Thanksgiving

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". . . that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever. " (Psalm 30:12)

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The original Thanksgiving at Plymouth: http://www.plimoth.org

Something to Think About:
The Discipline of Giving Thanks
Mark Sibley Jones

Each day in Plimoth Plantation, located in Plymouth, Massachusetts, is a re-enactment of each corresponding day of the year of the 1627 original settlement. Actors faithfully and deliberately stay in character as they go about their tasks, even interacting with visitors--but from their own perspective as colonists. My conversation with a gentleman who was tending a garden was revealing. How do I explain to this 17th century man that I am a pastoral psychotherapist from Texas? He had no concept of psychotherapy, nor of the wilds of what was then an obscure portion of Mexico. I eventually abandoned my impromptu attempt to explain who I am--it was not possible to bridge the time span. He did seem to capture the notion that I "advise people."

My most profound encounter was with a young woman, busy with her chores at a table in her small quaint home. I sat with her for awhile to attempt another interpersonal connection. Although these "characters" could not comprehend my modern day vocation, our chat soon shifted toward a pastoral and therapeutic quality. As she dutifully explained her cooking chores, I asked about her relationships. She began to tear up as she commented on how difficult it was to be the only surviving member of her family. This was early June, and all her loved ones had succumbed to illness during the recent harsh winter. Her face flushed with the physiology of grief; her desperate loneliness was apparent in her regret for having left her English home. Actor and character were one. Were she my patient, I'd be treating her for depression and an acute grief reaction. I felt shaken to the core as I emerged back into the sunlight of the village's small thoroughfare. I had been suddenly transformed from a vacationing tourist to a participant in the drama.

Today, as I reflect on the original Thanksgiving event, I am reminded that our gratitude does not always enjoy the context of pleasant occurrences. While we may be thankful for our blessings, we may not actually feel blessed in the moment. I'm impressed by the sheer faith of these pilgrims to offer Thanksgiving during such a difficult time.

The four centuries that separate me from these pilgrims does not remove us from the common thread of human experience--nor of our desperate need for gratitude. If gratitude is elicited only in response to an observable and positive event, then it has little value to the soul. If giving thanks, however, is an act of faith--a spiritual discipline--then its transforming power can buttress our hearts from the dark nights of life.

Yes, the aroma of baking pies that I smell just now prompts me to feel thankful! And yes, I will offer words and prayers of thanksgiving today as I sit at the table with my loved ones. But, I do so with an awareness that my words of thanks contain an tacit promise to foster gratitude in my daily life. It is a discipline that helps me to survive the "harsh winters" of life.

Thanks be to God.