The secret of a perfect Thanksgiving
Commentary
Object:
Mehmed II was the great Ottoman conqueror who captured Constantinople in 1453.
Because of his uncertain parentage, unhappy childhood, and turbulent adolescence while
his royal status was challenged, Mehmed became known for his great secretiveness. Once
when asked what he was planning to do, he replied, "If a hair of my beard knew, I would
pluck it out."
Most of us live lives more open than that, but we have all felt the pull of secrets. Secrets can be a source of power when knowledge is shared by only a few. Secrets can form a bond between friends who know intimate details that others are not privy to. Secrets are sometimes necessary in international negotiations in order to ensure that outcomes will not be sabotaged by information received and acted upon too quickly by others.
In fact, Jesus seemed somewhat secretive at times. On a number of occasions, particularly as recorded in the gospel of Mark, we are told that when Jesus performed a miracle or cast out a demon, he would instruct those who witnessed it not to tell anyone else. We might be mystified about that, thinking everybody should immediately hear the wonders of Jesus' divine skills. But at the time, Jesus appeared to have been concerned that some people might too quickly misinterpret his power and try, by force, to make him a human king, when his actual destiny was so much greater. Sometimes secrets are a good thing.
The secret of a perfect thanksgiving is both open and hidden. On the one hand, as Moses tells the Israelites in Deuteronomy, thanksgiving is best lived out in the community. At the same time, as Paul reminds the Philippian congregation, thankful hearts are honed in the secret places of remembered history. Finally, there is the teaching of Jesus, who turns the world of his hearers upside down, until the things they think they need are hidden away and until that which they don't know they need emerges from its secret place.
Deuteronomy 26:1-11
The idea of firstfruit offerings is a pervasive scriptural concept. Abel appears to have brought the firstfruits of his flocks, while Cain did not do the same from his garden (Genesis 4), indicating the level of investment each had in their acts of worship. "Firstfruits" was declared by God at Sinai to be one of the major religious and social holidays of the Israelite year (Leviticus 23:9-14). Its location on the calendar showed its heightened significance, for it took place on Abib 16 (the first month of the year), during the week-long Feast of Unleavened Bread (Abib 15-21) that amplified the people's yearly celebration of the high and holy event of Passover (Abib 14). Since the Passover was one of the three pilgrim feasts that brought the entire population together at the tabernacle and later the temple, the Feast of Firstfruits was indeed a national celebration.
On the Feast of Firstfruits, each household was to gather into a sheaf the first cutting of grain in the barley harvest. This was to be taken to the altar of burnt offerings in the courtyard of the tabernacle or temple, waved before the Lord with ritual prayers of thanks, and then burned so that Yahweh could enjoy the first feast from the crop. The implications were several. First, the land and its produce belonged to God and were only granted by way of stewardship to the people. Second, the highest devotion of the people was to worship Yahweh of the Sinai covenant and no other alliances or allegiances were to come in between. Third, this firstfruit offering was also a matter of trust: Those who brought it believed that God would provide the complete harvest and that they need not worry about it.
Moses broadens the impact of the Feast of Firstfruits here in Deuteronomy 26. For one thing, he calls on the Israelites to go beyond the barley harvest and think about all aspects of their agricultural existence when making offerings of thanks to God. Grains did not grow well in all parts of Palestine, and many homes would focus their energies on vineyard crops, or olive groves, or cattle care. Moses' instructions take all of those into account and encourage every branch of agricultural production to practice its own type of firstfruit celebration.
Second, Moses removes the limits of the specific festival red-lettered into the yearly liturgical calendar of the people by making firstfruit offerings a year-round expression of piety and devotion. Since the barley harvest occurred very early in the year, the institutional Feast of Firstfruits was situated perfectly to mark the beginning of that season. But agricultural cycles produced various crops throughout the year, and animal husbandry knew of animals born on numerous occasions during the changing months, and Moses' instructions about firstfruit offerings that are not limited to the feast of that name encourages year-round thank-offerings.
Third, Moses ties these ongoing firstfruit offerings to a social consciousness. He instructs the people that when they bring their firstfruit offerings they must make a public testimony reciting their history as slaves, the deliverance brought by Yahweh, their current state of landowner wealth, and the plight of those who are not as fortunate. In so ordering, Moses perpetuates among the people a historical rootedness that undergirds both thankfulness and an eye for benevolence. They are never to take their possessions or opportunities for granted, or become self-important with false notions of entitlement. Nor were they to become insulated or isolated in their riches so that they began to live in ghettoed suburbs or gated communities where they could escape the bothersome annoyance of seeing poor people. In fact, as the verses that follow today's lesson indicate, a portion of the firstfruit offerings were to be shared with the poor in the towns where those who were bringing the gifts themselves resided. Firstfruit offerings were an active investment in social care.
The implications for Thanksgiving Day are huge. First, true thankfulness is an acknowledgment that life itself, along with the treasures that have accreted to each person along the way, is a gift. When life is taken for granted, it is desacralized and robbed of any significance. If thankfulness is taken out of the picture, atheistic evolutionism wins, and the result is the not-very-pretty carnage of the survival of the fittest, all of whom deserve exactly what they get.
Second, Thanksgiving cannot be limited to a single day, nor is it the primary provenance of a particular type of agricultural community. As Moses indicated, the firstfruit offerings need to be made from all forms of livelihood. Barley is not the only crop of blessing, nor are farmers the only people dependent on the graciousness of God. Since Moses did not write the official Feast of Firstfruits out of the national calendar, he was not saying that it was a trite and meaningless celebration. Instead, Moses was affirming the good of a single day on which there was a national thankful focus, and then using that celebration to build recurring acts of gratitude into the general life of the population.
Third, in Moses' instructions is a reminder of the meta-narratives that drive life and nurture its meaning. Busy lives and time-crunching planners atomize and fragment our lives into smaller and smaller chunks of efficiency. Our increased productiveness does not necessarily broaden or deepen our sense of meaning and self, however. So it is that festivals like firstfruits or Thanksgiving give us opportunities to step away from the minutia and re-engage the big testimonies of our lives or our cultures or our faith. Almost none of the people hearing Moses' words for the first time in Deuteronomy 26 could recall the hardships of slavery in Egypt; that entire generation had died during the forty years of wilderness wanderings. Along with that, none of those present had firsthand knowledge of the lives of the patriarchs who were "wandering Arameans." When they owned these histories, they were bound together again in a camaraderie of identity and purpose. So, too, in today's Thanksgiving celebrations. From our many little tales we are gathered again to enter the big sweep of redemptive history so that we remember again who we are and whose we are.
Fourth, Moses reminds us that Thanksgiving is a very social holiday. It is not about turkey and football, nor primarily about gathering with one's relatives and friends, although these things can be very important. True thankfulness sees the marginalized of society and seeks to do something about the injustices that make some scramble for crumbs while others don't know what to do with their waste. Thanksgiving may begin for many in the church, but it does not continue as thankfulness if it ends there.
Philippians 4:4-9
Paul would never forget his first time at Philippi. He was coming off the high of endorsement and influential success that had happened at the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15). There his church-planting work with Barnabas in Antioch had been affirmed, and the intense struggles of their first mission journey had been vindicated over against some in the church who wanted Gentiles to become Jews before they became Christians. Paul was on the road again to bring this news of hope and liberation to others. He had already stopped at the congregations of the first mission journey in central Asia Minor and was heading out into new territory.
At the same time, Paul was likely still smarting under the pain of separation from his old mentor and friend, Barnabas. During their first mission journey they had taken young John Mark along as an aid. Mark was Barnabas' cousin, and someone who had come under the older man's care since Mary, Mark's mother, had lost her husband. So Mark joined the team with a spirit of adventure but lost heart when the trip was longer and harder than expected. Halfway through, he had left them to return home to Jerusalem. Now when Paul and Barnabas wanted to take the positive results of the Jerusalem Council back to their friends in Asia Minor, Barnabas thought Mark ought to be given a chance to redeem himself. Paul thought such a move was madness, and in a huff of angry words, these two great leaders split.
