Thanksgiving
By Richard Burke
We feel like we are so blessed.
Like with our families, particularly: our grandkids, non-stop sources of wonder; our children, who, among other attributes, are terrific parents; and our parents who are now with a God but who spent lifetimes nurturing us.
Like, in our garden. We thank God for his creations, the ones we are trying to take care of. We say it aloud, regularly and often.
Like in our country and circumstances, including the freedoms, responsibilities and opportunities we share.
Like our friends and neighbours, who are friends without reservation.
Like our church, especially our priests who guide us to be better people.
They offer the following thoughts on Thanksgiving.
Fr. Kevin Tumback:
One of the keys to thanksgiving is the awareness that everything we have comes to us as a gift from God and nothing we have really belongs to us, for when we die we leave with nothing. Everything we have is given to us to give glory to God and assist us in loving God and our neighbor. Just a couple thoughts.
Fr. Lukas Drapal:
Thanksgiving is a civil holiday. For Catholics, however, it's a type of prayer. We have prayers of praise, petition, intercession, adoration, and worship. The prayer of thanksgiving has its roots in gratitude; everything is a gift from God. With many political and economic blessings in our country, we easily take things for granted, and we often inculcate a sense of entitlement. While we may see things as a right, the proper lens the Church looks through is the lens optic of gift. The greatest gift to humanity is the Incarnation: the gift of God Himself. This gift of His presence is extended through the Eucharist. The Eucharist is Christ's promise to be with us "until the end of the age". We need to be grateful to God for this beautiful gift.
Fr. John Koehler, All Saints Parish pastor 2011-12, now teaching at the Seminary in Edmonton:
The one reference from the Bible that I think of from time to time is from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians: “What do you have that you did not receive? And if you received it, why do you boast as if it were not a gift?” (4:7).
We know that the word eucharist is rooted in the Greek word for thanksgiving. So the mass, the celebration of the Eucharist, is a way of saying thanks to God. Yet, the celebration of the Eucharist is much more than a convenient expression of thanks, like in a hallmark card. In the Eucharist we share the mystery of God’s self-gift to us in Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, and his gift back to the Father. In the Eucharist we say thanks to God, but God gives us the words and the way to say it.
Fr. Tim Boyle, All Saints Parish pastor 2001-12, now pastor at Claresholm:
Some years ago I came across the Dayenu Jewish thanksgiving prayer. Perhaps we should all write our own Dayenu. Here is a contemporary version of this old Jewish prayer.
A Passover Prayer – Dayenu Hebrew for “it would have been enough.”
To have walked the earth today. Dayenu.
To have been a verse in your song. Dayenu.
To have been mortal. Dayenu.
To have seen the face of another. Dayenu.
To have been your face to another. Dayenu.
To have tried and failed to love you. Dayenu.
To have not tried and yet been loved by you. Dayenu.
(source unknown, prayed at Temple Israel, Dover, New Hampshire)
Dayenu –Dee Ledger, 6-4-2014
Perhaps it is enough to sit still,
this waiting room with a view
French glass opening onto roofs littered
with empty beer cans and cigarette stubs.
Perhaps it is enough,
This small evidence of last night’s party and
the morning workmen patching leaks
their course grunts and occasional garrulousness
communicating volumes of misery and raucous hope
in hallowed cheeks
finally set to task.
Perhaps it is enough to live outside of lives misunderstood
or unknown
or yet explored
if the lingering there brings desire to become acquainted
truly and well
despite the awkwardness of introduction.
Perhaps it is enough to finger the threads
of prayer shawls in temples
those of youth or old age,
Eleusinian mysteries,
and relational kindness however brief from back rows or balconies.
Perhaps it is enough to stand at crossroads or crosswalks
with the migrant or his midnight mistress both who
wait, wait, wait
Looking for the opening,
The moment that the crowded van
Pulls up and offers a ride to another construction site
bid on fault-lines
knowing that another family will eat tonight
and maybe tomorrow too.
Perhaps it is enough to see in part, to be known in part,
to love deeply though in part.
our fractured fragments of beauty rising up again to be blessed
and re-fused in the morning light
like the rounded flask purchased from a glassblower long ago in a Swedish park.
This glass is strongest he said as he spun the rod
and pointed with his other hand to the fissures
flowing like tributaries or maybe scars.
Perhaps it is enough to be one tear flask among many
like those in the side museum
here at the Church of the Annunciation
gathered and kept as silent witness to those sighs
and frights too deep for words.
Perhaps it is enough to hold tenderness in the palm of your hand
Zorba’s butterfly seeking breath the reversal of conclusion
if only imagined for a day, a week, or a lifetime.
Perhaps it is enough to gather strength on the side lines
through music, song, and a solitary dance
Outposts of pouring, this bread, this wine
of exquisite ecstasy.
Perhaps it is enough to leave this empty chair and wait upon Elijah
or Jesus or whatever new prophet should suddenly appear transcendent in the
Sheol of subway station during rush hour,
the wail of sax for your salacious happenstance and spare change.
Perhaps it is enough to hear hearts beating across these states of mind,
The be- in the longing,
the almost I am.
