Thanksgiving
Psalm 103
When I was four years old, my family
moved from Georgia to Greensboro. I
have many stories in my collective consciousness concerning Georgia, but all
were learned from hearing tales around the dinner table. My family, especially my father loved to tell
stories. Like most families we heard the
stories so many times dad would start and we could finish it from memory. The good news is my father’s stories were not
limited to his experiences. He had and
still has a keen understanding of history.
So on days like Thanksgiving we would be given a full recitation of the
all the events surrounding Plymouth Rock.
Once I asked, “Did our ancestors come to the New World on the
Mayflower?” He would shake his head and
say, “No, we arrived on a different boat, but we should still give thanks to
God.”
When I was nine, my family moved to
Hampton, Virginia. Dad had spent part of
his childhood in Martinsville so this sparked a whole new set of stories. Exploratory trips were taken to Williamsburg,
Yorktown, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, Appomattox and Mitchie Tavern. On Thanksgiving, the stories reverted from
Plymouth Rock to Jamestown. I can remember Dad telling us about those
Virginians who gave thanks to God 14 years before the arrival of the Pilgrims. He would brag that Myles Standish had nothing
on John Smith and those 108 hardy settlers who arrived in 1607. We visited the settlement, and dad took us
aboard the replicas of the Susan Constant, Godspeed and the Discovery. I figured one of these ships must have been
my family’s transportation from England to the New Colonies so again I asked,
“Were these my ancestors?” Again he
responded, “No, we arrived on a different boat, but we should still give thanks
to God.”
At some point in time I figured my
father had information with which he was not quite willing to divulge. But I was persistent. “Dad, what boat brought us to America?” He looked at me and said, “We are from
Georgia. Our story is not quite as heroic
as John Smith or the Pilgrims. Then Dad took a deep breath and shared the narrative
of our heritage. In the 1729 an
Englishmen named James Oglethorpe had a friend die of smallpox in a debtor’s
prison. Oglethorpe decided there had to be a better solution than prison for
folks who had stepped outside the law.
With the help of George I, Oglethorpe established a colony at the
present site of Savannah. The site was
made up exclusively of inmates from English and Scottish prisons. These men and their families worked off their
debts as indentured servants. Once the
debt was paid they were given parcels of land in the new established colony of
Georgia.
After hearing the story I asked if he
knew what my ancestor’s crimes might have been.
He smiled and said, “They were Highland Scots. I imagine they were sheep thieves, but they still
gave thanks to God.”
Today on the eve of Thanksgiving, we each
claim stories concerning the boats our ancestors sailed to reach this land. Perhaps there is someone here who can trace
their linage back to Jamestown or Plymouth Rock. Maybe your ancestors and mine shared dried
fish and hardtack on their way to Savannah.
Possibly your ancestors rejoiced on seeing the Statute of Liberty rising
out of New York Harbor. We all have
friends whose ancestors cursed the loss of liberty when they entered Charleston
Harbor in chains. We lie to ourselves if
we think the glory of national endeavors out weighs the shame of our corporate sins. It is all part of our history. And history serves little purpose when told
incorrectly.
Our
ancestors arrived at this place by a variety of boats. Many crossed an Ocean; some crossed the
desert; a few where already here before the boats arrived. We all have heard our unique stories around
the dinner table. But today, despite our
different histories, our boats have docked at this place to give thanks to God.
I
look out at this wonderful group who has gathered to sing and give thanks. You make this place sacred by your
presence. Not only do we come from different
lands, we come from a variety of different denominations. Baptist and Methodist
have docked their boats, here, to praise God, together. Catholics and Pentecostals have docked their
boats, here, to praise God, together.
Episcopalians and Lutherans have docked their boats, here, to praise God
together. Presbyterians, Unitarians,
Church of Christ have docked their boats, here, to praise God, together. If I have overlooked someone I know you will
forgive me because today we have not come to be recognized, we have come that
God may be glorified. We have not come
to sing our praise, we have come to sing God’s praise. We have come to fill our hearts. We have come to be together. We came that we might
give thanks to God.
How
appropriate that on this eve of thanksgiving, this service of praise, this service
of remembrance, we should be regaled with words of the 103rd
Psalm. “Bless the Lord O my soul, and
all that is within bless God’s Holy name. Bless
the Lord O my soul and all that is within me give thanks for God’s grace.” Today; together as one; we dare to lift our
voices in praise and thanksgiving to:
The
God who forgives,
The
God who heals,
The
God who redeems,
The
God who offers steadfast love and mercy.”
Today;
together as one; we dare to lift our voices in praise and thanksgiving to:
God,
who
saved the Pilgrims from the harshness of winter;
God,
who
revived the Virginians from the dismay of disease;
God,
who
rescued the Georgians from the disgrace of prison;
God,
who
offered safe harbor for anyone seeking freedom.
Today,
together as one;
We
dare to lift our voices in praise and thanksgiving to:
God,
who
abhorrers and eradicates human bondage;
God,
who
offers a path in the wilderness to the sojourner;
God,
who
responds to the cries of the oppressed;
God,
who
restores exiles to the land of their birth.
We
arrived on different boats,
But today, together as one, we
give thanks to God.
Our histories and our stories are
different. To quote our President, “We
are the sons and daughters of the faceless men and woman, farmers and slaves,
tailors and butchers, soldiers and sailors, who labored, constructing lives for
themselves, their children, and their grandchildren, brick by brick, rail by
rail, calloused hand by calloused hand, dreaming of ways to perfect our
imperfect union.”
We arrived on different boats,
But
today, together as one, we give thanks to God.
The
Psalmist warns us that our days are like grass,
We will flourish like the flowers of the
field,
We will disappear with the
fickleness of the wind.
Assyria
has come and gone.
Babylon has come and gone.
Greece, Rome, the Ottoman and
British Empires
Have come, and are gone.
The United
States has come,
And one
day it will be gone,
But
the steadfastness of the Lord,
is
from everlasting to everlasting.
We
came on different boats,
But today, together as one, we give
thanks to God.
Bless
the Lord, O my soul,
May God’s grace give us grace.
Bless
the Lord, O my soul,
May God’s Hope give us Hope.
Bless
the Lord, O my soul,
May God’s Love give us Love.
Bless
the Lord, O may soul.
My
the God of Grace, Hope and Love,
Bind
us together,
In
this one boat,
As today,
We
give thanks to God.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment