“Rejoice” based on Deuteronomy 26:1-11 and Philippians 4:4-9

November 20, 2022
by Sara Baron

I think gratitude is one of the
most important parts of our spiritual lives. I’ve experienced this,
AND I’ve seen the research, and I love it when both are true.

The challenge is, I’m not sure
what I have to say about gratitude that is new, and I’m rather afraid
of being trite. This tends to be my problem when I encounter
scriptures I rather agree with, rather than ones I can have a good
debate with. But, I’ve found time and time again that a conversation
with scriptures can take me to unexpected places, so let’s see where
they lead today.

We can start with Philippians.
With that lovely repetition to “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I
will say, Rejoice.” (4:4) I am always moved by the people I meet
who are living out this commandment. The ones attending to the good
God is doing, and speaking it with joy. The ones focused on joy, and
rejoicing, and celebrating God’s goodness.

I also love the next line,
inviting people to “let your gentleness be known.” That sounds
like the highest of callings, to be known by gentleness. I have
known some people to whom that description would apply, and it is a
gift simply to be in their presence. Their very self-hood changes
the world around them for the better.

But then we get to “don’t
worry, trust God.” And while it is very good advice, it is very
difficult to apply. Especially because the world isn’t fair. But
then again, those who I’ve known who live this are often the ones
with the least amount of worldly goods, who say they trust God
because God has provided. So, maybe I don’t actually know that much
about this, and I simply have a lot to learn.

Then, focus on the good. This
is the one that meets me where I am right now. This is the one
that calls for my attention, my reflection, my sharing. So, here we
are and here we are going to stay. In Paul’s words, “Finally,
beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just,
whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if
there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise,
think about these things.” (4:8)

Maybe it is because of the work
I do, but it often occurs to me that the resource I spend the most
time managing is my attention. This isn’t just about if I give my
attention to the good stuff or the hard stuff.

The daily questions start with:
Do I respond first to this email, or that one? To email or phone
calls? To texts or facebook messenger? Do I end this conversation
because I have a meeting, or do I make space for this because it is
more important? When do I know I’ve found the right poem, or hymn,
or sermon example and it is time to move on, or maybe it isn’t good
enough yet and I could keep searching. Which book should I read
next? Do I have time to read? Should I go visiting? Which
committee asked me which thing to follow up on? Which one of those
things needs the most immediate response? Which one of those things
will take the most preparation? Is reading the news important so I
know what is going on, or is it a distraction to what is REALLY going
on with God and God’s people? Do all of the staff have what they
need from me to do their jobs well? Is it OK to just sit and be with
God before I try to balance any of these things?

(If you found that list
overwhelming, please note that it applies ONLY to my work life, and
doesn’t even touch on other parts of my life. Also, if you found
that overwhelming, I’d appreciate knowing how you make such
decisions, cause it sounds like you may have wisdom I need.)

That last question about
sitting with God and just being before I try any of the things,
that’s the key one for me. I’ve known since my early twenties
that I’m at my best when I get quiet time with God, but I’ve
struggled to allow myself to have the thing I need when other things
also clamor for my time and attention. Someone recently asked me,
“if I already know what I need in order to be the best pastor and
person I can be, why am I not doing it?” And in the question, I
was thus reminded that connecting with God, and being centered, is
the thing that makes all the rest of what I do valuable, and it is in
EVERYONE’S best interest for me to nurture my connection with the
Holy and to have space to hear my own wisdom (even when the wisdom is
hidden under my fears.)

So, I’ve been doing it. Not
perfectly, but waaaayyyy more. Sometimes I still feel guilty.
Because I could be using my time and attention for so many other
things! But, I’m pushing through the guilt.

And the results have been
interesting. Mostly because my capacity to see the beauty of the
world, the wonder of people, and the mysterious goodness at hand has
changed. Being quiet in the morning (most mornings), softens me. It
slows me down. And it makes things easier. I’m get hurt less
easily. I have empathy closer at hand. I can see details and the
big picture, at the same time, with more ease. I’m just less
overwhelmed.

But the best part is being able
to see wonder again. I’m awed by text messages from people, because
they so often contain wisdom and I’m able to be thankful. The other
day – please don’t judge – I saw a dust particle floating in a
stream of sunshine and it was beautiful, and I had ENTIRELY forgotten
that dust can be awe inspiring and beautiful. I’m a little more
flexible (don’t expect immediate miracles people), which makes
everything flow easier in … well, parenting, and being a partner,
and in being a pastor.

For me, the key to being able to
bring my attention to “whatever is true, whatever is honorable,
whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is
commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything
worthy of praise” isn’t in just trying harder to focus on
the good things. For me, at least, the way to bring my attention to
the good is to attend to what I need to be whole, and then the rest
flows.

Now, some of you are great at
letting yourselves have the things you need. I commend you, and
apologize for this mostly useless sermon as far as you are concerned.
However, for a wide range of reasons (including “capitalism”) a
whole lot of us aren’t great at letting ourselves have what we need.
Sometimes there are external factors that make it hard (or
impossible.) But often, there are internal ones. I can tell you
that I believe God wants you to have your needs met. I can tell you
that if you stop fighting what you need as too much, or too selfish,
or unreasonable, or … whatever you tell yourself… that other
goodness flows from letting yourself get what you need.

Now, I continue to believe I’m
likely not alone in needing quiet time with God, but I also think
that my need is a little different than other people’s. This week I
was given the gift of a GREAT descriptor of this church as a group of
people who love kinetic prayer. That is, many of us around here NEED
to give back. Some people NEED to hear gorgeous music and just feel
the wonder of it in their bodies. Some people NEED to move in nature
or their souls start to shrivel up. Some people NEED connections
with others, regularly. (I think we all do, but more so for
extroverts.) Some people NEED to create. I can’t tell you what you
need, but I suspect you already know.

The key is to let God help you
whittle away at the internal barriers to allowing yourself to
prioritize what you need.

So, a quick hot take on
Deuteronomy. This is the story of God giving the people what they
need. Land to work, food to eat, homes to settle into. And the
people give back to God of what they have. That is, they RECIEVE the
gifts of God, and they give back from what they have RECIEVED.

Maybe I’m wrong, and maybe it’s
just me, and if so I’m sorry for wasting your time but I’m really
happy for you. That is, maybe I’m the only one still struggling to
receive God’s good gifts, and let myself have what I need. If not
though. If you still struggle too, may this be a moment of
assurance. We have to receive what God gives us before we do
anything else with it. It is hard, TRUST ME I KNOW, but God wants
goodness for you.

Please don’t stand in God’s way.

And when you let God’s good
gifts fill you up, the gratitude comes on its own. And it is
amazing. May you see it too. Amen

November 20, 2022

Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

Uncategorized

“Giving Thanks – 2020 Style” based on Deuteronomy 8:7-18…

November 22, 2020
by Sara Baron

Growing
up, we had big Thanksgivings. It was the holiday set aside for my
mother’s side of the family, and she is one of 5 siblings who have a
combined 11 offspring. The holiday moved around between their
houses, with 20-30 of us gathered however we would fit. There was
definitely a kid’s table, and I was always at it. It was loud,
chaotic, and intense. As a child that meant a lot of play, a lot of
playmates, and a lot of fun. I’m told there were also a lot of
dishes. Because it was the only time we got together, there were
Christmas presents too, and because it was the only time we got
together, there was plenty of family drama too.

I loved
those big Thanksgivings.

My
first year of seminary, in California, I decided not to fly home for
the short break. Instead a dear friend from college – also from
the northeast, also living in California, came down to be with me.
The two of us stayed in pajamas all day, read for pleasure, and ate
what we wanted when we wanted to. There was no turkey, because she
was vegetarian. I was happy to cook. She was happy to clean up. We
grazed on pies, side dishes, laughter, and books all day.

That
was the day I learned that holidays don’t have to be stressful.

This
year, a lot fewer people are going to have the big, loud, messy
Thanksgivings. I hope this year more people will have surprisingly
lovely small, quiet, unstressful ones.

However,
I know there is a lot of real grief in being separated from those we
love. This has already been a difficult year, and coming into the
holiday season, it is especially difficult. When we stopped having
in person worship in March, I wasn’t able to REALLY believe we’d have
to do Easter from our homes. You may remember that we decided to
“just wait until we could be in person” to do the Easter
photoshow. (Submissions are still being received on that basis.)

As time
went on, I became aware we weren’t going to get back together before
I went out on Family Leave, and started to hope to be together for
Homecoming.

Now it
is November, we aren’t having worship in person again in 2020, and
people are figuring out how to celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas, and
New Years over zoom. Christmas worship planning involves a lot of
pre-recording. The church’s advent wreath is staying upstairs this
year, while the amazing Altar Guild made us at home ones so we can
wait in hope together … but apart.

Now it
is Thanksgiving week and giving thanks has gotten a lot more
complicated than we’d like.

I’m not
sure we identify with the leper who gave thanks nor the lepers who
don’t. As a society at least, I think we feel like the lepers who
weren’t healed, the ones not in the story, the ones who didn’t happen
to meet Jesus that day.

Or, in
the metaphor of the Hebrew Bible Lesson, it doesn’t feel like we are
living in the goodness of the Promised Land. Perhaps it feels like
we’re still wandering in the desert, perhaps like we’re still living
in oppression in Egypt. Maybe like we lost the promise and are in
exile.

The
opening words of Psalm 137 may meet us in this moment:

By the
rivers of Babylon—
   there we sat down and there
we wept
   when we remembered Zion.
On the
willows there
   we hung up our harps.
For
there our captors
   asked us for songs,
and our
tormentors asked for mirth, saying,
   ‘Sing us
one of the songs of Zion!’

How
could we sing the Lord’s song
in a foreign
land?

How can we sing praises
when things are so HARD?

How can we celebrate
Thanksgiving when fear, death, and destruction surround us?

Sure, we can participate in
Advent, and name how much we NEED God, and how much we are WAITING
for things to be better.

But, how can we celebrate
God’s breaking-into-the-world (Christmas) when we are still in the
yearning?

And, dear ones, if you are
overwhelmed, sad, grieving, weary, lonesome, annoyed, or exhausted, I
don’t think you are over-reacting. Things are HARD, and there is no
end in sight.

By the rivers of Babylon
(which, it is clear, are the WRONG Rivers, they are not the River
Jordan), there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered.

These words may be a model
for us. It is OK to sit in grief and remember what was. It is OK to
be horrified by what is. It is OK to not like any of this, at all,
and be angry to be stuck in it. It is OK, even to be sad that “at
least the exiles got to cry TOGETHER, we have to cry apart.”

That’s fair.

It cheapens gratitude to be
forced into it, and it cheapens gratitude to come to it without also
naming the things that are broken and hard and awful. It cheapens
gratitude to tell ourselves that others have it worse, so we don’t
get to be sad or mad. It isn’t a competition. The pandemic is
allowed to be hard for everyone.

So, this is my proposal, my
suggestion, my “means of grace for this week.” I invite you to
take an HOUR to sit down with your accumulated grief from this year.
You may want to write it out as a long list, you may want to journal
it, you may want to draw it, or paint it, or play it on the piano,
walk it out, or just sit with it. Do this on or by Wednesday. If
you can’t get an hour, take 6 minutes. If you complete and hour and
you aren’t done, give yourself more time.

But, BE WITH your grief.
Let it live and breath and exist. I know for some of us, it is scary
and it feels like we will break if you even start to let it out, but
you won’t. You are stronger than you think and you are held up by
the God of Love. (How else would you have made it this far?)

Then, and only then, I
invite you to spend some time on Thanksgiving reflecting on what you
are grateful for. Ideally, I’d say give this an hour as well, but
maybe only 6 minutes can be found, and maybe it will take all day.
Don’t skip this part though. Some of the things we are grateful for
are sly – and if we don’t look for them, we might miss them. This
process won’t work unless you can name your grief, but it also won’t
work if you ONLY name your grief.

I know and trust that God
is with us, that God is doing amazing things, that God is at work to
make things better. But I don’t believe in cheap grace. We can’t
pretend the hard away, and we can’t keep pushing through it. We may
be a resurrection people, but that requires acknowledging the things
of death first.

THEN we get to notice the
amazing power of life.

So, I wish you a wonderful,
if unusual Thanksgiving. And, because of that I wish you an hour to
grieve and an hour to be grateful. May you feel God’s presence in
both times of prayerful reflection. Amen

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

Sermons

“Lillies of the Field” based on Joel 2:21-27 and Matthew…

November 18, 2018February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

A few years ago, at a retreat entitled “Courage to Lead,” we did an exercise called “soft eyes.” We learned it in a very physical way. We were put in groups of threes, one person was to stand tall, and the other two knelt on the ground, holding onto the standing person’s hands. We tried it three ways. The first way, the people kneeling pulled as hard as they could to pull the person down, and the standing person fought it as hard as they could. The second way, the people kneeling pulled as hard as they could to pull the person down, and the standing person let them. The third way, however, was neither fighting nor giving in. In the third way, the people kneeling pulled as hard as they could to pull the person down and the person standing allowed the pulling – without fighting it nor giving in to. In that case, it felt like those pulling on my arms were helping me stretch. While I’d fallen both of the first two times, the third time it was pretty easy to stay on my feet. It felt like mountain pose in yoga – strong and steady.

The exercise, were told afterward, was really meant to be a metaphor about our choices in how we respond to others. We can look and listen with judgement and fight other as they tell their stories; we can receive other people’s stories without reflection or connection; OR we can allow another person’s story to be their truth and something that reflects truths in us. We can learn from and grow with another person, simply by listening to them, in the same way that other people pulling on me could feel like a stretch instead of like an attack. Soft eyes see, but see without to judging.

If I were to take a guess at what meaning is really at the core of the Gospel Lesson today, it would be the message of soft eyes. But to explain WHY, we need to start with Joel. That passage contains words of comfort and hope, of ease and restoration. But, if you listened carefully there is only one theme: a promise of enough food. The soil will rejoice, the animals will be able to eat green grass, the trees will bear fruit, the vines will yield grapes, the rain will come and let the crops grow – and it will come at the right times. The central promise is, verbatim, “”The threshing floors shall be full of grain, the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.” Or, in other words, “there will be enough food.” While there is plenty of metaphorical value in these words, I suspect their first meaning is quite literal.

Food, and food in abundance, in the ancient world, meant life. For the people trying to live after the exile, when what they had known was destroyed, the idea of a return to good life almost meant a vision of the land being able to be productive again. It meant a restoration of a stable, sustainable life. In some ways I find this passage shocking, when I realize that the whole dream of comfort and goodness is simply “you’ll be able to eat!” In fact, it says that the capacity to eat, and eat enough, is the reason that the people will trust in and praise God. “You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the LORD your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.”

The idea here is that if you have food, God is with you, and if you don’t have food God isn’t. I don’t agree with this premise, but I CERTAINLY see how people could come to that conclusion. And, it helps us understand the oddities of our Gospel passage.

We need to look at the Gospel Lesson on its own first. I’m struck by the difference presented within the Gospel lesson between the natural world and human society. The examples of creatures whose well-being is cared for by God are from the natural world: birds, lilies, grasses. They’re complimented, they’re functional, they’re cared for. The birds don’t have to hoard food because they keep on finding enough. There is a subtle contrast with human societies that have the capacity grow and store food. There should be an abundance of food, yet the people are hungry.

The second natural example, it also ends up being a bit of a critique of human society. The lilies of the field don’t work for their lives, they don’t make cloth, “they neither toil nor spin.” Yet the epitome of wealth and wisdom in Jewish history – Solomon himself, wasn’t able to use all the wealth and all the knowledge he had to make himself as beautiful as those flowers who don’t work at it all, nor seek to acquire wealth. The lily is a regular symbol of beauty in the Bible. In Song of Songs the beloved is compared to a lily among brambles. When the Bible tells us of Solomon building the temple, (1 Kings 7), lilies were used to decorate the space. Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like a lily, and he seemed to know it! He valued their beauty!

The final natural example in Matthew is that of the “grasses of the field.” I can hear in them the refrain from Ecclesiastes, that “all is vanity and chasing after the wind.” Ecclesiastes has a lot to say about work, toil, food, and drink, including a fairly well known passage , “What gain have the workers from their toil? I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. [God] has made everything suitable for its time; moreover [God] has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil.” (3:9-13) It to me seems like Jesus may be continuing that conversation here!

What does it mean when workers toil, and yet do not have enough to eat and drink, to be clothed, or to take pleasure in life? What does it mean when people are stuck in the needs of the present and therefore can’t give any attention to the future? And what does it mean, in the midst of those challenges, to hear Jesus say, “don’t worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink , or about your body, what you will wear?”

Bruce Malina and Richard Rohrbaugh, in “The Social-Science Comment on the Synoptic Gospels” point out that “For members of any culture (such as the United States), to have a future orientation requires that all one’s present needs be consistently taken care of. Such was never the experience of the preindustrial peasant.”¹ The people Jesus was in ministry with were people who usually did NOT have enough – they were people whose circumstances were dire. Most people did not have enough to eat, many people died earlier than they would have otherwise because of malnutrition.

It is a really weird thing to say “don’t worry about food” to people for whom staying alive means figuring out how to acquire enough bread “not to worry about food.” It seems like the equivalent of saying to a person who is homeless “not to worry about money.” But, I don’t think that Jesus is callous or unfeeling. So, while he is SAYING that, I don’t think it is likely to be his final point.

Thus, I wonder, WHY is Jesus telling people not to worry? Is the purpose of “don’t worry” really that you can’t change it anyway, so it isn’t worth the effort to worry? Or, is the purpose of “don’t worry” that anxiety is simply counter-productive? And/or is the purpose of “don’t worry” that moving out of the status quo and into creative solutions requires the letting go of fear and anxiety? Is Jesus telling people not to worry because worry keeps them from getting what they need???

I think so. ( I might hope so.) I think Jesus wanted the people to have enough to eat, but he thought the best way to make that happen was for them to work collaboratively, and being collaborative requires some letting go. Jesus is saying that worrying isn’t helping, “can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” He also says that worrying is the way of the world. He asks his followers to do something else entirely, to work for the kindom instead of working for the necessities of life.

This is where the soft eyes come back in. I think the people were working WITH ALL THEIR MIGHT to survive. The common misconception of this passage would be the opposite of that – that people are to be entirely passive and wait for God to act on their behalf. But I think Jesus is really talking about a middle way. Jesus is telling the people not to worry, and not to be passive, but to work together for everyone’s good – with God.

As a reminder, he kindom is the goal of Christian faith. It is what we are working towards, and what we believe God is working towards in the world. It is a time and a place of abundance. Perhaps today it would make sense to think of it as staring with Joel’s vision of soil, water, trees, vines, and grains that produce enough for everyone to be satiated. But the vision actually goes further. It is not just food that is abundant and distributed so that all have enough, but also clothing and shelter, healthcare and human connection, meaning and purposeful work, comfort and hope. The kindom comes when we treat each other as beloved children of God, and work towards a world when all have enough to be satiated in all of our needs.

This week, as we celebrate Thanksgiving in the US, we remember a historical example of the sort of generosity that can build the kindom. The early European settlers of Massachusetts Bay Colony had not learned enough to about this land to have food in abundance, but the Native Americans shared what they had to feed those who didn’t have enough. Because of the food they shared, that day and that winter, the colonists survived, and because they survived we remember their generosity on Thanksgiving.

There are other ways to respond. We are not stuck with only the choices of fighting for survival, or passively giving up. We are not stuck with the choices of listening to the 24 hour news cycle or simply staying in bed and ignoring the world. There are middle ways! One of the most powerful is gratitude. When we feel stuck, (and a lot of us feel stuck a lot of the time) we can notice what there is to be grateful for – and there is almost always a lot! It pulls us out of false binaries and into the complicated possibilities of life – gratitude works to soften our eyes and let God and humanity in. Thanks be. Amen!

1 Bruce J. Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003) “Textual Notes: Matthew 6:19-7:6” p. 50.

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

November 18, 2018

Sermons

“Noticing What Has Gone Well” based on Deuteronomy 8:7-18

November 20, 2017February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

As far as I can tell, gratitude is imperative to a holistic spiritual life. It might be the most important component. While this is something we know intuitively, recent research has emphasized its importance. Gratitude practices can change our perspectives, lighten our moods, and help us feel more at peace in the world. (This seems good, right? We might need this, especially now.)

One of you had a friend who had a wonderful practice: every day she took a moment to write down the thing she was most grateful for on a slip of paper and put it in a vase. On New Year’s Eve she read them, one by one, and reflected on her year. I love the double blessing of this: both the practice of paying attention each day and the opportunities to review the good parts of a year.

At the core, I am aware of two very different motivations for faith. It seems to me that many people are motivated by fear, and that sort of religion has never been interesting to me. The other choice seems to be a motivation of gratitude: that because of being loved by God, and being grateful, we choose to love in return (because that’s what God asks of us.)

Indeed, I think gratitude is at the very core of faith itself. Which is why I want to spend today looking at its ugly underbelly. Gratitude matters too much to be blind to how it can be misused.

The Deuteronomy text gives us a way to look at some of the underside of gratitude. This is a text suggested for the celebration of Thanksgiving Day in the United States, and it cuts off the chapter two verses from the end. When it is read as suggested, it makes some important points. Like the rest of the book of Deuteronomy, this text is concerned about the complacency that comes with wealth and well-being.

The idea is that the people learned to depend on God in the desert, when all they had to eat was manna, and even access to water limited and based on God’s will. (This is their story, I might choose to tell it differently, but it is their story.) Once they got into the land with its abundances of gifts, they might forget that they are just as dependent on God in the Promised Land as they were in the desert. From manna to wheat and barley, vines and fig trees and pomegranates, olive trees, and honey and an abundance of water! As Ronald Clements puts it in the New Interpreter’s Bible, “It is precisely this richness and abundance that is seen as a temptation to forget God and the divine commandments.”¹ Or, as Walter Brueggemann puts it in his commentary on Deuteronomy, “A gift kept long enough begins to seem like a possession.”²

The text is deeply concerned that having access to wealth will lead the people to think they’ve earned the good lives they have, and that it will lead them away from God. Now, I think Deuteronomy is concerned about complacency because of the Exile. That is, the book was written down in the form it is is now after the people had lost the land, their power, and many of their people. They were trying to figure out what they could have done differently to prevent that from happening, and when they looked backward, they were concerned that they’d become complacent. They thought they should have remembered the desert, and the dependence on God, and remained grateful.

However, the text doesn’t really end where we left it. The final two verses in this section are, “If you do forget the Lord your God and follow other gods to serve and worship them, I solemnly warn you today that you shall surely perish. Like the nations that the Lord is destroying before you, so shall you perish, because you would not obey the voice of the Lord your God.” These lines raise much deeper concerns about gratitude for me. You see, the story of the Bible is that God gave the Promised Land to the ancient Israelites.

Furthermore, the Bible acknowledges that there were ALREADY PEOPLE living in the land when God decided to give it to “the people,” and the Bible says that God lead the ancient Israelites to kill them off so the ancient Israelites could have the land instead. Believe it or not, there is both good news and bad news on this front.

