DATE: November 23, 2014
SCRIPTURE: Luke 17:11-19; Ephesians 3:20-21
©Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
That’s how it was for me on Wednesday night, when many of us gathered for the Interfaith Thanksgiving worship over at Norfield congregational Church. The Rev. Kelly Rogers preached, and she recalled the story of Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness, standing on the banks of the Jordan River, preparing to cross over. And I thought: there it is again: that story about the Israelites, threading its way through our collective lives this season, with that tale about wandering through the wilderness and coming out the other side. We know this story by now – many of us here at Saugatuck Church – having read pieces of it throughout this fall season. Now, here was Rev. Rogers, making a connection between that ancient saga and our own Thanksgiving. Here’s what I heard, what God whispered in my ear as she preached.
The first thing you do is say thanks. The first thing. That’s what Moses told the Israelites, as he prepared them to cross over into the promised land after those 40 years of wandering: Thank God for having arrived, for having sustained us, for having envisioned a place, for having poured out the milk and provided the honey. Moses wouldn’t be going with the Israelites; he died on the far side of the Jordan, before they completed the last leg of their journey. But as he prepared to pass the mantle of leadership to Joshua, he said this to the people: Don’t forget. Never forget the Source of all good things, the One who got you this far; the One who remains with you, even now.
When you lay the foundation of your new home. When you plant the seeds and harvest the grain. When you welcome each new baby; as your families expand; when your wealth increases …remember to say thanks. Before the paint even dries on newly erected walls; while the feast is still hot on the table; while that newborn baby cries her first cry; before you put the profits in the bank: go to God with gifts of gratitude. Don’t forget.
It’s a directive that follows us down through the ages. Why? Because we do forget. We get distracted by our good fortune. We admire our own work. Sometimes, we’re even tempted take all the credit. It feels good to claim responsibility for our own success, our own flourishing. Good – and logical, maybe even obvious. After all: It is we who put in the time and the labor; it is our clever problem solving; or our attention to detail; our persistence, or intelligence – or both – that got us where we are. In countless ways, small and large, we tell ourselves this: that we have earned what we have, by what we’ve done in life, by the ways we’ve applied our inherent gifts and cultivated our skills.
But that claim leaves something fundamental out of the equation: the power and presence of God; all the ways that God has given to us, invested in us; all the love and sweat and tears, the care and the company. Forgetting to give God thanks is like preparing a mouth-watering Thanksgiving feast, and failing to credit the farmer; it’s like making a graduation speech and neglecting to thank your mom and dad.
So we have these 10 lepers. All of them suffering a debilitating illness that makes them social outcasts – excluded from the life of the community and the temple. They’ve been exiled from town, forced to fend for themselves outside the protective gates of the city. Then one day, along comes this man Jesus. Even they have heard of Jesus, even these social pariahs have picked up a bit of gossip from passers-by. So Jesus’ approach is occasion for hope: this man who has created such a buzz, this one who seems to ignore the cultural norms, who looks women in the eye, discusses holy scripture with mere fishermen, sits at table with tax collectors and enjoys the company of children.
Perhaps he could do something for them, too. Offer a blessing, put in a good word for them at the temple. Something. “Jesus, have mercy on us,” they cry. Jesus directs them to go to the priests, so they turn and head off down the road. Along the way, they find themselves healed of their leprosy. All ten of them. One, a Samaritan, does a 180, races back to Jesus and throws himself at Jesus’ feet to say thanks.
The others? Well, they don’t. It seems they forgot. Maybe they were too busy giving themselves the credit: for being smart enough to ask Jesus for help, or righteous enough to have somehow earned this miracle. Maybe they just couldn’t wait to show themselves to the priests the sooner to be declared clean, so they could rejoin the community. Maybe they figured they’d write a thank you note once they got home.
In any case, they kept going; only one turned back. And when he did, when his gratitude tumbled out of him in a rush, Jesus said this: your faith has made you well. Your faith: Your remembering that God is the one in whom we live and move and have our being… that has made you well.
Well. Not just cured. Well, as in, whole. As in: it is well with my soul. That’s what gratitude does – it makes us whole, because it reminds us that we, whoever we are and whatever we bring, we are only half the equation. God – and God’s extravagant love – that’s the other half. This is good news on the best days; it’s better news on the difficult days: when the walls are falling down and the crops refuse to grow. When new life eludes us and illness encroaches; when our only deposits are a few coins between the cushions. Even then, especially then, we are called to say thanks.
Oprah Winfrey and Maya Angelou once had this converstation. Oprah was distressed about something that had been said about her in the tabloids, that wasn’t true. Maya Angelou, said, Stop right there and say thanks.” “Why?” asked Oprah. “It’s not true.” Maya replied, “But you know that in every cloud there is a rainbow. There is a way through. So say thank you, right now.”1 For God who sustains us. For God who walks with us. For God who shows us the way through the wilderness.
I suspect that the tenth leper knew this, long before he met Jesus on the road that day. I suspect that he was already in the practice of saying thanks, that he had taken to heart the words of the ancient patriarch Moses, and filled his days with gratitude, one way or another. That would explain why he, among all the other lepers, remembered what they forgot. Because giving thanks, first thing, was already a habit. Like the psalmists who sang: I will bless the Lord at all times. [Psalm 34:1]
This morning, we are all invited to give thanks to God, maybe even to make of our thanks-giving a habit – a faith-filled routine designed to remind us that we are only half the equation. Like the tenth leper, we are being invited to stop in our tracks, to do a 180 and race back to Jesus; to say thank you for what God has done, and what God has yet to do within us, among us and through us.
In 2015, Craig and I will pledge 6.5% of our income to the ministries of Saugatuck Church. We do it, to remind ourselves that all we have belongs to God, that it is all gift. Craig can speak to the reasons that inspire his giving. For my part: I do it to say thank you to God for calling me to this amazing, difficult, surprising, soul-stretching, heart-expanding work of ministry. I do it to say thank you for the privilege of walking with each of you, and bearing witness to human hope and struggle. I do it to say thank you for autumn leaves that erupt in color and feed my spirit when I am feeling spent; and for the amazing prophets and teachers in my life, who instruct me in the ways of patience and grace, hope and gratitude.
I pledge in order to give thanks for the demanding work of dismantling racism, and homophobia and poverty – and for partners who hold me accountable, who forgive my own stumbling and wait for me to catch up when I need to. I give thanks for all the gifts we can bring to bear as together we build God’s beloved community: for the brilliant questions our children ask, and the lessons they teach. For the music we sing, and the dramas we write, and all the other signs that God’s creativity emerging among us. This week, I give thanks for movers who stay calm and good-humored; for hand carts to carry the heavy boxes, and folks who work overtime to get us settled into our old-new home at 245 Post Road East!
For all those reasons, and dozens more, I write that monthly check. And in the writing, I remember (because I need reminding) that we have a partner in this amazing ministry, one who is the Source of all good things, the One who got us this far; the One who remains with us, even now.
That’s why I say thanks. How about you?
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Scripture Texts
LUKE 17:11-19 – NRSV TRANSLATION
11 On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, 13 they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” 14 When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. 15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. 16 He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? 18 Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”
EPHESIANS 3:20-21 – NRSV TRANSLATION, REVISED
20 Now to God who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, 21 to God be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.