It’s Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. Happy Thanksgiving!
For many, the “How do we give thanks” question arises. Especially the *how* do we give thanks … when there is unemployment or illness in our family? … when there are senseless deaths caused by terrorists, drunk drivers, those wielding machine guns, war? … when abusive substances continue to attract and ruin lives? … when we feel depressed, spiritually dry, lonely, are grieving? … when hurricanes, tornadoes, typhoons, earthquakes, famine, mass shootings, violence, “isms” are prevalent? … when abductions happen and people of all ages are forced to become sex slaves? … when we don’t know if … war will be stopped tomorrow … if peace will come to Ukraine, Palestine, Israel and more … if war will come to our own country via drones or something else … if nuclear energy will be unleashed? … when hackers, scammers, spammers disrupt our lives with growing frequency? … when we don’t know when/if another nasty virus will attack with even more fury? … when we are uncertain about the future of democracy … when we don’t know if there will be a tomorrow?
History shows that there are always people who give thanks in good times and in bad times … like Henry. Who is Henry?
Henry was a farmer from a very remote area where people could only gather for worship at great intervals.On those occasions they would witness to the blessings in their lives since the community had last assembled.
At one such meeting, Henry stood and addressed the people in halting and simple speech:“It’s been a powerful difficult year out there. The fever took our eldest daughter. Then my wife took ill and is still in bed. The spring wheat crop was mostly ruined by floods.And, oh yes, praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
Then Henry sat down.In the midst of personal disaster, Henry paused and gave thanks.
Being thankful each day, takes discipline, especially when there are financial stresses, medical concerns, family problems, scary political tactics, environmental devastations, unrestrained viruses, war and more. How can we be thankful where there is too much that distracts us from living a life of gratitude?
Maybe it is because we are looking for the “BIG” blessings to be grateful for, when there are many “LITTLE” blessings each day? Think of all the gifts that come absolutely free to most of us. * If you had to pay for the oxygen you breathe at the rate oxygen cost in a hospital, how long could you continue breathing? * If you had to pay for the sun’s heat at the rate of today’s heating bills, how long could you stay warm in winter in the western hemisphere? * If you had to pay for each of your eyes, at the rate eye damages are awarded in court (about $50,000 for the loss of sight in one eye), how many eyes could you afford? * And the list goes on.
While I believe that the Henry’s of this world live ‘thankful Living’ lives, I also believe that there are more Henry’s than we know! At Graduation ceremonies several years ago, almost a hundred students filed into their High School auditorium. Speeches were offered, but because of legal issues and court decisions at the time in their area, no prayers or blessings were allowed to be offered in the school.
When the last student came to the microphone, he looked at the students, smiled, and sneezed. And then clearly, slowly and confidently, a friend shouted “GOD BLESS YOU!” The audience exploded into applause. The point had been made.
May each of us “sneeze our way” through our Thanksgiving (whenever they happen), and realize, that in spite of the angst and fear and unknown in the world, in own personal stuff) there is always something for which we can be thankful and experience at least one little blessing.
Aaaaaccchhhooo!
Happy Thanksgiving! *************************
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A kaleidoscopic tumbling of emotions pierces conversations, thoughts and social media as words are spoken, written, texted and issues of racism, colonialism, fear and hatred surface far too often.
While we know that words can wound … we sometimes forget that words can also heal. While we know that words can cause confusion … we sometimes forget that words can also bring hope. While we know that words can bring division … we also forget that words can also bring reconciliation.
Reconciliation … a much-talked-about word in many places and is a word that has begun to be put into action. This day is a national holiday in Canada. Every year on September 30th, the “National Day for Truth and Reconciliation” is marked to encourage Canadians to engage with their colonial history, to raise awareness of indigenous cultures, and to honour the survivors of the Canadian Residential School system. That system forcibly removed more than 150,000 First Nations, Inuit and Métis children from their families, subjected them to assimilationist policies, as well as other broader injustices faced by indigenous peoples under colonial rule. This day, Orange Shirt Day, many wear orange-coloured shirts as a reminder of the missing children.
