Embrace Thanksgiving

Americans will celebrate their Thanksgiving holiday on November 24th.  Each year it’s the fourth Thursday of November.  Why Thursday?  Don’t know.  But they get a day off. They run big parades, go to church, and gather for turkey’d family meals. 

A bigger question is, why don’t we celebrate it in New Zealand?  We seem to have bought into Valentine’s Day and Halloween, and all those various Black Friday sales – at least, retail businesses have … oh, wait, there’s my answer: gifts aren’t given at Thanksgiving, so of course the retailers and media aren’t going to promote it.

But we should.  Thanksgiving is its own gift, and should be promoted for its own sake.  Thanksgiving could be such a boost for the mental health of our country.  Yet we steadfastly push Halloween instead.  Go figure.

The earliest record of America’s celebration seems to have been on the landing of thirty-eight settlers at Virginia, on December 4th 1619. The group’s charter included, “that the day of our ships’ arrival at the place assigned for plantation in the land of Virginia shall be yearly and perpetually kept holy as a day of thanksgiving to Almighty God.”  There were other declarations of thanks for other arrivals and survivals, until George Washington, as President of the United States, proclaimed the first nationwide thanksgiving celebration, November 26th 1789, “as a day of public thanksgiving and prayer, to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favours of Almighty God”.

The ‘Almighty God’ in all this is evident and, pointedly, every book of the New Testament emphasises the way of gratitude, especially at times of hardship.  1 Thess 5:18 says, “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”  And, more fully, 2 Cor 4:15-18: “All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.  Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
The writer was in prison and his execution was imminent.

GK Chesterton called gratitude “the mother of all virtues”, and you can see his point.  Thanksgiving focuses on what we have and enjoy, rather than what we don’t and don’t, and can be embraced as a supplier of perspective, balance and mental well-being.

An anecdote, to reinforce:
I heard about a man who stumbled on Satan’s supply of seeds – the seeds he sows in the human heart.  There was great variety, but the man noticed, more numerous than all the others, the seeds of discouragement.  He learnt that these seeds were very hardy and could grow anywhere, under any conditions.  He questioned the keeper of the seeds, who admitted, “You are right – these seeds will grow almost anywhere.”
“Almost?  You mean there is somewhere the seeds of discouragement will not grow?”
“Yes,” the keeper replied.  “They won’t grow in the heart of a thankful person.”

Thankfulness is the antidote for discouragement.  And despair.  And complaining.  So, let’s count our blessings, New Zealand; list the things we can be thankful for, in bringing balance to our hardships and challenges.  Practise gratitude, and overcome.  And, why not do something to cement the intent on Nov 24th.

Ken F

Praction

by Bruce Gilberd

(Based on Matt 6:5-15)

Fore-prayer on Parihaka: God of history, God of grace, we give thanks for the faith, aroha and vision of Tewhiti and Tohu.  As leaders of the Christian village of Parihaka, in Taranaki, NZ, they peaceably sought justice.  May we, and all peoples, do the same in our time and place.  Amen.

I’ve invented a new word: “Praction”: Prayer <—> Action.

In today’s Gospel reading Jesus leads into giving his prayer – the Lord’s Prayer – with these words of guidance:

  • “when you pray go to your room; shut the door quietly.”
    I add: switch off all sounds, devices and distractions, and sit in a receptive position.
  • Jesus then says: “Pray to your Father, who is in this secret place.”
    I add: He is beyond us, beside us, and within us.
  • Jesus says: “And your Father who sees you in secret will reward you openly.”

So, I ask two questions:

  • What might be the essential nature of our prayer in secret solitude?
  • What might the public rewards be of our secret prayer?

To help us with these questions, I refer to this little book: Twentieth Century Men [People] of Prayer.  The author, Mark Gibbard, was an Anglican monk – I heard him speak fifty years ago.  I am still incorporating into my prayer the many insights in his pages.

The key insights for all the people covered form a three-fold trinity. They

  • stay connected to life and have broad interests
  • exercise and develop their capacity to gaze on God – contemplate
  • take costly, loving action every day

So … be widely involved in life; pray and act: Praction!

I will now illustrate, from four people in Gibbard’s book, how each lived this way in their varying contexts.

  1. Fredrich Von Hugel:

Von Hugel was the son of an Austrian Baron and a Scottish mother, born in 1852.  The family settled in Devon, England.  He was a scholar, a geologist, and a deep man of prayer, who guided many others.  His guidance could be very direct!
He was convinced followers of Jesus need to have broad and non-religious interests if they, by prayer and action – in praction, were to become mature and integrated human beings.  We must, he said, face our intellectual problems and anchor our faith in community and history.
“When I cease to take in new ideas,” he said, “call the undertaker!”

2. Simone Weil:

Weil was born into an affluent medical family in Paris in 1909.  They were agnostic Jews.  She was a seeker of truth and a woman of prayer.  She incensed her parents by giving her rations to soldiers, working in factories for low pay, and refusing to wear stockings.  She committed herself to share the hardships of those unjustly treated.
Weil fought in the Spanish Civil War for the democratically elected Socialist party, against Franco.
She died, exhausted, at 34.

Prayer led her to just action.  A complex personality who came, in her words, “to adore Christ”.

3. Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

He was born in Berlin in 1905, and executed after two years in prison in 1945.
A Lutheran by upbringing, and with a desire to be a theologian, from fourteen years of age.  Yet … he had yet to be encountered by Christ, and there were years of build-up to that.  Later Bonhoeffer asks the haunting and contemporary question, “Who is Christ for us, today?”
In 1937, when he could have pursued a scholarly career in America, and Hitler’s star was rising, and Germany re-arming, he returned to Germany and led the small “Confessing Church” – the established church had capitulated to Hitler.  This, and being implicated in an attempt on Hitler’s life, cost him his life.

But before this, he, Bonhoeffer, who also liked to dance, hike, play the piano and go to the opera – he wrote key texts for us, not least The Cost of Discipleship, and Letters and Papers from Prison.  Here we discover the essence of this man of prayer: of broad interests, of love, and of prayer, the Psalms his constant companion.

I am tempted to tell you about all the twelve people in this text – but I’ll complete with just one more – our fourth.

4. Dag Hammarskjold:

Was born in a sixteenth century castle in Uppsala, Sweden.  Died in a plane crash in 1961, on his way to try and end the war in the Congo.
He was General Secretary of the United Nations.  Politics and prayer were central to his holy and efficient life.  He was a quiet man, with incredible energy.
After his death, his journal of thirty one years was found in his New York home.  It was published as Markings.  There are one or two insights.

  • Again, the Psalms were very important to him.
  • He wrote, “We need to begin to live in self-forgetfulness.”
  • “The greater the political responsibilities, the greater the need of prayer.”
  • “I don’t know who – or what – put the question.  I don’t know when it was put.  I don’t even remember answering.  But at some moment I did answer Yes to someone, … and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that therefore my life in self-surrender had a goal.”
  • And finally from Hammarskjold, “For many of us in this era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action.”

Praction!

These four, along with Tewhiti and Tohu of Parihaka, and millions down the centuries, have been committed to

  • anchorage in the community of faith
  • broad interests in God’s world: in nature and history …. in society and politics …. in justice and mercy
  • silent, receiving, reflective prayer
  • right, loving action in society

These have been their calling, and the source of their maturing.
Which of these – wider interests, reflective prayer, right action – are you – am I – now called to develop?  I hope you will believe me, that this is possible for all of us – proceeding in a way that is true to who we are.

Let us all live this way, all the time.

No Regrets

My blog this fortnight is about Maturity.  So, if its title is misleading, sorry.  I regret it.
The thing is, I have a certain pride (some might call it smugness) in being a man of few regrets.  It’s not that I’ve never done anything wrong.  On the contrary, life has contained plenty of failures, disappointments and embarrassments.  But every decision I ever make, I make with consideration, forethought, and with the best intentions and wisdom and integrity I can amass.  So if a decision backfires or something goes wrong, there is no cause for regret, because I know that given the same circumstances and information, I would make the same decision again.  Any undesirable outcome was not the result of a poor decision.  Recovery or corrective action may be necessary, even healing or apology, and lessons may need to be learned; but regret is redundant.

However, I do have one regret.  Yes, I do.

In my early twenties a close friend was about to marry.  At a pre-wedding function I and a couple of other close friends, fortified no doubt by an ale or two, thought it would be clever to kidnap our mate.  To this day I cannot think why, by any assessment, this was a good idea.  We collared him in a hallway, dragged him away (good-naturedly and with his reluctant acquiescence), and sat in a car eating chips and wondering, what now?  We decided (again, unguided by any rational thought) to go back to the function and take money off the guests – for charity, of course – in order to get their loved one back.  It seemed like such a jolly jape at the time, and bound to be admired by all.

Well, the jape meandered to its deserved anti-climax, but I have regretted that unfathomable act of immaturity ever since.  What were we thinking?

I was reminded of this at a recent ‘fun-day’ in a nearby park.  There was a sausage sizzle and a queue had formed and there were three youths – pre-teens, I would say – who would get their breaded sausage, woof it down in a gulp, and rejoin the queue.  They thought they were hilarious, cleverly managing to secure far more sausages than anyone else and what a great ruse!  Everyone else, of course, only saw them as boorish and immature, and where were their parents?

What is maturity?  When does someone become mature?

No doubt it’s a process.  But I offer my own definition:  Maturity is a function of how much one considers the needs and feelings of others.  Yeah?  Nothing to do with age.  A very young person can be demonstrably mature.  And a very old one immature.   Others in between.
And, a person can be mature at certain times and places, but immature at others. 

A mature person probably wouldn’t even begin to judge pre-teens at a sausage sizzle!

I’ve seen my infant grandson throw a handful of Lego bricks at an infant playmate and laugh with unfeeling delight, looking around at adults in the room expecting them to share his mirth. I’ve watched people in a rugby crowd – ostensibly adult – pulling acts of the utmost immaturity.

I’ve seen my granddaughter make moves to find a third world refugee child to sponsor; and I’ve seen other acts of unexpected selflessness from teenagers.

It’s these latter behaviours we parents, grandparents, teachers, leaders (and formerly immature people, especially kidnappers of husbands-in-waiting) need to foster and encourage.  The former behaviours – the boorish, selfish ones – to be restrained and coached out of our charges, lest they become anti-social, sociopathic, or even criminal.

No, I have no regrets … except … well, there were quite a few instances of immaturity that I do regret.  There, it’s out there now.
But the ideal is to retain our child-like-ness whilst developing our maturity.  And the secret to that is learning to prioritise the needs and feelings of others.

Less of me; more of others –> no regerts.

Ken F

The Pharisee and the Publican

by Ken Francis

(Based on Luke 18:9-14; Ro 5:1-11)

Can you see it?  This scene?  This delightful short drama, painted very economically by Jesus …

I doubt he meant it as comedy, but to me it seems so comical!  Like a cartoon.  We could almost do it as a little drama … a bit of street theatre:
There on your left stands a proud, dignified looking man, pompous and cartoonish, head held high and sneering sideways, telling God how righteous he is!  Not like that sinner over there.
On your right, a bowed, cowed man, kneeling, too ashamed to come near the altar, even to look up, but deeply contrite.  All but sweeping handfuls of ashes over himself.

This second guy – the King James Version calls him a ‘publican’ (which, according to Encyclopaedia Britannica, was the label given to an “ancient Roman public contractor”), and seems to be, in Jesus’s telling, a tax collector – is hardly a cartoon though.  That wouldn’t do him justice, poor man.  But the question is, as we look at these two guys, which one is you?

Which one do you identify with?

Or, let’s say … if he is at one end of the continuum and he’s at the other, and you were asked to position yourself somewhere between the two, to indicate your disposition, where would you stand?

I’m ashamed to say that I’d be much closer to the Pharisee than the publican.
Because the inclination of my heart is to think I’m pretty good.  I pay my tithe – I pay my taxes – I try to think of others, I … I’ve never murdered anyone – honest!  I never – well, hardly ever – tell lies … or miss church on Sunday.  Yes, God I’m pretty good.  Thank you that I’m so righteous!  Not like all those sinners … out there!  Actually, I’m so pleased with myself, it’s hard to be humble.  I’m proud of my humility!  Like the old saying, I used to be conceited, but now I’m perfect!

But, where would you stand?

And … which of these two guys is the greatest sinner, do you think?

I suggest that they’re both equal sinners.  Because, is any one sin greater or worse than another?  Was Adolph Hitler any worse than … Queen Elizabeth?  We humans – we’re the ones who rank sin.  We’re the ones who say genocide is worse than … lying; or murder is worse than … theft.  But in God’s eyes, sin is sin.  It’s not ranked.
And, don’t forget, there is good in the worst of sinners, just as there’s sin in the best of us … so, let no one cast stones at anyone else, right?

In fact, what is sin?

Judaism regards the violation of any of the 613 commandments as a sin!  (We’re left to guess which of the 613 the publican had breached. He was loathed, of course, as a tax collector.)