One more thing was likely in Paul's mind when he arrived at Philippi on the first occasion. Recently he had received the services of Dr. Luke, over in Troas, and had gained a friend and an ally in the process. At the same time, Paul had experienced a clear and unmistakable vision calling him and the others to venture into new European territory, well beyond the limits of typical Jewish settlement. When Paul stumbled into Philippi, he was entering with new friends, and sensing the excitement of a divinely initiated missional challenge.
It began to unfold quickly. In a city with almost no Jews (ten Jewish males were required, at minimum, in any city in order to form a synagogue; there was no synagogue in Philippi, so Paul and Silas found a few Jewish believers down by the river at a place for ritual purifications), the first to believe their message of Jesus as Messiah was an independently wealthy business woman named Lydia (Acts 16). Her gracious hospitality provided them with a base of operations from which to roam Philippi's streets, preaching about Jesus. In short order, they got into trouble, however, when a demon-possessed slave girl rattled them with her accusations and then lost her unusual fortune-telling voice as Paul restored her spiritual wholeness. Angered by his tampering into their financial affairs, the girl's owners threw Paul and Silas into prison. The oddness of the events continued to spiral as an earthquake destroyed the facility, the crusty old pensioned Roman soldier who owned the place nearly committed suicide, and after a midnight revival meeting, the place was turned into a church.
With such a strange history, and in a church organized by this incredibly variegated initial group of believers, it would not be hard to imagine a tough survival rate for its membership. Unlike the Corinthian congregation, the church in Philippi seemed to thrive and became one of Paul's favorites among his key congregations. This letter, written by Paul from prison in Rome around 59-60 AD (see Acts 28), bubbles with delight and resonates with goodwill.
While there seems to have been a few relational issues to challenge the stability of the team in Philippi (see Philippians 4:2-3), for the most part, Paul exudes joy and graciousness when thinking about these folks. He himself is facing uncertainty in this appeal process to Caesar, and that comes through in the verses that follow today's reading. All in all, the message of Philippians 4:4-9 is one of enthusiasm, encouragement, strength, and delight.
Paul's words are not so much to be preached as they are to be chanted and cheered and championed. They are not a teaching but a testimony. They have not the weight of instruction so much as they carry themselves with illumination and insight. They need to be sung in choral enthusiasm as "To God Be The Glory, Great Things He Has Done," or blasted through the speakers in a stirring rendition of "Shout To The Lord." This is thanksgiving that stirs the passions and challenges the emotions to come alive with dancing.
John 6:25-35
Jesus is the greatest spokesperson of all times for understanding the blessings of God. No one experienced more of the richness of divine wealth or power than he or understood more fully the intent of God toward human development and fulfillment. As the incarnation of deity into the human race, Jesus could have configured his own existence in such a way that material possessions or social standing were his at a mere whim or grasp. Yet he makes very clear that these are not the beginning or ending or meaning of human existence.
Furthermore, in his very life, Jesus made clear that our personal desires are not always fulfilled, and that there is a deeper purpose for our existence than the accumulation of wealth or power. When tempted by the devil in the wilderness at the start of his ministry, Jesus resisted efforts to be drawn into the game of "If I want it, I can have it." When urged by the crowds to rule as king in Galilee, he set aside these honors to chart a course to the cross. Even when wrestling in the garden of Gethsemane with his Father for a way to step back from pain and difficulty, Jesus admitted that his desires ought not rule the day.
Jesus' lifestyle is itself a negation of the secret of the popular book, The Secret. His teaching here makes it very clear that our priorities ought to shape our desires and that our desires are best focused when they look beyond ourselves to the things of the kingdom of God.
