From whining to gratitude
28/09/14 05:23
One of the ways to interpret the stories of our people is that living freely is a continual challenge. After spending much of the summer reading the Jacob stories and eventually getting to the stories of Joseph and how the people of Israel ended up in Egypt and eventually became enslaved there, we are now into the Exodus cycle - the stories about the journey away from Egypt and slavery. In the early stages of that 40-year sojourn, it seems like the people are unable to deal with the responsibilities of living as free people. One of the things that they had to do when they arrived in the wilderness was to learn basic survival skills. The life of nomadic hunter-gathers was radically different from the life of building laborers in the semi-urban areas around the Egyptian capitol. They didn’t know how to find water in the arid landscape. They didn’t know where to look for food. The found themselves hungry and thirsty, sensations that had been less familiar during their time in Egypt.
Their biggest problem was that they didn’t trust leadership. They didn’t trust Moses and they didn’t trust God.
It almost reads like a comic book from our contemporary perspective. We know that God is the author of their freedom. We know that God has a destination in mind for the people. We know that they won’t be wanderers forever. We know that God has already done great things for them. But we don’t have the anxieties of the refugees who had so long focused on what it was they were getting away from that they hadn’t figured out where it was that they were going to.
Our lives are so settled that we forget that our heritage includes a time of being a refugee people with no home to call our own. And sometimes, when we read the stories of this part of our history, we can be quick to judge the people.
We are more like them than we care to admit.
We, too, are quick to complain without first assuming responsibility for our own actions, destiny and attitude. It is easy to so focus our attention on what we don’t have that we are unable to notice what we do have. I suspect that our prayers often sound as whiny to God as the prayers from the wilderness sound to us.
The antidote to all of the complaints, of course, is gratitude. Whenever I pause to think of the blessings I have been granted in this life, it gets pretty hard to complain. Over the years, I have seen some horrendous examples of family dysfunction and abuse. I have known stories of children whose growing-up years left them emotionally scarred. But that is not my story. I was blessed with the best parents imaginable, who enjoyed being parents and who demonstrated with their lives what a blessing it is to live in family. I grew up believing that I would one day marry and that I would become a father. When those things happened to me, I felt blessed and fulfilled. I really enjoy being married. I enjoy being a father. And we have been blessed with a wonderful marriage and great children.
Like the people of Israel, I have made some mistakes. I have been far from perfect. When I pause for confession, there are many things on my list. But, like the saying I used to hear, “So far, none of my mistakes have been fatal.” I have been given second chances and opportunities to correct my mistakes and move on. When I have hurt others’ feelings, I have been given the chance to apologize and to make amends.
I have never known hunger except for brief moments of fasting when I knew that food was available and that the fast would soon be broken. I have never had to wonder if there would be food for another meal.
Beyond the basics, I have been immersed in beauty. Perhaps every place where people live is filled with beauty, but it is easier to find in the open places where the neighbors aren’t crowded in too closely. Unlike those who live in the core of big cities, all I have to do to see the beauty of the natural world is to open my window and stick my head outside. The pine trees that surround our home, the animals who are our neighbors, the beauty of the sky day and night - all of these things are impossible to ignore when I take the briefest moment to simply pay attention.
Several years ago, a group of us had an on-going conversation about the seasons of the liturgical calendar. The Sundays after Pentecost form nearly half of the year. We wondered if it might make sense to divide the season of Pentecost and have two seasons - one to focus on the Spirit, the other a new season of gratitude. Thanksgiving is not a church holiday, though it has religious roots. The feasting and other thanksgiving traditions have grown mostly from the early days of colonial America. A season of thanksgiving seems appropriate to remind people that all we have comes from God’s graciousness.
The problem with a season of thanksgiving, however, is that it somehow implies that gratitude could be slotted into a particular set of days. If we spent certain weeks focusing our attention on thanksgiving, would we be less likely to be thankful in other seasons of our lives? Gratitude is best when it is recognized every day. Thanksgiving should be the first prayer of each day.