When apartheid ended in South Africa, the government sought to transform December 16th into an annual symbol of unity rather than division, creating the National Day of Reconciliation to reflect on the country’s progress in overcoming its painful past, to promote social cohesion across racial and cultural divides, and to raise consciousness about historical injustice.
As issues of racism and colonialism are rising throughout the world, giving fear and hatred through words., the word ‘reconciliation’ must become a reality – within our families, communities, countries, globally – for we all share this planet Earth.
In the exchange of words, may there be sensitivity to those whose opinion differs from our own. May we be empowered with compassion for those who are hurt by the opinions of others.
May we be enabled to move beyond woundedness, confusion, and fear, and not retaliate with words that wound, confuse, and instil even more fear.
And may we be energized with hope … hope that gives life … hope that encourages … hope that empowers reconciliation in word and action.
May we “find the courage to look at our past with eyes wide open, unafraid to see our country at its worst and then humbly, take steps to heal the damage done.” (Globe and Mail)
We’re all different. But we’re all IN – a part of – the human race. We are INterconnected INterrelated INterwoven INtertwined INterdependent INterlaced … and INteresting.
Thanks to Canadian artist, David Hayward, for the cartoon artwork and Caterine Hancock for her words: “May we never forget that the geography of our birthplace is simply luck and that is all that stands between falling asleep to the sweet sound of car horns and wind whistling and not the death dirge of warplanes whirring and bombs falling.”
Other things (AI, Robots, Space Aliens) along with differing political views may try to separate us. Ten years ago, those things, AI, Robots, Space Aliens were in the science fiction category. With recent news, they may be more science than fiction – and sooner than anyone anticipates.
But, together, remembering our common/shared humanity, regardless of our political preferences, regardless of our physical, emotional and faith differences, the human race can survive … and survive well, especially if we treat one another with respect, kindness, compassion.
The wise words of my parents “You were given a brain, use it” often surfaced throughout my life.
At the age of fifteen, I decided to leave the church of my youth which seemed to expect me to leave my brain at the door. When I would ask a question I was told “Do not question” and read the books of our faith.”
I did. And then I had more questions and continued to be told “Don’t question.”
“Don’t question”??? Isn’t that why I was given a brain? … to ask questions … to doubt … to consider possibilities … to challenge situations of injustice … to think for myself … to come to my own opinion?
When I became a parent. I intentionally taught my son to think … research subjects … be open to learning from others … discuss what he was learning … listen to the opinions of others … come to his own independent opinion.
In other words, he was raised to be a thinker – not simply go with the crowd … not to agree with my views – but to come to his own opinions about … politics … truth … relationships … religion … abortion … euthanasia … capital punishment … sexuality … and more.
I like to think that reading and doing research, becoming informed, respectfully listening to the opinions of others, discussing and debating and eventually coming to our own opinions is a responsibility.
If you/I were given a brain, surely the Giver of the Gift expects us to use the gift at all times and particularly in these difficult days of elusive truth. So, we must seek truth … we must pursue truth, even if it alienates us from loved ones, from political party adherence, from religious tenets. We must think. Think For Ourself. It is our responsibility
Tomorrow is July 4th. Americans will be marking its adoption of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 which includes this phrase: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men <sic> are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
Really? “All are created equal… have certain unalienable Rights”.
Think about this time last year when – Medicaid was about to be slashed, leaving 17 million people without health care – rural hospitals were about to be closed – nursing homes devastated – nutrition assistance for poor children curtailed – trillions added to the U.S. national debt – pregnant women were about to be prohibited from abortions – farmers (and food chain) were about to be seriously compromised
And this year, more. Much more as ICE did stood by its cruel unconscionable actions; people were kidnapped, deported, locked into buildings without adequate food, water, air, space, medical care. And more. Much more.
Have you heard the phrase “bleeding hearts,” referencing people who speak out to support those in desperate situations? On this July 4th weekend, I remember and pray for ‘bleeding heart’ Americans.
