A Word Of Thanks
Sermon
Life Injections II
Further Connections Of Scripture To The Human Experience
"Was there no one to return and give thanks to God?"
Dr. Ernest Campbell, one of the great preachers of our day, called Thanksgiving the most difficult feast on which to preach because, once you've stated the obvious, there's little left to say. Here's an effort to provide a "little left to say."
Rudyard Kipling was one of those authors who was very successful in his lifetime. A British newspaper criticized him and ridiculed him and called him a mercenary. They said: "He is now writing just for the money. One word of Rudyard Kipling is worth $100." Shortly after the release of the unkind article, a reporter approached Kipling at a gathering and said: "So you are worth $100 a word, here is $100, give me a word." Then he handed him a paper and pencil. Kipling took the $100, put it in his pocket, and on the paper he wrote one word, "Thanks," and he gave it to the reporter.
I begin with that anecdote from the life of Rudyard Kipling because I would like to talk with you about the word "thanks" and in particular its lack of application to a whole host of things that often escape our attention. We are quick to use the word "thanks" for favors that are bestowed, gifts that are received, and kindnesses that are granted. But we are not so quick to use it at other times where the blessings received are either far from obvious or under the guise of something that hardly resembles a blessing. Bear with me as I note people, places, and things that we never give much thought to when it comes to the delivery of a word of "thanks."
First there are those responsible for the items and objects that are at arm's length each and every day. Martin Luther King, Jr., liked to remind people that, before they came to a Sunday morning worship service, they touched base with more than half the globe. "When you get up in the morning," he said, "you reached for a bar of soap whose ingredients came by way of France. You reach for a sponge and that comes your way compliments of someone from Turkey. You reach over for a towel and that comes to your hand thanks to the diligent labor of a Pacific Islander. You go down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and those coffee beans come compliments of a South American. Then, if you decide on a little bread and jam, it is conceivable that they came to the table from a far and distant land." Martin Luther King, Jr., would thus tell his congregation that in less than an hour after waking, there were people and places from all over the world whose products made their way into their bathrooms and kitchens and, if for some reason they happen to be missing, it would not have been a very good morning. You could thus say today that for starters we might consider delivering a word of "thanks" for those people and places whose products enable us to carry out our morning rituals in uninterrupted fashion.
Then, of course, you have the people who have shaped us and molded us and who are, in essence, responsible for who we are and what we are and how we think. I remember someone once asking how many people there were on Robinson Crusoe's island. If you recall the story, the answer was obvious: one. Robinson Crusoe was all alone on the island. That someone then took issue with that answer pointing out that Crusoe took with him to the island everybody who had taught him anything, everybody whom he imitated or emulated when it came to the living of his life. When Robinson Crusoe stepped foot on that uninhabited island, one could say that his relatives and friends and teachers and guides and mentors were all at his side. They were not with him physically but they were the ones who filled his mind, who provided him with his thoughts and hopes and dreams. You could thus honestly say that a lot of people lived on the island with Robinson Crusoe.
When it comes to the delivery of a word of "thanks," we might not just consider those people and places behind the products and items that compose our morning rituals. We might consider as well all the people who made an impression upon us, all of our relatives and friends who have filled our minds with wonderful thoughts and interests and hopes and dreams which we would not have embraced had their lives not touched ours.
To take this a step further, what about those countless others on the other side of this dimension of life? In the book titled Everybody's Calvary,1 Dr. Allen Walker tells of a young priest who went out to say Mass one day only to see one person in the pew. He thought of having him wait till the next Mass when more would be in attendance but he decided against it and proceeded on. When he got to a line in the Preface, the line which reads, "and now with Angels and Archangels and the whole Company of Heaven, we proclaim your glory and join in their unending hymn of praise!" the young priest stopped dead in his tracks and it dawned on him at that moment that it wasn't just he and the person in the pew at the Mass, there were countless others there as well.
I am reminded of the story of the old priest who was heading home one day after Mass and someone shouted to him in a derisive tone: "Were there many at Mass this morning, Father?" The old priest piped back: "There were millions there: the Angels, the Saints, and the multitudes of Heaven!"
Every time we come together in church we are reminded of this other dimension of life; we're reminded of a land that exists far beyond this one. Who's to say that we haven't been beneficiaries of the grace and goodness of those living in that other dimension of life? Who's to say that there aren't people whom we might know or not know praying for us and, because of those prayers, we've received blessings from someone in that company of heaven, someone living in that land beyond this one? So, perhaps, third on the list as recipients of a word of "thanks" might be one or more of those millions that the old priest mentioned, and along with that one or more, the person whose prayers gained their attention.