Like with our families, particularly: our grandkids, non-stop sources of wonder; our children, who, among other attributes, are terrific parents; and our parents who are now with a God but who spent lifetimes nurturing us.
Like, in our garden. We thank God for his creations, the ones we are trying to take care of. We say it aloud, regularly and often.
Like in our country and circumstances, including the freedoms, responsibilities and opportunities we share.
Like our friends and neighbours, who are friends without reservation.
Like our church, especially our priests who guide us to be better people.
They offer the following thoughts on Thanksgiving.
Fr. Kevin Tumback:
One of the keys to thanksgiving is the awareness that everything we have comes to us as a gift from God and nothing we have really belongs to us, for when we die we leave with nothing. Everything we have is given to us to give glory to God and assist us in loving God and our neighbor. Just a couple thoughts.
Fr. Lukas Drapal:
Thanksgiving is a civil holiday. For Catholics, however, it's a type of prayer. We have prayers of praise, petition, intercession, adoration, and worship. The prayer of thanksgiving has its roots in gratitude; everything is a gift from God. With many political and economic blessings in our country, we easily take things for granted, and we often inculcate a sense of entitlement. While we may see things as a right, the proper lens the Church looks through is the lens optic of gift. The greatest gift to humanity is the Incarnation: the gift of God Himself. This gift of His presence is extended through the Eucharist. The Eucharist is Christ's promise to be with us "until the end of the age". We need to be grateful to God for this beautiful gift.
Fr. John Koehler, All Saints Parish pastor 2011-12, now teaching at the Seminary in Edmonton:
The one reference from the Bible that I think of from time to time is from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians: “What do you have that you did not receive? And if you received it, why do you boast as if it were not a gift?” (4:7).
We know that the word eucharist is rooted in the Greek word for thanksgiving. So the mass, the celebration of the Eucharist, is a way of saying thanks to God. Yet, the celebration of the Eucharist is much more than a convenient expression of thanks, like in a hallmark card. In the Eucharist we share the mystery of God’s self-gift to us in Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, and his gift back to the Father. In the Eucharist we say thanks to God, but God gives us the words and the way to say it.
Fr. Tim Boyle, All Saints Parish pastor 2001-12, now pastor at Claresholm:
Some years ago I came across the Dayenu Jewish thanksgiving prayer. Perhaps we should all write our own Dayenu. Here is a contemporary version of this old Jewish prayer.
A Passover Prayer – Dayenu Hebrew for “it would have been enough.”
To have walked the earth today. Dayenu.
To have been a verse in your song. Dayenu.
To have been mortal. Dayenu.
To have seen the face of another. Dayenu.
To have been your face to another. Dayenu.
To have tried and failed to love you. Dayenu.
To have not tried and yet been loved by you. Dayenu.
(source unknown, prayed at Temple Israel, Dover, New Hampshire)
Dayenu –Dee Ledger, 6-4-2014
Perhaps it is enough to sit still,
this waiting room with a view
French glass opening onto roofs littered
with empty beer cans and cigarette stubs.
Perhaps it is enough,
This small evidence of last night’s party and
the morning workmen patching leaks
their course grunts and occasional garrulousness
communicating volumes of misery and raucous hope
in hallowed cheeks
finally set to task.
Perhaps it is enough to live outside of lives misunderstood
or unknown
or yet explored
if the lingering there brings desire to become acquainted
truly and well
despite the awkwardness of introduction.
Perhaps it is enough to finger the threads
of prayer shawls in temples
those of youth or old age,
Eleusinian mysteries,
and relational kindness however brief from back rows or balconies.
Perhaps it is enough to stand at crossroads or crosswalks
with the migrant or his midnight mistress both who
wait, wait, wait
Looking for the opening,
The moment that the crowded van
Pulls up and offers a ride to another construction site
bid on fault-lines
knowing that another family will eat tonight
and maybe tomorrow too.
Perhaps it is enough to see in part, to be known in part,
to love deeply though in part.
our fractured fragments of beauty rising up again to be blessed
and re-fused in the morning light
like the rounded flask purchased from a glassblower long ago in a Swedish park.
This glass is strongest he said as he spun the rod
and pointed with his other hand to the fissures
flowing like tributaries or maybe scars.
Perhaps it is enough to be one tear flask among many
like those in the side museum
here at the Church of the Annunciation
gathered and kept as silent witness to those sighs
and frights too deep for words.
Perhaps it is enough to hold tenderness in the palm of your hand
Zorba’s butterfly seeking breath the reversal of conclusion
if only imagined for a day, a week, or a lifetime.
Perhaps it is enough to gather strength on the side lines
through music, song, and a solitary dance
Outposts of pouring, this bread, this wine
of exquisite ecstasy.
Perhaps it is enough to leave this empty chair and wait upon Elijah
or Jesus or whatever new prophet should suddenly appear transcendent in the
Sheol of subway station during rush hour,
the wail of sax for your salacious happenstance and spare change.
Perhaps it is enough to hear hearts beating across these states of mind,
The be- in the longing,
the almost I am.