Well, we’re not Jews, so …

Here are three slightly different views of sin:
In one sense it’s things we do.  Our sinful acts, our sinful behaviour.  Breaking the rules!  The Ten Commandments list some of them.  Murder, theft, adultery, coveting.  Things we actually commit.
A second way of understanding sin is this:  Sin is turning away from God’s purposes, from his call on our lives.  (Like sheep, we have all gone astray, wrote Isaiah.)  So, when we abuse someone, when we deny someone mercy or justice, when we watch or read something we shouldn’t, when we assassinate someone’s character, when we fail in some way to love our neighbour … we are turning away from God’s purposes.  That’s sin.  There are sins of omission, of course, just as there are sins of commission.
In another, perhaps even more telling sense, sin is who we are.  It is embedded in our very nature.  The human condition.  We were born sinful, it says in Psalm 51; Jeremiah says the hearts of people are desperately wicked. [Jer 17:9: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”]  Many think humanity is inherently good, but … can we honestly say that?

St. Augustine said sin is “a word, deed, or desire in opposition to the eternal law of God.”  And therefore, needs to be redeemed (that’s a metaphor for paying for someone’s release or deliverance): the death of Jesus is the price that is paid to release the faithful from the bondage of sin.

So, I put it to you that these two men are equally sinful, but … it’s their attitudes that truly distinguish them.  One of them (the Pharisee), like me, says, how good I am, that I am not like other men.  But the other, the publican – also like me – says, woe is me for I am a sinner.  God, forgive me.  God, save me.  For if he doesn’t, I am lost.

Commentator Matthew Henry writes, “God sees with what disposition and design people come to him.  The Pharisee seemed to be a good man, in some respects.  But he was boastful, in apparent expectation that God would affirm him, admire him, be in his debt!  Moreover, he thought meanly of others, particularly of the publican.  The Pharisee claims merit; the publican mercy.”  That is the difference that Jesus was emphasising.  The difference between the self-righteous and the mercy-seeker.  The publican’s disposition is, “Justice condemns me; nothing but mercy will save me.”

We all need to acknowledge this same truth.  No matter how good we try to be, it is only through God’s grace, through what Jesus did for us on the cross, that we can have eternal hope.  It’s important to recognise this, acknowledge it consciously, confess our sinful nature to him, and cast ourselves on his mercy, like our brother there (the penitent).  It’s kind of taking responsibility for who we are in our hearts.

This reminds me of how, as a school teacher, I sometimes found myself having to get to the bottom of teenage conflicts of various kinds, and meting out disciplinary consequences. I might ask some antagonist what happened, and they’d start saying something like, “Well, he tripped me” or “she stole my homework”, or …
Typically, I’d interrupt with, “Ok, but what did you do?” They might say, “Well, I wouldn’t have … if they hadn’t …” And again I’d say, “But what did you do?”
It was commonly difficult to get an adolescent to own his or her own actions – to take some responsibility for what had happened!

The publican was accepting responsibility for his sinful behaviour or nature.

Yes, we are all equally guilty.  But it would be a mistake to hold all of this in a solely negative light.  At the end of this brief street theatre, Jesus sums up with God’s view of all this.  Both of these men are sinners, but only one is “justified”, he concludes.  That’s the word he uses, not me.  We cannot shed our sinful nature, but we can be confident of being justified if our attitude is right.  The Romans reading talked about justification.  Martin Luther joyously latched onto the idea of justification at the outset of the Reformation.  He described the concept of justification as “just as if I’d never sinned”, which is cute, but actually a very helpful way of thinking of it.  “Just as if I’d never sinned.”

All our own righteousness “is as filthy rags” (the prophet Isaiah says), but if we turn to God, we can be ‘counted’ righteous, it says in Romans.  We take upon ourselves His righteousness – Jesus’s righteousness.  Yeah?

The words righteous and righteousness – we don’t use them much in modern parlance – we use the word ‘sin’ even less – actually occur 72 times in Romans!  Ro 4:5 says: “to the one who … trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness.”
We can’t tell God about how righteous we are!  Like this guy.  How arrogant.  God laughs.  But He credits us as righteous, if we come to him as the publican did.

A delightful little parable.  Spoken, it says in verse 9, to some who were “confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else”.  Actually, it’s not a parable at all – a parable is a superficial story with a deeper meaning.  This is a straight out narrative of what’s what around approaching God.  A contrast between how to be and how not to be.

Friends, let’s get closer to the publican’s end of the spectrum …

Concluding prayer:
Father, help us to see merit in the publican’s approach to your throne.  Help us to find humility as we approach, and true regret for our sinful inclinations.  Then to receive, by faith your credit of righteousness, based on what you have done, not on our own efforts.  Then to find true gratitude, that you have taken the initiative to rescue us from whatever sin has made us.  We are enormously grateful even this morning as we reflect on these things.

Help us to walk our walk this week, with intent and integrity, and may our walk of faith please you. Amen