Then you have as the recipient of our gratitude that which bears little resemblance to a blessing. I read earlier this year of a young man mentioned only by the name Tommy. He was talking to the Reverend John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago. Tommy was only 24 years of age and suffering from cancer of the lung. He was just told by his physician that he has only a matter of a few weeks to live. Powell asked him what it was like to be 24 and dying. He answered by saying: "It could be worse!" A shocked Powell said: "It could be worse? Like what?" Tommy's response was: "Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies of life."
Tommy's remarkable reply gave me cause to think how, even in the worst of circumstances, one can find something to be thankful for. I'm reminded of what Matthew Henry, the old biblical scholar, once wrote in his journal. He had just been mugged and robbed of his wallet. This is what he wrote: "Lord, I'm thankful, first because I was never robbed before, second I'm thankful that although they took my wallet they did not take my life, and third I'm thankful it was I who was robbed not I who was robbing."
Matthew Henry and Tommy have both illustrated how, if life delivers a stinging blow, there can be something in that sea of pain and misery and outrage which can elicit a word of "thanks." And then there are times when the stinging blow itself elicits a word of "thanks" for what it happens to bring to our attention.
A story is told of an African princess who lived in the heart of the jungle. For years this chieftain's daughter had been told by everyone that she was the most beautiful woman of the entire tribe. Although she had no mirror to view herself, she was convinced that she was a woman of unparalleled beauty. One day an exploring party traveled through that part of Africa. They gave the princess a mirror as a gift. For the first time in her life she was able to see her own reflection. Her immediate reaction was to smash the mirror on the nearest rock. For the first time in her life she knew the truth about her lack of beauty and the truth proved too difficult to handle.
The stinging blows of life often serve as a mirror, getting us to see things we did not want to see, to admit things we did not want to admit, and to face things we did not wish to face. Like that princess, we're not at all happy about receiving such a revelation. We may even be embarrassed or disconsolate over what it brings to our attention. A truth, however, is realized and that warrants a word of "thanks."
Then how about those common, everyday events and occurrences which would never occur to us as subjects of our gratitude. The Jesuit William O'Malley, in one of his books,2 made some interesting points. He said that it's funny how as kids we were grateful to the tooth fairy for what that person puts under our pillow. Yet we never think of giving thanks for teeth, old and new. As kids, he said, we are grateful to Santa Claus for putting toys in our Christmas stocking, yet we never give thanks for the legs we put in our socks each morning. We ask God for peace in the Middle East and Bosnia and Northern Ireland yet we never thank God for the peace we have had in the United States since 1865. And, in closing, O'Malley asked to consider whether we ever give thanks to God that the sun came up seven times this past week, because it didn't have to, and whether we ever give thanks that we saw the sun rise in the morning because there are tens of thousands who, on one of those seven days, met with death and will never see another sunrise. I could go on with other examples, but you get the idea. There is much that should elicit a word of "thanks" that we entirely take for granted.
Lastly, there are the people who look to us for help. I remember hearing of a minister who had very little money. He was just getting by. One day a destitute family came to him and he was moved to pity. He gave them all the money he had and food as well and as they left he said: "Thank you for the privilege of letting me help you!" The minister sincerely meant what he said for he saw his helping others as an opportunity to be like God, and for that, how could one be anything but thankful? Those who get us to open our wallets, to open our hearts, and to donate our talents should not be the ones giving a word of "thanks." It should be us. We've been provided with the privilege of being like God.
Today's Gospel is the familiar story of the ten lepers who were cured of their disease. Only one provided any show of gratitude. Jesus tells the story to remind us of the importance and necessity of giving thanks. So as we consider the many obvious things for which we need to give God a word of "thanks," it behooves us to think as well of the not-so-obvious things that also deserve a word of "thanks."
We might think of the people from around the world who supply the invaluable products of our morning rituals. We might think of friends and family who have filled our minds with thoughts and hopes and dreams. We might think of a few of those millions from the other dimension of life who have extended to us more than a few blessings. We might think of the stinging blows of life which in themselves or of themselves have given cause for thanks. We might think of sunrises and teeth and legs and a host of other assorted things we take for granted. And we might think as well of those who got us to act like God.
My friends, heed the Gospel! Give God and give others a hearty word of "thanks."