As the people come out to see him, and to seek from him some kind of blessing, he challenges their very assumptions about the cravings inside. If one surveys the idea of "blessing" in the Bible, several core concepts come to mind. To bless is to take note of someone with love and pleasure, wish that person well, and then to do what one can to participate in bringing about that person's welfare and good fortunes. Thus "blessing," in scripture, is always at heart a relational idea. It is based upon the commitments of people to people (such as parents who bless their children), God to people (as when the priests would pronounce the blessing of God over the people -- see Numbers 6:22-27), and even people to God (notice the language of Psalm 103 in the King James Bible -- "Bless the Lord, O my soul!"). Any material benefits that might flow out of such relationships of tenderness and commitment are secondary to the essence of the blessing itself.
For that reason, mere desire for food can actually take the focus off the issues of real need in life. So if one desires to be blessed in this life, the wrong place to begin is visualizing material possessions or career advancement opportunities. These, in fact, may serve to cloud our horizons and keep us from seeing the real values of our existence. This is always the danger on Thanksgiving Day, where the mythical abundance of food, and people who are "stuffed" with too much turkey, can make the day less religious than it ought to be. Thankfulness is not always engendered by full bellies.
Years ago Madeleine L'Engle was "Writer in Residence" at St. John's Cathedral in New York City. She and the bishop often talked about creativity, and after one conversation they concluded that it had usually come in both their lives through times of difficulty and pain. As he left her office, the bishop turned to make his farewell and said, "I don't know quite how to say this, Madeleine, but have a bad day!" They both laughed, but she knew what he meant; sometimes for the creative grace of God to be deeply experienced, it would flow out of difficult circumstances.
In this manner, Jesus' words about eating the divine manna are prophetic of his own coming bad day. For those who would receive the blessings of heaven must first remember the cost that fell on Jesus.
Application
The message today might start out with sharing "secret recipes" for Thanksgiving meal dishes. How might one set the perfect Thanksgiving table? What would Martha or Oprah say is the secret to a perfect holiday celebration? Then it might be possible to transition into the scripture themes noted above that give picture perfect thankfulness a different twist.
Alternative Application
Deuteronomy 26:1-11. The Deuteronomy passage is marvelous. Call out the themes from that section of the study and a great thanksgiving message leaps to life.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 100
"Know that the Lord is God! It is [God] who made us, and we are [God's]" (v. 3). In an age of extreme individualism, the idea that human beings belong to God is not only anachronistic, it borders on the offensive. The response is almost automatic. "What? Me? Belong to someone? Never! I am my own man ... or woman!" Contemporary culture is obsessed with the notion that each individual person is in charge of their own destiny. It is rife with the fiction that each person is a unique entity making choices only for themselves, and it is only to themselves that they owe loyalty or fealty.
Evidence of this malaise can be seen in the decline of voluntarism and charitable giving, as well as in the unwillingness of a whole generation to "join" anything, much less a church. In church circles, one can see this as people engaging in a consumer-based approach to church life. If the poor pastor provides what the people want, then they stay and make their contributions. If the clergyman or clergywoman does not meet the felt needs of the people, then they go someplace where those alleged needs will be met. Where, in this mix, is the call of faithfulness to God?
"Old 100" pulls us back to the truth that we do belong to God. We are, as the psalm clearly articulates, God's people and no other. We are sheep in whose pasture? God's! This is weighty stuff in today's culture, and it will take some courageous leadership if this notion is to be reclaimed in the life of faith.
In spite of the endless barrage of information that insists on the opposite, it turns out that there is something bigger than our own individual wants and desires. It turns out that the search to discern and do God's will is the path to which people of faith are called. In this call is the fundamental understanding that we belong -- not to ourselves or any organization or clan -- we are answerable, not to our own whims and desires or to any power or authority other than that of God our Creator and Redeemer.