The good news is that the killing off of all the people in the land didn’t actually happen. We know this in at least two important ways: the first is that for the rest of the Bible’s history we hear the challenges of living intermingled with the people of the land, the ones who didn’t follow God. That indicates they weren’t all killed off. Secondly, archeological research has looked at the cities that existed in the land at that time, and they simply weren’t concurred or destroyed. (So, no, Joshua did NOT fight the battle of Jericho, but that’s a story for another day.) Addison Wright, a Catholic Biblical Scholar, thinks it was most likely that a very small band of nomadic people had an exceptionally profound experience of the divine in the desert – a God who cared about how people treated each other; when they got to a land they wanted to settle in they told their story; and the people in that place were moved by the story and choose to claim it as their own. Thus the origins of ancient Israel was a mixture of the native people of the land and those who entered it with the God-story.

That’s the good news. Now for the bad news. The history of North and South America was formed by the Bible’s meta-narrative about God’s Promised Land and the right of those with might to take it from those who already lived on it. The Bible speaks of God giving the land to God’s people, including God giving the people military victory. It sounds horribly like Manifest Destiny, doesn’t it? While the mass killing of ancient Palestine didn’t happen, the mass killing in the Americas most certainly did, and it was justified with these Biblical stories.

(The Bible is a very scary weapon.)

This week, as our nation celebrates Thanksgiving, we remember with gratitude the Native people’s generosity in sharing their food to keep the early European settlers alive. Our country’s narrative usually ends there (or at least that’s how I learned it as a child), and ignores that the European settlers responded to this generosity with mass murder, justified by the Bible. According to A People’s History of the United States, “The Puritans also appealed to the Bible, Psalm 2:8, ‘Ask of me and I shall give thee, the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.’ And to justify their use of force to take the land, they cited Romans 13:2, ‘Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation.’”³

Personally, I am grateful for the Native Americans who fed those settlers, and helped them make it through the winter. At the same time, gratitude alone seems insufficient when looking at the larger story. Telling the story as I was taught it as a child glosses over a much larger story of genocide, one justified with our faith tradition, one whose impacts are still very much alive in the Native American people and their descendants today.

As a descendant of those Pilgrims, how can I claim gratitude for the actions of the Native people without letting that gratitude turn into complacency for the profound harm that was also a part of the story? As a faith descendant of those ancient Israelites, how do I make sense of their stories of violence in the name of God, and the justification of violence that has come from those stories? And how do I hold that in tension with my gratitude for the text itself and the stories of faith? As a person of relative wealth in the world, how do I do more than justify complacency with gratitude?

There are even DEEPER questions under all of this. As people of faith, we often talk about the good gifts God has given us: people who love us, abilities we have, food, shelter, etc. Yet, when we attribute those good gifts to God, how do we make sense of people who are lonely, those with disabilities, people who doesn’t have food or shelter? Does our gratitude for what we do have blind us to the fact that God loves people without just as much as God loves us? How can we be grateful without being blind to the struggles of others of God’s children? How do we make sense of the different struggles people face? And how much do we attribute to God?

Do we want to claim that God gives all good gifts and that bad things in life are our own fault? Or the fault of society? Or of evil? Do we want to claim that God “has a plan” and that plan includes some people having and some not? Does all good come from God? And if so, why didn’t God attribute it more fairly? And where does the bad come from?

Furthermore, when does gratitude for one thing become a chain that binds people? For example, a person who is grateful to have enough income in their family is thus stuck in an abusive relationship by that very income?

All of this is to say that gratitude that is, I still think, the very core of our faith, can have a very complicated and noxious underbelly. While I worry about gratitude being a source of complacency, I also think that at its best gratitude can move us out of complacency. When we pay attention to what is GOOD in the world, we make space for more good. Sure, the good is often complicated, and needs further investigation. That needs to happen too. Nothing is pure, and we have to live in the complicated, even with gratitude. So, despite all the complications, may we pay attention and respond with gratitude! Amen

1Ronald Clements, Deuteronomy in the New Interpreter’s Bible Vol 2, (Nashville: Abingdon,1998) p. 356

2Walter Brueggemann, Deuteronomy (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2001), p. 109.

3Howard Zinn, A People’s History of the United States (New York: First Perennial Classics, 2001), p. 14

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