Over the river, and through the wood,
  To grandfather’s house we go;
       The horse knows the way
       To carry the sleigh
  Through the white and drifted snow.

This is one of the most popular poems/songs about Thanksgiving. I wonder if anyone has ever had such an idyllic experience. Certainly as time passes it becomes more the stuff of a Currier and Ives print than an actual memory.

We may imagine making such a Thanksgiving journey, but I remember going to grandma’s in the family’s 1963 Buick Le Sabre (our version of the sleigh). It was only three-miles to my maternal grandmother’s home. It was never snowy at this time of year in Virginia, but the song still felt just right. There was anticipation and happiness in the idea of going to our grandma’s house and eating grandma’s cooking.

Nowadays my Thanksgiving Day trek is to my mother’s house (where I grew up) in my yellow 2005 MINI (hardly a sleigh, more like a sled). It is not as quick a trip, but it gives me time to put aside my daily life in order to prepare for being home. Now it is not my grandmother or mother who has done most of the food preparation. That usually falls to my sister. Since she has retired (how can it be that my little sister is already retired?) she can arrive earlier in the week, and take her time with cooking instead of trying to do it all in one day. My responsibilities are opening the wine, saying the blessing, and after the feast to washing the dishes.

Thanksgiving is not the idyll of my childhood, but it is still a wonderful homecoming. It is a time of sharing. It is a time of gratefulness for the blessings of the year. It is a time of gratefulness for the trials of the year. Yes we can be thankful that we have made it through the trials and are once again together as a family.

It is also a time for memories of those years of going to grandma’s house. There are also memories of gathering walnuts from the lot next door and cracking them with my dad in the driveway. There are memories of mom cooking in the kitchen while she tried to get a view of the Macy’s parade on the black & white TV in the living room. There are memories of whipped potatoes, peas and pearl onions, turkey, stuffing and gravy, pumpkin pie, and the first Christmas specials of the year. We make memories at holidays and as time goes by our memories make our holidays.

I pray that between the parades, football games, turkey, pie and your other holiday traditions and memories, you will make time for gratitude. Gratitude for family, friends, the harvest, the good earth, the sky of blue, the hope that we see in ground gone fallow, memories, and the love of God who so richly blesses you.

Finally, as it is written in the Letter to the Hebrews, “do not forget to do good and share what you have”[1] for there are many whose memories will not sustain them. They need each of us to share our memories and our abundance that they might have a bit of Thanksgiving in their lives too. Bless them and yourself as you make new memories of abundance shared with all of God’s family.

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[1] Hebrews 13:16

“When you were a child, you knew yourself to be co-creator of the universe. But little by little you forgot who you were. When you were a child, everything was about color. Now you pick black as your automatic font color, because that is the coin of the realm. When you were a child, you traveled from place to place by dancing, and now you cultivate stillness, which is great, but you are forgetting how to move to the music of your soul. You can hardly even hear that inner music over the clamor of all your obligations.”—Mirabai Starr

As I read the above quotation this morning I felt myself traveling back in time to my childhood. I remembered doing one thing or another “just ‘cause.” For example, walking along the edge of a curb like some high wire artist. Jumping in a puddle just to make the splash. Wearing colorful clothes that might be mismatched but otherwise pleased me. There was freedom because I did not know the rules, or better, the restrictions by which society says we are to live. Of course, there are many good societal rules that help us function and get along. But mismatched clothes, balancing acts, and puddle jumping are not part of that.

From the very beginning when God invited the human to name the animals, and the first couple to tend the Garden of Eden, God has invited humanity into a relationship of co-creator. God’s creation, so the poem of Genesis 1 goes, is “good” and even “very good,” but not perfect. We are called by God to care for creation. We are also called to use the resources of the world along with our hands and minds to continue the creative processes that God started.

So much of being a good child is squelching the creative impulse we are born with. Too much of being a good child comes down to coloring within the lines. By the time we become adults we have been socialized into leaving the creative impulse behind. I expect that is why society finds artists, musicians, dancers, computer programmers, philosophers, inventors and other creative types strange and hard to deal with. These creators never let their God-given spirit for co-creation get stifled. The rest of us may be envious of that. Their creativity may remind us of how we were made to feel  or uncomfortable with the creative impulse within ourselves.

