Matthew 6:25-33
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow, nor reap, nor gather into barns and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin and yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you – you of little faith?”
“Therefore, do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ for it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all of these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well.”
We just need to be reminded, sometimes, right? Reminded to do this, to do that, to say this, NOT to say that. My calendar reminds me 10 minutes before a scheduled meeting is about to begin. I got no less than half-a-dozen reminders that I was supposed to drive my son to a doctor’s appointment this morning. (My family’s faith in me is remarkable.)
Of course, at Thanksgiving I think about how much time we spend reminding kids to say “please” and “thank you,” to send “thank you” notes, to BE grateful, to appreciate what they have, to count their blessings. And none of that changes just because we’re older. We still need reminders and nudges and opportunities to do the same – to count our blessings, to be grateful, and to say so, I mean. Which is what this evening and this week and our lives, really, as followers of Jesus are all about … being reminded about that for which we are grateful, finding ways to share that gratitude, and realizing that it matters, deeply, for us and for the world.
In that first reading in Joel that we just heard, from sometime around 400 BCE (give or take), the prophet could have been talking to you and me, really. The people of Israel had endured a plague – not of COVID-19 – but of locusts that threatened their land, their livelihood, their way of life. And the prophet called the people to hope, called them to patience, called them to a longer view and a greater memory about the power of God’s love for them, in spite of the suffering and struggle they had endured.
I’m not sure what to think about things since last Thanksgiving, where our own “plague” is concerned. Things seem different … better … on-the-mend, in some ways … more hopeful, perhaps. Last year, my family didn’t make our annual pilgrimage to northwest Ohio to be with my in-laws. Instead, we – the Havels on Redbird Trail – stayed in Indiana, and traded food with my parents a mile away. We were still quarantining, so I mean we traded food and went our separate ways. We didn’t actually get to sit down, break bread, pass the food around, or pray together. We’ll do all of that in a couple of days, but we’ll be staying in Indiana, since people are sick with fevers and whatnot over in Ohio.
Still, we have blessings to count. We still have to be careful, but there is science and there are vaccines and boosters, too. We are worshiping this evening, in-person and online, which we couldn’t do last year, and things are better than they were, thanks to all of that. Our God has done great things… Our God has dealt wondrously with us… We shall eat in plenty and be satisfied… the Lord is our God and there is no other.
We need reminders of that from time to time.
And in that bit from First Timothy, the early church was reminded of some things, too. They were called to pray on behalf of – and in gratitude for – all people, all people: leaders and kings, Gentiles and Jesus followers alike, understanding that God is, indeed, the God of all people.
We need reminders of that from time to time, too.
In many of the gatherings I’m a part of lately – especially if they have something to do with racial equity and justice, but not always – it’s becoming a thing to acknowledge the indigenous, native peoples who lived on the land wherever we might be gathering, by naming them.
It’s an effort to honor those people, in spite of how poorly they may have been treated in so many instances. It’s an expression of gratitude, for those who have gone before and for whatever wisdom and relationship may have been shared along the way, or learned about since. And I feel like it’s an act of repentance, too, for whatever hurt and harm was done by one group of people to another over the course of human history, such as it is.
I think it’s something like the “supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings to be made for everyone,” which God’s people were asked to do in that reading from First Timothy.
So, because our national Thanksgiving holiday is so often wrapped up in fictional, warm and fuzzy fairy tales about the early days of our history with the indigenous peoples who lived on this land long before the Europeans showed up, I thought it would be meaningful to acknowledge and give thanks for and name the Lenape tribe of Indians. Indiana means “the land of the Indians,” after all, and the Lenape lived in east central Indiana, in this neck of the woods, from the 1790s into the early 1820s when, under the Treaty of St. Mary’s, they gave up their land and were forced to migrate west to Kansas, and then Oklahoma.
So cheers, gratitude, prayers and supplications to the Lenape – and to the Shawnee and the Miami and the Potawatomi, too – for those who have gone before us; who tended to and cared for and lived on this holy ground; who were and who are Children of God, just like you and me, wherever they find themselves, and wherever they are found by their creator … these days and into eternity.
It’s good to be reminded from time to time.
Which brings us to the Gospel for this evening. In Matthew 6 – with all those reminders about how and why we shouldn’t worry – Jesus is speaking as someone who loves his people – his friends, his family, his followers, and all of creation – and as someone who wants the best for them, for it, for us.
So the thanksgiving we’re called to as followers of Jesus is meant to be more than just a discipline or a chore – certainly not just an annual extravaganza around a table overflowing with our favorite food and crowded with some of our favorite people – or not-so favorite people, if that’s a pickle for you on Thursday.
The thanksgiving Jesus calls us to is meant to be a daily blessing for our lives – one that does a good work through us and for us, by putting our struggles into perspective; by putting our lives into balance; by helping us to see what is good and righteous in our midst, even if we are surrounded by so much to the contrary, too.
Because our thanksgiving, in Jesus, reminds us that we are blessed in spite of what can be so hard in this world. We are made strong through our weakness. We are rich when we are poor. We receive when we give. We are promised new life, even in the face of death. We just need to be reminded of that from time to time – and remember that we are changed for the better, by the thanks we give, when we do.
Amen. Happy Thanksgiving.
