Deuteronomy 8:7-18; Luke 17:11-19
You’ve probably heard the claim that
anyone can become an expert at something by practicing it for 10,000 hours. Now, apparently other experts say that isn’t
exactly true, that all the practice in the world isn’t going to let me nail a base
stealer at second like Salvador Perez does.
Fair enough. But still, all that
practice is certainly going to sharpen your skills. If you practice a foreign language for 10,000 hours,
you can become pretty proficient in it.
If you make 10,000 fancy meals, you can become a pretty fine chef. Practice may not make us perfect, but practice
does make us different. Practice changes
us, forming us for good … or for ill.
So, this is Thanksgiving, not just our
national day of eating and self-reflection but also a feast on the Episcopal Church
calendar. It seems this isn’t just a
historical remnant of Abraham Lincoln’s gratitude for Union victories, nor a
sanctified day of overindulgence, nor the calm before the storm of Black Friday,
our national feast of consumerism. This
is Thanksgiving, when our readings, at least, call us to pause, to marvel at
all that we’ve been given, and to reflect on where it all comes from.
It seems we humans have a deep need for this
kind of reorientation, given that Moses’ admonitions to the people of Israel
ring perfectly true to us 3,000 years later.
Standing before the Israelites as they’re about to cross over the Jordan
into the Promised Land, Moses gives his valedictory address, his last chance to
guide the people as his own life is ending.
Moses paints a lavish picture of the abundance they’re about to
receive. He says, the Lord is bringing you
into a land of flowing streams, wheat and barley, grapes and figs, pomegranates
and olives, iron and copper; “a land where you may eat bread without scarcity,
where you will lack nothing.” (Deuteronomy 8:7-10). Interestingly, the Europeans who came to
these shores saw this land of the New World in similar terms and, on their best
days, blessed God for it … even as they also took it away from the people they
met … again, like the Israelites.
Anyway, Moses’ point isn’t just that the
people’s time in the wilderness is over.
His point is the responsibility that comes along with such astonishing
blessing. “When you have eaten your fill
and have built fine houses and live in them,” Moses says, “…then do not exalt
yourself, forgetting the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of
Egypt, out of the house of slavery…. Do
not say to yourself, ‘My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this
wealth.’ But remember the Lord your God,
for it is he who gives you power to get wealth….” (Deuteronomy 8:12-18) And when you remember, Moses says, let that
memory guide you into the practice of faithfulness: “[K]eep [God’s] commandments, his ordinances,
and his statutes…,” Moses says (8:11).
Remember, and follow God’s ways.
Remember, and live by God’s love.
So, this is Thanksgiving, here to remind
us of the same truth Moses saw: Our blessings are not our own. Our blessings are on loan to us from God, and
God expects us to pass them along, to steward the incredible abundance we
receive and then share it, both with the people around us today and with the
future yet unborn.
What do we need to do in order to be
formed into those people God longs for us to be? What does Jesus ask of the lepers whom he
heals, bringing them out of the darkness of exclusion and into the blessing of
relationship? He asks them, simply, to
say thank you.
It’s no accident that our lives of prayer
and worship are focused on giving thanks, especially for we who are blessed
with this rich Anglican tradition of ours.
Every Sunday, in fact, we celebrate Thanksgiving. You may have missed it, in the same way a
fish doesn’t notice the water in which it’s swimming. But every Sunday, and right here this
morning, we gather at God’s altar to celebrate Thanksgiving. It even says so in the Prayer Book, both in
English and in Greek. This is a
congregational-participation sermon, so please get out your prayer book and
turn to page 361. Look about a third of
the way down the page, where we begin to offer the prayers that invite Jesus to
come into our midst in the bread and wine of Holy Communion. There, you’ll see the title of this section
of the service: “The Great
Thanksgiving.” The priest says, “Let us
give thanks to the Lord our God,” and the people respond (go ahead, respond):
“It is right to give him thanks and praise.”
And the priest continues, saying, “It is right, and a good and joyful
thing, always and everywhere to give
thanks to you….” Every Sunday, we celebrate
this Great Thanksgiving, and we offer it as the centerpiece of the larger service
of Holy Eucharist. That’s the Greek word
I mentioned before, eucharist. Know what it means? That’s right – thanksgiving.
Of course, there are many ways we each
fall short, every day. Like the people
of Israel, we aren’t always so good at keeping God’s commandments, ordinances,
and statutes, which is why we offer a confession most Sundays, in addition to
our thanksgiving. But I believe God
isn’t looking for perfection from us. I
believe God is looking for us to be continually formed as followers and
witnesses of Jesus Christ. And a huge
part of that formation is the spiritual practice of simply saying
thank-you. Saying thank-you to God
10,000 times may not make us experts in being followers and witnesses of Jesus
Christ. But I’d say it’s a pretty darned
good start.
So, here’s your Thanksgiving challenge: As you begin each day, and as your end each
day, make it a practice to say thank-you to the source of your being and your
blessing, the source of light and life.
Our Anglican tradition has recognized the helpfulness of that daily practice
by giving us the gift of the services of Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer,
which I would certainly commend to your use.
But even if you’re not ready for that quite yet, let me recommend to you
one piece from Morning and Evening Prayer.
It’s called the General Thanksgiving, and it’s a treasure for the way
its language both delights our ears and shapes our hearts. I told you this was a congregational-participation
sermon, so let’s finish it up by offering together the General Thanksgiving,
found on page 101 of the prayer book:
Almighty God, Father of all mercies,
we your unworthy servants give you humble
thanks
for all your goodness and loving-kindness
to us and to all whom you have made.
We bless you for our creation,
preservation,
and all the blessings of this life;
but above all for your immeasurable love
in the redemption of the world by our Lord
Jesus Christ;
for the means of grace, and for the hope
of glory.
And, we pray, give us such an awareness of
your mercies,
that with truly thankful hearts we may
show forth your praise,
not only with our lips but with our lives,
by giving up ourselves to your service,
and by walking before you
in holiness and righteousness all our
days;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit,
be honor and glory throughout all
ages. Amen.
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