It is for this reason that our sense of confession begins, not with a laundry list of mistakes, missteps, and misdeeds, but rather with the simple openhearted declaration, "The Lord is God. It is [God] who made us, and we belong to [God]. We are [God's] people, the sheep of [God's] pasture" (v. 3).
Most of us live lives more open than that, but we have all felt the pull of secrets. Secrets can be a source of power when knowledge is shared by only a few. Secrets can form a bond between friends who know intimate details that others are not privy to. Secrets are sometimes necessary in international negotiations in order to ensure that outcomes will not be sabotaged by information received and acted upon too quickly by others.
In fact, Jesus seemed somewhat secretive at times. On a number of occasions, particularly as recorded in the gospel of Mark, we are told that when Jesus performed a miracle or cast out a demon, he would instruct those who witnessed it not to tell anyone else. We might be mystified about that, thinking everybody should immediately hear the wonders of Jesus' divine skills. But at the time, Jesus appeared to have been concerned that some people might too quickly misinterpret his power and try, by force, to make him a human king, when his actual destiny was so much greater. Sometimes secrets are a good thing.
The secret of a perfect thanksgiving is both open and hidden. On the one hand, as Moses tells the Israelites in Deuteronomy, thanksgiving is best lived out in the community. At the same time, as Paul reminds the Philippian congregation, thankful hearts are honed in the secret places of remembered history. Finally, there is the teaching of Jesus, who turns the world of his hearers upside down, until the things they think they need are hidden away and until that which they don't know they need emerges from its secret place.
Deuteronomy 26:1-11
The idea of firstfruit offerings is a pervasive scriptural concept. Abel appears to have brought the firstfruits of his flocks, while Cain did not do the same from his garden (Genesis 4), indicating the level of investment each had in their acts of worship. "Firstfruits" was declared by God at Sinai to be one of the major religious and social holidays of the Israelite year (Leviticus 23:9-14). Its location on the calendar showed its heightened significance, for it took place on Abib 16 (the first month of the year), during the week-long Feast of Unleavened Bread (Abib 15-21) that amplified the people's yearly celebration of the high and holy event of Passover (Abib 14). Since the Passover was one of the three pilgrim feasts that brought the entire population together at the tabernacle and later the temple, the Feast of Firstfruits was indeed a national celebration.
On the Feast of Firstfruits, each household was to gather into a sheaf the first cutting of grain in the barley harvest. This was to be taken to the altar of burnt offerings in the courtyard of the tabernacle or temple, waved before the Lord with ritual prayers of thanks, and then burned so that Yahweh could enjoy the first feast from the crop. The implications were several. First, the land and its produce belonged to God and were only granted by way of stewardship to the people. Second, the highest devotion of the people was to worship Yahweh of the Sinai covenant and no other alliances or allegiances were to come in between. Third, this firstfruit offering was also a matter of trust: Those who brought it believed that God would provide the complete harvest and that they need not worry about it.
Moses broadens the impact of the Feast of Firstfruits here in Deuteronomy 26. For one thing, he calls on the Israelites to go beyond the barley harvest and think about all aspects of their agricultural existence when making offerings of thanks to God. Grains did not grow well in all parts of Palestine, and many homes would focus their energies on vineyard crops, or olive groves, or cattle care. Moses' instructions take all of those into account and encourage every branch of agricultural production to practice its own type of firstfruit celebration.
Second, Moses removes the limits of the specific festival red-lettered into the yearly liturgical calendar of the people by making firstfruit offerings a year-round expression of piety and devotion. Since the barley harvest occurred very early in the year, the institutional Feast of Firstfruits was situated perfectly to mark the beginning of that season. But agricultural cycles produced various crops throughout the year, and animal husbandry knew of animals born on numerous occasions during the changing months, and Moses' instructions about firstfruit offerings that are not limited to the feast of that name encourages year-round thank-offerings.