____________
1. Alan Walker, Everybody's Calvary (London: Epworth Press, 1944).
2. William J. O'Malley S.J., Why Not (New York: Alba House, 1986).
Dr. Ernest Campbell, one of the great preachers of our day, called Thanksgiving the most difficult feast on which to preach because, once you've stated the obvious, there's little left to say. Here's an effort to provide a "little left to say."
Rudyard Kipling was one of those authors who was very successful in his lifetime. A British newspaper criticized him and ridiculed him and called him a mercenary. They said: "He is now writing just for the money. One word of Rudyard Kipling is worth $100." Shortly after the release of the unkind article, a reporter approached Kipling at a gathering and said: "So you are worth $100 a word, here is $100, give me a word." Then he handed him a paper and pencil. Kipling took the $100, put it in his pocket, and on the paper he wrote one word, "Thanks," and he gave it to the reporter.
I begin with that anecdote from the life of Rudyard Kipling because I would like to talk with you about the word "thanks" and in particular its lack of application to a whole host of things that often escape our attention. We are quick to use the word "thanks" for favors that are bestowed, gifts that are received, and kindnesses that are granted. But we are not so quick to use it at other times where the blessings received are either far from obvious or under the guise of something that hardly resembles a blessing. Bear with me as I note people, places, and things that we never give much thought to when it comes to the delivery of a word of "thanks."
First there are those responsible for the items and objects that are at arm's length each and every day. Martin Luther King, Jr., liked to remind people that, before they came to a Sunday morning worship service, they touched base with more than half the globe. "When you get up in the morning," he said, "you reached for a bar of soap whose ingredients came by way of France. You reach for a sponge and that comes your way compliments of someone from Turkey. You reach over for a towel and that comes to your hand thanks to the diligent labor of a Pacific Islander. You go down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and those coffee beans come compliments of a South American. Then, if you decide on a little bread and jam, it is conceivable that they came to the table from a far and distant land." Martin Luther King, Jr., would thus tell his congregation that in less than an hour after waking, there were people and places from all over the world whose products made their way into their bathrooms and kitchens and, if for some reason they happen to be missing, it would not have been a very good morning. You could thus say today that for starters we might consider delivering a word of "thanks" for those people and places whose products enable us to carry out our morning rituals in uninterrupted fashion.
Then, of course, you have the people who have shaped us and molded us and who are, in essence, responsible for who we are and what we are and how we think. I remember someone once asking how many people there were on Robinson Crusoe's island. If you recall the story, the answer was obvious: one. Robinson Crusoe was all alone on the island. That someone then took issue with that answer pointing out that Crusoe took with him to the island everybody who had taught him anything, everybody whom he imitated or emulated when it came to the living of his life. When Robinson Crusoe stepped foot on that uninhabited island, one could say that his relatives and friends and teachers and guides and mentors were all at his side. They were not with him physically but they were the ones who filled his mind, who provided him with his thoughts and hopes and dreams. You could thus honestly say that a lot of people lived on the island with Robinson Crusoe.
When it comes to the delivery of a word of "thanks," we might not just consider those people and places behind the products and items that compose our morning rituals. We might consider as well all the people who made an impression upon us, all of our relatives and friends who have filled our minds with wonderful thoughts and interests and hopes and dreams which we would not have embraced had their lives not touched ours.
To take this a step further, what about those countless others on the other side of this dimension of life? In the book titled Everybody's Calvary,1 Dr. Allen Walker tells of a young priest who went out to say Mass one day only to see one person in the pew. He thought of having him wait till the next Mass when more would be in attendance but he decided against it and proceeded on. When he got to a line in the Preface, the line which reads, "and now with Angels and Archangels and the whole Company of Heaven, we proclaim your glory and join in their unending hymn of praise!" the young priest stopped dead in his tracks and it dawned on him at that moment that it wasn't just he and the person in the pew at the Mass, there were countless others there as well.
I am reminded of the story of the old priest who was heading home one day after Mass and someone shouted to him in a derisive tone: "Were there many at Mass this morning, Father?" The old priest piped back: "There were millions there: the Angels, the Saints, and the multitudes of Heaven!"
Every time we come together in church we are reminded of this other dimension of life; we're reminded of a land that exists far beyond this one. Who's to say that we haven't been beneficiaries of the grace and goodness of those living in that other dimension of life? Who's to say that there aren't people whom we might know or not know praying for us and, because of those prayers, we've received blessings from someone in that company of heaven, someone living in that land beyond this one? So, perhaps, third on the list as recipients of a word of "thanks" might be one or more of those millions that the old priest mentioned, and along with that one or more, the person whose prayers gained their attention.
