and in a moment of growing terror, fell on his knees and spat out these words: “God, I thank you that you have given me another chance to live.” And immediately, he felt the presence recede and he was utterly alone. But he knelt and trembled well past the setting of the sun. When it was very dark and grown quite cold he picked himself up, went back to his home, collapsed on his bed without any supper, and fell fast, fast asleep.
The next morning the man woke up to find the sun pouring through his bedroom window and he rose with a vigor he had not felt in some time. This did not have any material effect on his miserable routine except to lend a certain energy to it that felt like the growing edge of something uncomfortable. Happier men would have recognized it as gladness, but to this man it felt like a case of nerves. In any case, he thought to make a start at getting his thanksgiving over with for the day, but as his mind ranged over his life, he just couldn’t think of anything, and began to feel foolish that he was expending so much energy even trying. Wouldn’t it be better to die than to live under such an onerous obligation? But then he remembered the fear the angel instilled in him with his hard words about his state of being and so he began to think harder for something to say to God. Again, it was near sunset when he was finally able to blurt out, “Thank you God… for the day that is past!” The sun set, the man lived, he slept, he woke, he thought.
This new pattern of thought and thanksgiving inserted itself into his miserable routine to such an extent that it began to disrupt it. Rather than carelessness and indifference, his days passed in agitation and thoughtfulness, until evening came and having racked his brain throughout the day he would cry out a word of thanks for one thing or another. One day it was thanksgiving for a delicious dish of chicken, the next was for his wealth, or for much needed rain, or that he wasn’t sick, or that he was getting better after having been sick. Weeks and months passed in this state of agitated thankfulness.
And then something began to change, the hour in which he was able to recollect something to be grateful for began to creep back into the earlier part of the day. No longer was his thankfulness hastily spit out in the dying moments of the day, but began to come easier and earlier until it was almost his waking thought, and then in time it was his waking thought, and even more miraculous than all that was when thankfulness began to creep into his every thought. The transformation, though not immediate by any means, was constant and becoming habitual.
But the more time passed the less burdensome the obligation began to be felt. Strength and health in body and spirit returned to the man. He no longer stooped looking at the ground, but stood upright and began to notice the world around him.
Another curious thing was that the habit, when acquired, did not just affect the man’s routine of thought and deed, but began to affect those around him. The simple joy expressed on a child’s face brought a smile of gratitude to the man’s face that made the child’s radiate even brighter. Tradespeople in the market began to anticipate business with him not for profit in purse, but how it profited them inwardly. The man’s aspect grew infectious, brightening the paths he trod, and leaving behind him a residue of gladness for the simple joy of spending a moment in his company. The man was nourished by these interactions, and as his neighbors fed on his generosity and joy, he in turn was fed by their own joy and gratitude at being in his company.
And it was in this transformed manner of life that the man lived as years piled upon years until he found that he had grown into a very old man, though everyone would have agreed that he did not seem near as old as he was.
And then, on a given day, late in the evening, the man stopped along his way to rest on the stump of a tree. In spite of his stoop now induced by age alone, he looked around him, admiring and thanking God for glorious things like the beauty of the earth; that the Lord brought forth its increase; that God provided for his creatures out of this wonderful bounty, and then for the smaller things; the beauty of a small flower; for the coolness of the breeze on his neck; for the day the Lord had given him. He closed his eyes in silent prayer. Then suddenly, his prayers turned into a feeling, a long-forgotten, but remembered presence, and when he opened his eyes, there was an angel of death standing a few paces away. Before the angel had a chance to speak, the old man cried aloud, “Thank you Lord, for sending this old friend back to me; I have so longed to see his face again.”
The angel replied to this strange greeting, “I rejoice to see you welcome my appearing. You have made more of your life than I had hoped was possible. It has become good in every way, but now, brother, it is time for you to come and to meet your judge who I see now is your dearest friend.”
The old man wept, “I thank thee Lord that today I will see you face-to-face!”
It was at this moment that the angel realized some difficulty. Long, long ago he had struck a bargain with this man, that the day he neglected to thank God for some small blessing, on that day, he would surely die. But now the angel, because angels always keep their word, found himself bound by his own bargain.
At every suggestion that they must move on, the old man could not help himself but blessed death, and thanked God. At a loss of what to do then, the angel joined the man on the stump, and there they sat, long after dark, the angel suggesting that they please move on, and the man saying, “Thank you, yes, let’s do, and bless you.”
If a day in the year was set aside to make a beginning of being grateful, and that beginning was permitted to grow into a monthly, weekly, daily, hourly, minute-by-minute observance of gratitude for all God’s blessings, especially in and through our Lord Jesus Christ, what would each of our lives become in one another’s sight, and in the sight of our Father in heaven?
__________
Note: Many years ago I heard a folk tale about a man who postpones death by learning gratitude to God. I do not remember if its source was Jewish folklore or Eastern Christianity. Though I have sought the original story ever since, I have never been able to locate it. It was read aloud to me only once, and what appears here is my own reconstruction based on vague memory of the story’s central characters and theme. If anyone can direct me to the original tale, I would be grateful.
