Sometimes, it is hard to be thankful. 2020 was a confusing time, and the lingering race hate, tribal paranoia, and fear of death still hangs in the air, all this despite the fact that life has never been safer or more leisurely. Two centuries ago, nearly half of young children died from illness. 90% of workers toiled in agriculture. In tribal societies, still a large portion of the world in 1800, 30% died violently. Slavery, an institution without controversy for all of human history, was only beginning to be rejected in Western nations. Even now, a salary of less than $40,000, puts you in the top 1% globally.
America seems to be devolving, returning to a more
tribalistic and adversarial culture, ruled more by Game Theory than
patriotic unity. Political violence is sometimes defended or encouraged. Who
among us argues anymore that Civil War is impossible? During the pandemic, much
of America was forced to hunker down in their homes, stripped of human contact.
The children of America were robbed of education and social interaction. A
generation of infants had to discern human emotion on masked faces. Thousands
of restaurants and small businesses collapsed. Nearly every marker of
dysfunction in society, crime, mental illness, substance abuse, overdoses,
child abuse, and domestic violence, has soared into the air like a lost helium balloon.
In 2019, Anti-patriot Colin Kaepernik, who, I think
played sports at one time, spent the “National Day of Mourning/Unthanksgiving
Day” with Native American activists on Alcatraz Island. With all due
respect to the Irish, who can hold a grudge as well as anyone and really do put
out the best
revenge movies
in the business, the Native Americans celebrating “Unthanksgiving” are the
champions of resentment. They will not just get on with life, thank you,
and they want you to know where you can stuff your turkey.
The thoughts that come to mind of the first Thanksgiving
are food and good feelings of ethnic harmony. The images are not false, though
a bit sanitized. The Pilgrims fled persecution and found freedom and prosperity
in Holland. Their children learned Dutch and took on Dutch habits. And because
these Puritans judged Dutch Christianity to be frivolous and superficial, they
again set sail to protect the souls of their children. Transoceanic journey in
1620 was perilous. They knew they risked the lives of their entire community because
pleasing God was worth more than life. Their passage cost them 7 years of
indentured servitude. They succumbed to starvation and pestilence, but their
greatest fear was attack by Indians. Four months after their arrival, an Indian
brave walked out of the woods. As the terrified Pilgrims watched him approach,
in English, he proclaimed, “Welcome.” What followed was the peaceful Patuxet
sharing their knowledge of the land, of plants that were poison and plants that
were medicine, of how to work the land and grow unfamiliar crops like corn and squash.
Yet, even with this assistance, the Pilgrims continued to suffer crop failures,
disease, and extreme weather. Their eventual prospering, which really just
meant having enough to eat, came after years of unspeakable toil. Out of the
110 Pilgrims and crew, less than 50 had survived the first winter. By 1623, they
were down to a few dozen. Their survival was indeed miraculous, but their suffering
had been tremendous. Likely, every family was still grieving the loss of a
mother, father, or child. Rather than give thanks, they could just have easily
asked God why He punished them so, when all they were trying to do was His will.
Sarah Josepha Hale, the great, great, great
grandmother of Mrs. Omnipotentblog, wrote “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” was the
first female editor of a magazine, and pestered Abraham Lincoln mercilessly
until he established Thanksgiving as a national holiday. When Lincoln issued one
of multiple proclamations of Thanksgiving in July 1863, the country had been
stunned days earlier by the carnage of Gettysburg. Lincoln wrote, “It has
pleased Almighty God to hearken the supplications and prayers of an afflicted
people…I invite the people…to render the homage due to the Divine Majesty, for
the wonderful things he has done in the Nation's behalf…all those who have been
brought to suffer through mind, body, or estate…to lead the whole nation
through the paths of repentance and submission to the Divine Will, back to the
enjoyment of union and fraternal peace.” At this point of the war, violence and
disease were taking 500 men a day. Soldiers described battlefields choked with
bloated corpses such that one could almost walk across without touching ground.
What did Lincoln have to appreciate, really? A year earlier, his beloved son,
Willie, of whom Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, stated he could have ‘sh_t in
Lincoln’s hat’ and Lincoln would have called it grand, died of Typhoid Fever. Lincoln’s
wife, already on the knife’s edge of sanity, began her rapid descent into total
madness. Lincoln’s mother had died when he was 9, leaving him in the care of a
cruel and unrelenting father. It left him prone to bouts of crippling doubt. During
the war, the cares of the world etched visibly on his face, his countenance
becoming more ashen by the day, Lincoln was so depressed at times that friends
refused to leave his side for fear he would kill himself. And yet, he
persevered. In the final proclamation in October 1863, as it became more
evident the North might prevail, he wrote, “The year that is drawing towards
its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful
skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to
forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so
extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the
heart which is habitually insensible to…Almighty God…(We) fervently implore the
interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation…”
We live in a time where some believe the chief virtue
is revolutionary zeal. Yet, without gratitude, happiness is not only difficult
to come by, it is impossible. Meister Eckhart wrote that if the only prayer you
ever said was “Thank you”, it would be enough. While no one argues the world is
good and right, the grand secret of life may be to simply endure and be
thankful. So, to all those reading this, and to everyone who has shown me the
least bit of kindness in the last year, I say, “Thank you”. And I encourage you
to leave a comment below with something you are grateful for. God bless.