However, I think it is never too late to write a poem, jump in a puddle, explore the world, sing a new song, roll in the grass, paint a picture or in some other wondrous way to express what has been held back for the sake of decorum. Reconnecting with the child within is not regression, but rejoining with God and the creative person we were created to be. It might be frightening or intimidating at first, but give it a go. You might be what the world calls a late bloomer. If so, it is better to bloom late than never ever to have bloomed into the spectacular flower God envisioned you to be.

Bishop John Spong is thought by some in church circles to be a radical. Before becoming Bishop of Newark, Spong was the rector of St. Paul’s in downtown Richmond. Stately St. Paul’s is the church closest to the Virginia Capitol. It is also known as the church of Robert E. Lee. It was hardly a hotbed of radicalism when Spong was its rector in the 1970s. But Spong did earn a reputation as a progressive Christian working for civil rights, against segregation, and promoting awareness of social justice issues. He was also known for his less than traditional interpretations of scripture.

Since leaving St. Paul’s to become bishop he has often returned to preach during St. Paul’s annual Lenten series. These sermons are recorded. One year I used one of those sets of sermons as the basis for a Bible study class. The members of the class were longtime Richmonders and many remembered Spong’s tenure as rector of St. Paul’s. They recalled how he was viewed as a radical and how he had shocked staid Richmond in the 1970s.

Yet as we listened to the sermon series much of what he said did not seem so radical. Some of what he said was certainly different from what many of us grew up with. His sermons were thought–provoking, but they did not seem radical. Rather he was asking us to think in a different way and look at scripture using a different set of lenses from what we used to. The students who remembered him as shocking and radical thought that he was making good sense. They did not argue with him so much as they agreed with him. While I had expected a bit of a battle in the class instead we all seemed to feel at ease with what Spong was preaching and teaching.

The quote at the top of this post might seem contrary to traditional Christian teaching but it is not contrary to Christ at all. When Jesus taught and preached two thousand years ago he often said that following the rules was not the point. Rather the rules or law were to guide us to a way of life that was marked by two things: loving God and loving each other. When the young lawyer asked Jesus what was the most important commandment he did not answer with one of the Ten Commandments, instead he said, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy soul, with all the heart, and with all the mind. And…thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” That is, the holiest of the Hebrew scriptures—The Torah (law) and The Prophets—could be summarized in those two verses of scripture from Deuteronomy (6:4-5) and Leviticus (19:17-18).

The radical Bishop Spong is saying nothing more radical than what Jesus said to his followers two thousand years ago. Spend your life loving God and each other. Love without limits. By doing so you will be stretched to be all that God created you to be. You will be a loving image of the loving God. That is all there is.

John McGuire Chinn, better known as Johnny Mac, Mac or Macy, was my mother’s younger brother and my uncle. He died a few days after his birthday in early September of this year at the age of 82. He loved the neighborhood of his birth, White Oak in Stafford County. He loved his wife Harriet, and he had special affection for all of his nieces and nephews. He loved and took in stray cats and dogs. He loved all wild creatures and the changing faces of nature. He could write poetically of the coming of autumn, the bursting forth of spring, the heat of summer and the apparent barrenness of winter.

He loved to tell stories about people and their foibles. He also loved regaling anyone who would listen about the rough and tumble times of his childhood in the country, the characters of the area with names like Puddinhead, Gene Autry, Indian Joe and more. But when he told stories about his family his tone of voice always turned reverential. He loved and respected his parents and forebears.

He was eighteen years old when I was born. I was his first nephew. To me as much as he was my uncle, I admired him and idolized him like a big brother. When he got a flat top haircut I begged and begged my mother for the same, but she would not relent. When he got a gray, white and black stripped cardigan I wanted one too. When my parents bought me a sweater similar to his I was beside myself with joy, “It is just like Johnny Macs,” I exclaimed.

Johnny Mac, like so many in that family, was a great teacher. My dad labored day after day trying to teach me how to tie my shoes. In five minutes with Johnny Mac I was tying my shoes perfectly. My Dad also struggled to teach me how to throw a football. After just a few minutes with my uncle I was passing like a pro.

When I was in fifth grade I almost lost my right foot in a tractor accident. It was my fault, but when my uncle found out he was furious with my father. His was so protective of me that he almost got in a fistfight with my father.

There are many other ways in which my uncle was a mentor and idol for me. However, in recent years we had grown apart. I found it difficult to have a conversation with him on most any topic. It was very sad.

It was even more sad for me when, in his last days, he distanced himself from his family, especially my mother and us children. I wanted to help. I reached out, but I was not able to get through. The uncle that I loved and admired so much had become an enigma.

So I go back to the early days. I remember the haircut, sweater, shoelaces, football, and a hundred other gifts he gave me out of the generosity of his heart. A heart that God loved and that loved God back in its own idiosyncratic way.

I thank God for his life and for all of the lives listed in our bulletin today. For how each of them showed us an aspect of God unique to that person and our relationship with them. Life is like that. We catch glimpses of God in the people we love. Like an infinitely faceted diamond or sapphire that reflects God’s light out into the world stunning us with its unique beauty. That light penetrates us and becomes part of us. Then it shines back out into the world that needs it so.

“Kneeling” by R. S. Thomas
Moments of great calm,
Kneeling before an altar
Of wood in a stone church
In summer, waiting for the God
To speak; the air a staircase
For silence; the sun’s light
Ringing me, as though I acted
A great role. And the audiences
Still; all that close throng
Of spirits waiting, as I,
For the message.
Prompt me, God;
But not yet. When I speak,
Though it be you who speak
Through me, something is lost.
The meaning is in the waiting.

The above poem by Welsh poet and Anglican priest R. S. Thomas (pictured above) amazes and moves me each time I read it. The opening line places me in a familiar situation; one to which many Christians can relate. Although in each reading I am brought up short by his use of the definite article before God. It is as if he, and we, need to be reminded that there may be many little “g” gods in our lives, but there is only one “the God” who speaks.

His description of the light is reminiscent of Jacob’s Ladder upon which angels ascend and descend from heaven. In this case it is silence that goes up and down that stairway. While the light that illuminates the stairs I imagine also surrounds him like a spotlight on an actor giving a soliloquy in a great play.

Yet even in the spotlight he is not alone. There is a “close throng of spirits” who surround him, undoubtedly the “cloud of witnesses” who are the believers who have gone before him in prayer and will also follow him in prayer. He, despite being in the spotlight, is never alone when waiting on God.

What he is waiting for is to be prompted to speak. Indeed, he has not knelt to pray with his own agenda in mind, or if he did he has cleared it away. He is waiting for God to put the words in his mouth, much as God did with the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel. And that is what prophets do; they speak the word of God not their own words. A prophet’s job is to communicate God’s word to the people, which is why the prophets are so fearful of speaking.

Yet, for the prophet the act of speaking is not what is so meaningful. Speaking is the outward action of the prophet’s waiting and discerning. But it is in waiting and listening that the prophet and poet receive their prophecy and find meaning in their relationship with God. The act of speaking, though that is what they are called to do and what provides meaning to the listener, is almost anticlimactic for the prophet.

It is somewhat like when we listen to a musical recording. For the listener it is hearing the recording that is meaningful. For the performer it was the moments before and during the making of the recording that held meaning. It was then that the performer experienced the transcendent moment they are attempting to share. But there is no way to completely share the experience that the performer or prophet or poet experienced. It belongs to that person alone. All attempts to share are as imperfect even as they are necessary to share.

Ultimately, for all of the beauty of the images in the poem, it is the last line that is so profound. There the poet reminds me that it is not my activity, it is not my plans that are important. It is the waiting for God to speak that gives meaning to my life. It is the anticipation that enlivens me. It is in the waiting that I am set free from the world and my ego so that I might become the person God created me to be.

Br. Curtis Almquist, SSJE shared these words online this week “We have been created in the image of God, whose opening act in creation in the Book of Genesis is generosity. The words ‘genesis’ and ‘generosity’ spring from the same etymological source. Long before death pulls from your grip what you cannot take to the grave, acknowledge it all as gift, and gift it back to God as an offering for God’s use. Participate in God’s generosity.”