Third, Moses ties these ongoing firstfruit offerings to a social consciousness. He instructs the people that when they bring their firstfruit offerings they must make a public testimony reciting their history as slaves, the deliverance brought by Yahweh, their current state of landowner wealth, and the plight of those who are not as fortunate. In so ordering, Moses perpetuates among the people a historical rootedness that undergirds both thankfulness and an eye for benevolence. They are never to take their possessions or opportunities for granted, or become self-important with false notions of entitlement. Nor were they to become insulated or isolated in their riches so that they began to live in ghettoed suburbs or gated communities where they could escape the bothersome annoyance of seeing poor people. In fact, as the verses that follow today's lesson indicate, a portion of the firstfruit offerings were to be shared with the poor in the towns where those who were bringing the gifts themselves resided. Firstfruit offerings were an active investment in social care.
The implications for Thanksgiving Day are huge. First, true thankfulness is an acknowledgment that life itself, along with the treasures that have accreted to each person along the way, is a gift. When life is taken for granted, it is desacralized and robbed of any significance. If thankfulness is taken out of the picture, atheistic evolutionism wins, and the result is the not-very-pretty carnage of the survival of the fittest, all of whom deserve exactly what they get.
Second, Thanksgiving cannot be limited to a single day, nor is it the primary provenance of a particular type of agricultural community. As Moses indicated, the firstfruit offerings need to be made from all forms of livelihood. Barley is not the only crop of blessing, nor are farmers the only people dependent on the graciousness of God. Since Moses did not write the official Feast of Firstfruits out of the national calendar, he was not saying that it was a trite and meaningless celebration. Instead, Moses was affirming the good of a single day on which there was a national thankful focus, and then using that celebration to build recurring acts of gratitude into the general life of the population.
Third, in Moses' instructions is a reminder of the meta-narratives that drive life and nurture its meaning. Busy lives and time-crunching planners atomize and fragment our lives into smaller and smaller chunks of efficiency. Our increased productiveness does not necessarily broaden or deepen our sense of meaning and self, however. So it is that festivals like firstfruits or Thanksgiving give us opportunities to step away from the minutia and re-engage the big testimonies of our lives or our cultures or our faith. Almost none of the people hearing Moses' words for the first time in Deuteronomy 26 could recall the hardships of slavery in Egypt; that entire generation had died during the forty years of wilderness wanderings. Along with that, none of those present had firsthand knowledge of the lives of the patriarchs who were "wandering Arameans." When they owned these histories, they were bound together again in a camaraderie of identity and purpose. So, too, in today's Thanksgiving celebrations. From our many little tales we are gathered again to enter the big sweep of redemptive history so that we remember again who we are and whose we are.
Fourth, Moses reminds us that Thanksgiving is a very social holiday. It is not about turkey and football, nor primarily about gathering with one's relatives and friends, although these things can be very important. True thankfulness sees the marginalized of society and seeks to do something about the injustices that make some scramble for crumbs while others don't know what to do with their waste. Thanksgiving may begin for many in the church, but it does not continue as thankfulness if it ends there.
Philippians 4:4-9
Paul would never forget his first time at Philippi. He was coming off the high of endorsement and influential success that had happened at the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15). There his church-planting work with Barnabas in Antioch had been affirmed, and the intense struggles of their first mission journey had been vindicated over against some in the church who wanted Gentiles to become Jews before they became Christians. Paul was on the road again to bring this news of hope and liberation to others. He had already stopped at the congregations of the first mission journey in central Asia Minor and was heading out into new territory.
At the same time, Paul was likely still smarting under the pain of separation from his old mentor and friend, Barnabas. During their first mission journey they had taken young John Mark along as an aid. Mark was Barnabas' cousin, and someone who had come under the older man's care since Mary, Mark's mother, had lost her husband. So Mark joined the team with a spirit of adventure but lost heart when the trip was longer and harder than expected. Halfway through, he had left them to return home to Jerusalem. Now when Paul and Barnabas wanted to take the positive results of the Jerusalem Council back to their friends in Asia Minor, Barnabas thought Mark ought to be given a chance to redeem himself. Paul thought such a move was madness, and in a huff of angry words, these two great leaders split.