Then you have as the recipient of our gratitude that which bears little resemblance to a blessing. I read earlier this year of a young man mentioned only by the name Tommy. He was talking to the Reverend John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago. Tommy was only 24 years of age and suffering from cancer of the lung. He was just told by his physician that he has only a matter of a few weeks to live. Powell asked him what it was like to be 24 and dying. He answered by saying: "It could be worse!" A shocked Powell said: "It could be worse? Like what?" Tommy's response was: "Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies of life."
Tommy's remarkable reply gave me cause to think how, even in the worst of circumstances, one can find something to be thankful for. I'm reminded of what Matthew Henry, the old biblical scholar, once wrote in his journal. He had just been mugged and robbed of his wallet. This is what he wrote: "Lord, I'm thankful, first because I was never robbed before, second I'm thankful that although they took my wallet they did not take my life, and third I'm thankful it was I who was robbed not I who was robbing."
Matthew Henry and Tommy have both illustrated how, if life delivers a stinging blow, there can be something in that sea of pain and misery and outrage which can elicit a word of "thanks." And then there are times when the stinging blow itself elicits a word of "thanks" for what it happens to bring to our attention.
A story is told of an African princess who lived in the heart of the jungle. For years this chieftain's daughter had been told by everyone that she was the most beautiful woman of the entire tribe. Although she had no mirror to view herself, she was convinced that she was a woman of unparalleled beauty. One day an exploring party traveled through that part of Africa. They gave the princess a mirror as a gift. For the first time in her life she was able to see her own reflection. Her immediate reaction was to smash the mirror on the nearest rock. For the first time in her life she knew the truth about her lack of beauty and the truth proved too difficult to handle.
The stinging blows of life often serve as a mirror, getting us to see things we did not want to see, to admit things we did not want to admit, and to face things we did not wish to face. Like that princess, we're not at all happy about receiving such a revelation. We may even be embarrassed or disconsolate over what it brings to our attention. A truth, however, is realized and that warrants a word of "thanks."
Then how about those common, everyday events and occurrences which would never occur to us as subjects of our gratitude. The Jesuit William O'Malley, in one of his books,2 made some interesting points. He said that it's funny how as kids we were grateful to the tooth fairy for what that person puts under our pillow. Yet we never think of giving thanks for teeth, old and new. As kids, he said, we are grateful to Santa Claus for putting toys in our Christmas stocking, yet we never give thanks for the legs we put in our socks each morning. We ask God for peace in the Middle East and Bosnia and Northern Ireland yet we never thank God for the peace we have had in the United States since 1865. And, in closing, O'Malley asked to consider whether we ever give thanks to God that the sun came up seven times this past week, because it didn't have to, and whether we ever give thanks that we saw the sun rise in the morning because there are tens of thousands who, on one of those seven days, met with death and will never see another sunrise. I could go on with other examples, but you get the idea. There is much that should elicit a word of "thanks" that we entirely take for granted.
Lastly, there are the people who look to us for help. I remember hearing of a minister who had very little money. He was just getting by. One day a destitute family came to him and he was moved to pity. He gave them all the money he had and food as well and as they left he said: "Thank you for the privilege of letting me help you!" The minister sincerely meant what he said for he saw his helping others as an opportunity to be like God, and for that, how could one be anything but thankful? Those who get us to open our wallets, to open our hearts, and to donate our talents should not be the ones giving a word of "thanks." It should be us. We've been provided with the privilege of being like God.
Today's Gospel is the familiar story of the ten lepers who were cured of their disease. Only one provided any show of gratitude. Jesus tells the story to remind us of the importance and necessity of giving thanks. So as we consider the many obvious things for which we need to give God a word of "thanks," it behooves us to think as well of the not-so-obvious things that also deserve a word of "thanks."
We might think of the people from around the world who supply the invaluable products of our morning rituals. We might think of friends and family who have filled our minds with thoughts and hopes and dreams. We might think of a few of those millions from the other dimension of life who have extended to us more than a few blessings. We might think of the stinging blows of life which in themselves or of themselves have given cause for thanks. We might think of sunrises and teeth and legs and a host of other assorted things we take for granted. And we might think as well of those who got us to act like God.
My friends, heed the Gospel! Give God and give others a hearty word of "thanks."
____________
1. Alan Walker, Everybody's Calvary (London: Epworth Press, 1944).
2. William J. O'Malley S.J., Why Not (New York: Alba House, 1986).