It may seem a little strange at first to read that God’s first act in creation was an act of generosity. Yet, think of your own life. When you prepare a meal for someone is that not an act of generosity? Perhaps you are not a cook, but an artist. When you paint a picture, take a photograph, write a poem or story, or write a song is that not an act of generosity? Whenever we give of ourselves to another we are being generous of our time, or talents, or wealth. We are saying with our actions that we want to share what God has given us with another person.

Likewise, when God chose to create the heavens and earth and all that is therein God was giving of Godself to the world that God had imagined and would create. God did not need light, but God realized that the creatures to be created would need light. Similarly, all creatures would need water to live, but as God imagined it some creatures would live in water and some would live on dry land. As God continued to create God would see that each bit of creation was good. In the end all of it would be very good in God’s sight.  

As Br. Curtis wrote above, it is from this original act of creative generosity from God that we learn to be generous to God and to one another. Because we are made in God’s image, our acts of generosity are in our bones in our very DNA. To deny generosity to others is to deny God and to deny ourselves. If we are not generous we are not fulfilling our essence. If we deny our essence which is of God, then we deny God.

What’s more everything we have is of God. No person is self-made. All are made by God. All our gifts, talents, and attributes are from God. When we realize this fundamental fact, we can realize that whatever we have is really ours to give away in the most profligate and generous way possible.

The adage is “you can’t take it with you” so give it away while you can. Give to others all that you have been given as a steward. As St. Francis wrote, “For it is in giving that we receive.” Give as God has given to you and share in God’s generous acts of giving to all creation.

Last Sunday we observed St. Francis’ Day with a Community Interfaith Blessing of the Animals. It was the second time Emmanuel Church has worked with the National Sporting Library & Museum to hold this event. In attendance were more than 180 people and over 100 animals–dogs, horses, cats, a parrot, an owl and a rabbit. We also blessed collars, harnesses, photos, and other appurtenances of beloved animals. Offering the blessings were two Episcopal priests, a Presbyterian pastor, and a Rabbi. It was a wonderful celebration of God’s creation in a beautiful setting full of many animal sounds.

What struck me so much was the deep affection that people have for the animals in their lives. I certainly know how devoted people are to their household pets. But my awareness of the love that people have for their working animals, farm animals, show animals, sporting animals, and wild animals was magnified incredibly.

We offered this blessing to each animal individually. “[Animal’s Name] may God bless you and watch over you and over those who love and care for you. May you have joy in your life together in the name of the one God who created and sustains us all. Amen.”

It is a simple blessing. It is not long, overly pious, overly theological, or cute. Invariably, after I had given an animal this blessing I would look up to see the animal’s caregiver with tears in their eyes or hear a choked up “Thank you” for the blessing. Our relationships with animals are important. It is not by accident.

In Genesis 2:19-20 we read how God formed the animals form the earth and then had the human being name them with the hopes of finding a companion. While the Adam names them, none are found to be the perfect partner. While none of them are the perfect helper, the exercise of naming them cannot help but create a bond of affection between the human and the animals. Later God makes the human beings the caretakers of the garden and all that is in it.

Despite expulsion form the Garden of Eden, the relationship between humans and animals remains strong. We depend on animals for nourishment, transportation, carrying loads, work, for sport, for affection, and for love. We cherish these relationships. We cherish these creatures. We marvel at animals’ abilities, loyalty, and human-like affection.

St. Francis was on to something when he preached to animals. He also looked at them as part of the created order and knew that they too were beloved of God. So we bless those special to us, treat them with care and affection, and share our existence with them here and in the world to come.

In honor of St. Francis whose Feast Day is October 6 we have a translation of “The Canticle to Brother Sun.” This is considered the first great poem in vernacular Italian.

Most High, all powerful, good Lord,
Yours are the praises, the glory, the honour,
and all blessing.

To You alone, Most High, do they belong,
and no man is worthy to mention Your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures,
especially through my lord Brother Sun,
who brings the day; and you give light through him.
And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon
and the stars, in heaven you formed them
clear and precious and beautiful.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
and through the air, cloudy and serene,
and every kind of weather through which
You give sustenance to Your creatures.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Water,
which is very useful and humble and precious and chaste.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
through whom you light the night and he is beautiful
and playful and robust and strong.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Mother Earth,
who sustains us and governs us and who produces
varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.