I find this true especially when I am feeling a bit low. Taking time to say thank you lifts my spirits.
Perhaps that is what Israel needed most in those days of wandering. Before the complaints were issued, they needed time to express their gratitude - for freedom, for sustenance, for each other, for life.
Next time I feel like whining, I hope I can remember to stop and instead begin by saying, Thank you!”
Their biggest problem was that they didn’t trust leadership. They didn’t trust Moses and they didn’t trust God.
It almost reads like a comic book from our contemporary perspective. We know that God is the author of their freedom. We know that God has a destination in mind for the people. We know that they won’t be wanderers forever. We know that God has already done great things for them. But we don’t have the anxieties of the refugees who had so long focused on what it was they were getting away from that they hadn’t figured out where it was that they were going to.
Our lives are so settled that we forget that our heritage includes a time of being a refugee people with no home to call our own. And sometimes, when we read the stories of this part of our history, we can be quick to judge the people.
We are more like them than we care to admit.
We, too, are quick to complain without first assuming responsibility for our own actions, destiny and attitude. It is easy to so focus our attention on what we don’t have that we are unable to notice what we do have. I suspect that our prayers often sound as whiny to God as the prayers from the wilderness sound to us.
The antidote to all of the complaints, of course, is gratitude. Whenever I pause to think of the blessings I have been granted in this life, it gets pretty hard to complain. Over the years, I have seen some horrendous examples of family dysfunction and abuse. I have known stories of children whose growing-up years left them emotionally scarred. But that is not my story. I was blessed with the best parents imaginable, who enjoyed being parents and who demonstrated with their lives what a blessing it is to live in family. I grew up believing that I would one day marry and that I would become a father. When those things happened to me, I felt blessed and fulfilled. I really enjoy being married. I enjoy being a father. And we have been blessed with a wonderful marriage and great children.
Like the people of Israel, I have made some mistakes. I have been far from perfect. When I pause for confession, there are many things on my list. But, like the saying I used to hear, “So far, none of my mistakes have been fatal.” I have been given second chances and opportunities to correct my mistakes and move on. When I have hurt others’ feelings, I have been given the chance to apologize and to make amends.
I have never known hunger except for brief moments of fasting when I knew that food was available and that the fast would soon be broken. I have never had to wonder if there would be food for another meal.
Beyond the basics, I have been immersed in beauty. Perhaps every place where people live is filled with beauty, but it is easier to find in the open places where the neighbors aren’t crowded in too closely. Unlike those who live in the core of big cities, all I have to do to see the beauty of the natural world is to open my window and stick my head outside. The pine trees that surround our home, the animals who are our neighbors, the beauty of the sky day and night - all of these things are impossible to ignore when I take the briefest moment to simply pay attention.
Several years ago, a group of us had an on-going conversation about the seasons of the liturgical calendar. The Sundays after Pentecost form nearly half of the year. We wondered if it might make sense to divide the season of Pentecost and have two seasons - one to focus on the Spirit, the other a new season of gratitude. Thanksgiving is not a church holiday, though it has religious roots. The feasting and other thanksgiving traditions have grown mostly from the early days of colonial America. A season of thanksgiving seems appropriate to remind people that all we have comes from God’s graciousness.
The problem with a season of thanksgiving, however, is that it somehow implies that gratitude could be slotted into a particular set of days. If we spent certain weeks focusing our attention on thanksgiving, would we be less likely to be thankful in other seasons of our lives? Gratitude is best when it is recognized every day. Thanksgiving should be the first prayer of each day.
I find this true especially when I am feeling a bit low. Taking time to say thank you lifts my spirits.
Perhaps that is what Israel needed most in those days of wandering. Before the complaints were issued, they needed time to express their gratitude - for freedom, for sustenance, for each other, for life.
Next time I feel like whining, I hope I can remember to stop and instead begin by saying, Thank you!”