One more thing was likely in Paul's mind when he arrived at Philippi on the first occasion. Recently he had received the services of Dr. Luke, over in Troas, and had gained a friend and an ally in the process. At the same time, Paul had experienced a clear and unmistakable vision calling him and the others to venture into new European territory, well beyond the limits of typical Jewish settlement. When Paul stumbled into Philippi, he was entering with new friends, and sensing the excitement of a divinely initiated missional challenge.
It began to unfold quickly. In a city with almost no Jews (ten Jewish males were required, at minimum, in any city in order to form a synagogue; there was no synagogue in Philippi, so Paul and Silas found a few Jewish believers down by the river at a place for ritual purifications), the first to believe their message of Jesus as Messiah was an independently wealthy business woman named Lydia (Acts 16). Her gracious hospitality provided them with a base of operations from which to roam Philippi's streets, preaching about Jesus. In short order, they got into trouble, however, when a demon-possessed slave girl rattled them with her accusations and then lost her unusual fortune-telling voice as Paul restored her spiritual wholeness. Angered by his tampering into their financial affairs, the girl's owners threw Paul and Silas into prison. The oddness of the events continued to spiral as an earthquake destroyed the facility, the crusty old pensioned Roman soldier who owned the place nearly committed suicide, and after a midnight revival meeting, the place was turned into a church.
With such a strange history, and in a church organized by this incredibly variegated initial group of believers, it would not be hard to imagine a tough survival rate for its membership. Unlike the Corinthian congregation, the church in Philippi seemed to thrive and became one of Paul's favorites among his key congregations. This letter, written by Paul from prison in Rome around 59-60 AD (see Acts 28), bubbles with delight and resonates with goodwill.
While there seems to have been a few relational issues to challenge the stability of the team in Philippi (see Philippians 4:2-3), for the most part, Paul exudes joy and graciousness when thinking about these folks. He himself is facing uncertainty in this appeal process to Caesar, and that comes through in the verses that follow today's reading. All in all, the message of Philippians 4:4-9 is one of enthusiasm, encouragement, strength, and delight.
Paul's words are not so much to be preached as they are to be chanted and cheered and championed. They are not a teaching but a testimony. They have not the weight of instruction so much as they carry themselves with illumination and insight. They need to be sung in choral enthusiasm as "To God Be The Glory, Great Things He Has Done," or blasted through the speakers in a stirring rendition of "Shout To The Lord." This is thanksgiving that stirs the passions and challenges the emotions to come alive with dancing.
John 6:25-35
Jesus is the greatest spokesperson of all times for understanding the blessings of God. No one experienced more of the richness of divine wealth or power than he or understood more fully the intent of God toward human development and fulfillment. As the incarnation of deity into the human race, Jesus could have configured his own existence in such a way that material possessions or social standing were his at a mere whim or grasp. Yet he makes very clear that these are not the beginning or ending or meaning of human existence.
Furthermore, in his very life, Jesus made clear that our personal desires are not always fulfilled, and that there is a deeper purpose for our existence than the accumulation of wealth or power. When tempted by the devil in the wilderness at the start of his ministry, Jesus resisted efforts to be drawn into the game of "If I want it, I can have it." When urged by the crowds to rule as king in Galilee, he set aside these honors to chart a course to the cross. Even when wrestling in the garden of Gethsemane with his Father for a way to step back from pain and difficulty, Jesus admitted that his desires ought not rule the day.
Jesus' lifestyle is itself a negation of the secret of the popular book, The Secret. His teaching here makes it very clear that our priorities ought to shape our desires and that our desires are best focused when they look beyond ourselves to the things of the kingdom of God.
