Dear Friends in Christ,
What we need is here.
It is the kind of statement we hear in scripture all the time. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. His goodness endures forever. Do not worry about your life.
It is the kind of claim we prepare to make on Thanksgiving Day. We count our blessings and
offer prayers of gratitude. What we need is here.
Do you hear how revolutionary the claim really is?
Culturally, we are constantly told that we do not have enough—that we are not enough, in fact.
Most of us go through our days taking points off. Not enough time. Not enough security. Not
enough achievement. Not enough safety. Not enough courage. Not enough peace.
And then, come November, we turn around and say something different: not that we are
wanting, and not that we scared. Instead, we say that we are thankful.
Such thanksgivings are not a polite exchange with God or a nice coda to a pleasant experience.
When we give thanks, we make a brave claim—to ourselves, to our world—that God has given
us what we need to lead lives of joy and meaning.
How do we give thanks? How do we show our trust and courage? All kinds of ways. Some of us
will say special prayers when we gather with our families around the table. I hope that many of
you will also come to Grace Church for our 10:00 a.m. Eucharist on Thanksgiving Day,
worshipping God in the beauty of holiness.
You can also give thanks by purchasing a basket for a family in need. (See the announcement in this Friday email about all the details.). Sharing in God’s generosity is one of the best ways to affirm it.
An if you need further convincing, I leave you with the words of the poet Wendell Berry, below.
What we need is here. And our lives can be different when we know that.
Yours in Christ,
Anne+
“The Wild Geese”
By Wendell Berry
Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer’s end. In time’s maze
over fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed’s marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.