Praised be You, my Lord,
through those who give pardon for Your love,
and bear infirmity and tribulation.

Blessed are those who endure in peace
for by You, Most High, they shall be crowned.

Praised be You, my Lord,
through our Sister Bodily Death,
from whom no living man can escape.

Woe to those who die in mortal sin.
Blessed are those whom death will
find in Your most holy will,
for the second death shall do them no harm.

Praise and bless my Lord,
and give Him thanks
and serve Him with great humility.^[3]

One of the spiritual emails I receive is called “Brother Give Us a Word.” Each day the Society of St. John the Evangelist (SSJE), a monastic order of Episcopal men in Cambridge, Massachusetts, sends out a short quotation from one of the brothers. The concept goes back to early Christianity when seekers would go to the Desert Fathers and Mothers and ask them to “Give me a word.” The seeker was asking for a word of wisdom or pithy spiritual advice that would help them in their spiritual journey. today they are usually a quote lifted from sermons or writings of the brothers.

This week Br. David Vryhoff wrote, “The call to follow Christ is a call to a lifelong process of conversion. It requires us to let go of our former identities – built on our gifts, our achievements, and our social standing – in order to embrace a new identity in Christ. It invites us to become changed people: people whose lives are characterized by love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and humility. It summons us to treat every person we meet with dignity and respect, seeing that they too are made in the image of God.”

Br. David lets us in on a little secret. Conversion is not an overnight occurrence. As the old joke goes, “When the tourist asked directions a man (who unbeknownst to the tourist was a concert pianist) ‘How do I get to Carnegie Hall?’ The pianist answered, ‘Practice. Practice. Practice.'” One might be able to designate a starting point or particular event that spurred conversion, but conversion is a process not an event.

To be converted to Christ is not just to accept that Christ is one’s savior. That merely marks the beginning of the process of converting the person we have been for all of our life to the one that God calls us to be. Regardless of how or where we are raised we have identities, loves, cares, achievements, fears, foibles, and many more attachments which make up the person we are. We have to shed those in such a way that the light of Christ that is within us can shine through.

Each day, month and year our conversion, if we are mindful, continues. We may appear to be the same person but we change to become more Christ-like. The former attachments fall away and are replaced by “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and humility.” These are the characteristics exhibited by Jesus as he reflected God to us in human form.

It is not easy, this conversion business. It requires patience with one’s self as we let go of some things and get a firmer grasp on others. It may seem scary at times. We may wonder where the old, familiar me has gone. Others may ask the same question. But as we live into what Richard Rohr calls the “authentic self” we will feel more at home in our skin because we are becoming the person we were meant to be from before the beginning of time.

To subscribe to “Brother Give US a Word” and other publications of the Society fo St. John the Evangelist go to https://www.ssje.org/subscribe/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2Zd10Fx1O4

Click on the play button in above image and watch the short video.

As you do so pay attention to how your respond. Do you smile? Do you tear up? Do you feel lighter and happier? Are you like the pedestrian in the background wearing and infectious grin? My hope is that, at least for a moment, your day and your life has been brightened.

This is how we are born to be. God does not create us for the anger and misery that so many of us feel and feel the world is dumping on us. God created us for joy. God created us for joy in one another, in nature, in art and music, in food and drink, and culture and literature. God created us for joy and wonder in all things in this world.

Sadly, there is something within our nature that wants these so much that we feel the need to have it all for ourselves. When that happens the joy is spoiled. Indeed, it is no longer joy we feel but greed, lust, pride, and envy.

It is especially sad because as these little boys know intuitively, love and joy are meant to be shared. When shared they are not lost. Rather, when love and joy are shared they grow. The love and joy we share comes back to us like the hug between two little friends who cannot believe they great fortune in seeing each other on the street.

Maxwell and Finnegan show us what we are made for and how we are made to be. They are God’s love in motion and action. A light that lightens each other’s hearts and brings smiles to the faces of everyone with eyes to see.