As the people come out to see him, and to seek from him some kind of blessing, he challenges their very assumptions about the cravings inside. If one surveys the idea of "blessing" in the Bible, several core concepts come to mind. To bless is to take note of someone with love and pleasure, wish that person well, and then to do what one can to participate in bringing about that person's welfare and good fortunes. Thus "blessing," in scripture, is always at heart a relational idea. It is based upon the commitments of people to people (such as parents who bless their children), God to people (as when the priests would pronounce the blessing of God over the people -- see Numbers 6:22-27), and even people to God (notice the language of Psalm 103 in the King James Bible -- "Bless the Lord, O my soul!"). Any material benefits that might flow out of such relationships of tenderness and commitment are secondary to the essence of the blessing itself.
For that reason, mere desire for food can actually take the focus off the issues of real need in life. So if one desires to be blessed in this life, the wrong place to begin is visualizing material possessions or career advancement opportunities. These, in fact, may serve to cloud our horizons and keep us from seeing the real values of our existence. This is always the danger on Thanksgiving Day, where the mythical abundance of food, and people who are "stuffed" with too much turkey, can make the day less religious than it ought to be. Thankfulness is not always engendered by full bellies.
Years ago Madeleine L'Engle was "Writer in Residence" at St. John's Cathedral in New York City. She and the bishop often talked about creativity, and after one conversation they concluded that it had usually come in both their lives through times of difficulty and pain. As he left her office, the bishop turned to make his farewell and said, "I don't know quite how to say this, Madeleine, but have a bad day!" They both laughed, but she knew what he meant; sometimes for the creative grace of God to be deeply experienced, it would flow out of difficult circumstances.
In this manner, Jesus' words about eating the divine manna are prophetic of his own coming bad day. For those who would receive the blessings of heaven must first remember the cost that fell on Jesus.
Application
The message today might start out with sharing "secret recipes" for Thanksgiving meal dishes. How might one set the perfect Thanksgiving table? What would Martha or Oprah say is the secret to a perfect holiday celebration? Then it might be possible to transition into the scripture themes noted above that give picture perfect thankfulness a different twist.
Alternative Application
Deuteronomy 26:1-11. The Deuteronomy passage is marvelous. Call out the themes from that section of the study and a great thanksgiving message leaps to life.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 100
"Know that the Lord is God! It is [God] who made us, and we are [God's]" (v. 3). In an age of extreme individualism, the idea that human beings belong to God is not only anachronistic, it borders on the offensive. The response is almost automatic. "What? Me? Belong to someone? Never! I am my own man ... or woman!" Contemporary culture is obsessed with the notion that each individual person is in charge of their own destiny. It is rife with the fiction that each person is a unique entity making choices only for themselves, and it is only to themselves that they owe loyalty or fealty.
Evidence of this malaise can be seen in the decline of voluntarism and charitable giving, as well as in the unwillingness of a whole generation to "join" anything, much less a church. In church circles, one can see this as people engaging in a consumer-based approach to church life. If the poor pastor provides what the people want, then they stay and make their contributions. If the clergyman or clergywoman does not meet the felt needs of the people, then they go someplace where those alleged needs will be met. Where, in this mix, is the call of faithfulness to God?
"Old 100" pulls us back to the truth that we do belong to God. We are, as the psalm clearly articulates, God's people and no other. We are sheep in whose pasture? God's! This is weighty stuff in today's culture, and it will take some courageous leadership if this notion is to be reclaimed in the life of faith.
In spite of the endless barrage of information that insists on the opposite, it turns out that there is something bigger than our own individual wants and desires. It turns out that the search to discern and do God's will is the path to which people of faith are called. In this call is the fundamental understanding that we belong -- not to ourselves or any organization or clan -- we are answerable, not to our own whims and desires or to any power or authority other than that of God our Creator and Redeemer.
It is for this reason that our sense of confession begins, not with a laundry list of mistakes, missteps, and misdeeds, but rather with the simple openhearted declaration, "The Lord is God. It is [God] who made us, and we belong to [God]. We are [God's] people, the sheep of [God's] pasture" (v. 3).
