Thank God!

Luke 23:33-43; Col. 1:11-20

 

        When I was a child, Thanksgiving was a big deal. First, it was a three day school week. I eventually grew to love the vigor of the academic challenge…..somewhere around my last year in college, but as a kid, I viewed school as an unnecessary evil. Second, Thanksgiving meant a trip to Waynesboro where I got to hang out with my favorite cousin. I grew up in a family with three younger sisters. Having another guy around for a day or two was heaven on earth. Third and most important was the food. Between my mom and Aunt Evelyn there was always a table so bountiful left- overs lasted for days and no one ever complained. At the conclusion of the feast my cousin and I would head back outside till dark, burning off calories and readying ourselves to devour more turkey and pie. On reentering the kitchen I would notice two aged women who vaguely resembled my mother and aunt. I would wonder why they seemed so tired and burdened on this festive day. Now, nearly 60 years later, as Deb and I joyously anticipate the arrival of a boat load of family, I suspect Deb will have the same glazed look on her face come Thursday evening. Through the years I have come to understand a full appreciation of Thanksgiving begins by giving gratitude to those who are weary and burdened.

        You know the story of the first Thanksgiving? Oh, I am not talking about the feast at Plymouth Rock or even an earlier celebration in Jamestown. I am talking about the one that happened years before America was inhabited by any Europeans. I am speaking of the conversation between two men suspended against both the sky and time as one said to the other, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

        Our crucifixion text seems so out of place as we prepare to stuff both the turkey and ourselves in the coming days, but this morning is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday before Advent. Christ the King Sunday and the texts that compliment it often seem in conflict with our celebrating Thanksgiving. On the surface, what does a conversation between two condemned men have to do with giving thanks? Perhaps there is none. Yet if you will allow me to take what some might characterize as an inappropriate hermeneutical leap, I believe there is an unmistakable intersection to be discovered.

        Who was the man being crucified with Jesus? We really don’t know yet his identity is more complicated than one might suspect. While the ethics of the Old Testament reflects an eye for an eye mentality, it was almost impossible for a person to be put to death under rabbinical law. The first reason was theological. Life is sacred.  To take the life of another was considered to be against the will of God. Second, the taking of a life was impractical. Jewish law is based on reimbursement. If I kill the husband of a family and am executed, who is going to be responsible for the financial welfare of the family?  It is explicit   in the Talmud that the one committing a crime must be punished in a way that compensates the family.

        Therefore, we can conclude the man hanging beside Jesus was being punished by Roman rather than local law.  Perhaps he stole from the Romans and his punishment sent a message to the general population. Perhaps he was a revolutionary plotting the overthrow of Roman occupation. Perhaps he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe the man deserved to die. Certainly he was not innocent for he admitted guilt. It hardly matters. He looked to his left and saw the shell of a burdened, yet innocent man suffering his same fate and he asked to be remembered.

        A few years ago I walked into the sanctuary of an ancient Presbyterian church located in Eastern North Carolina. In the center of the sanctuary was an old mahogany communion table. From a distance there seemed to be nothing remarkable about the table, but as I moved closer I could see the carved words, “Remember Me”.

        Those words, certainly in the context of communion, have a double meaning. When I break the bread and lift the cup I often use the word, “Remember”. Certainly I am asking us to remember the sacrifice of Christ. But when we come to the table, like that not so innocent passenger on the train to paradise, don’t we also desperately need to be remembered. Then once we realize…or remember…the restorative power of God’s grace, we give thanks. 

        Isn’t this the very purpose of Thanksgiving? It is a day when we take a break from our routine to remember, and then respond to the generosity of another. Looking back to the settlers of either Plymouth Rock or Jamestown, no feast would have occurred without remembering both the graciousness of God and the sacrifice of those who did not make it to the table. For without the sacrifice of the tired and the burdened, is a day of Thanksgiving even possible?

        An unknown man, stranded between heaven and earth, saw something holy in the burdened face of Jesus. And a blessing was received. A hungry family, anxious to dig into a meal over which they did little to prepare, sees something  saintly in the tired face of the one responsible for the feast. And a blessing is received.

        I am hopeful this Thursday, before the first plate is served, we will all bow our heads and give thanks to God. Such thanks are richly warranted. Much sacrifice was offered in the preparation of our taste of paradise. As you pray, do not forget the one who made the feast possible through her labor of love. As we pray, do not forget the one who made paradise possible through his labor of love. Each time we pray together, allow our prayers to remember the weary and the burdened that have made all that is good possible. By doing so, you too will be remembered.