I remember and pray for those who have been and continue to speak out … against Project 2025 … against the big bad bill … against the injustices of SCOTUS decisions; who are talking about Project 2025 and acknowledging that it is real, against the man in power and those who support him.
I remember and pray for those who are holding rallies in support of minorities who face racism, hatred, victimization, migrants who have done nothing illegal … who are in solidarity with women who have been told that even if their pregnancy were caused by incest or rape or that their life were in danger, there would be no health care for them … who feel and express compassion for children whose parents can’t provide for adequate housing, medical/dental care, nourishing food, schooling, socialization.
I remember and pray in support of physicians who follow the principles of medical ethics (including medical confidentiality and non-maleficence i.e. not to inflict harm), yet who are forced to break medical confidentiality by revealing the names of women seeking abortions … who are allies of LGBTQ2S+ whose lives will be dramatically changed if draconian laws are implemented. I remember and pray for those who stand up for, stand beside, and stand with people of differing ethnicities, skin colours, sexualities, abilities, religions who are mocked, ridiculed, harassed, physically attacked, kidnapped, killed.
It is difficult to wish “Happy July 4th” when so many are not equal, even though the United States Declaration of Independence notes that its citizens “are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
They may be “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights,” but those Rights are eroded more and more each day and particularly a year ago today, July 3, 2025, when the House of Representatives voted to support what was known as the Big Beautiful Bill … when Republican politicians forgot or chose to ignore, the oaths they took to “support and defend” the Constitution of the United States.
It is difficult to wish Americans “Happy July 4th”. So I remember and pray for the people of the United States – that they have courage and strength, vision and persistence to “Keep on, Keeping On” in the pursuit of their unalienable rights by speaking out, speaking up and voting in the mid terms for people who will bring the country back to the democratic vision of the founding fathers.
Read the Declaration of Independence and see if you recognize the United States today, the way it was intended. I don’t.
“It’s hopeless. You just have to accept that. Your child will never be a contributing member of society. I can make arrangements for him to be institutionalized. It’s all for the best.” Those were the words the doctor spoke, telling the young mother that her son was “hopeless.”
Hopeless? There are many situations that many think of as hopeless … a marriage on the verge of collapse … a relationship that was desperate for reconciliation … war … a family that was estranged … a body that had run a good race for decades … corrupt politicians –
When human problems beset us … when personal lives disintegrate … when the world seems as if it has gone crazy, it seems that many seek answers from every other physician, before daring to “let go” and “let God/Higher Power/Possibility/Spirit” – before putting prejudices, loneliness, anger, frustrations, pride, hatred, fears into the transforming hands of G_d, the Holy One, the Creator, the Personification of Love, the Bearer of Hope.
How long will it be before reaching out, like the woman with the hem who touched Jesus’ garment or like Jairus, the ruler of a synagogue,= who was searching desperately for some hope. Jairus had tried everything and now, one last attempt. When he finally found the man Jesus, he fell on his knees and repeatedly cried … “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hand on her so that she may be made well and live.” Without a word, Jesus went with Jairus. And while that’s all that Matthew’s Gospel tells, the story appears in Mark’s Gospel as well and carries the story further as a messenger from Jairus’ home comes and says “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble Jesus any further?” To the messenger, the little girl’s death was the end of the story. There was no hope. There was no point in trying to go further. It was hopeless. Fear set in.
Like the day a phone call brought fear to a priest who, the evening of the phone call, wrote about The Not-Knowing-Time: “An ordinary medical test was done. Anticipating nothing unusual, and yet there was. “Redo the test” said the physician. “Nothing to worry about – but let’s rule out …” So, the test was redone and there it was. Again!“A specialist. I want you to see a specialist” she said. The rest of that day was a blur other than the ugly FEAR.“Get me to the specialist. Now! Let me know what I’m dealing with, so decisions can be made and life can be planned. The fear is not of dying. The fear is of the not-knowing.”
When we are in such fearful and seemingly hopeless situations, is the God-of-All-Knowing the first we consider turning to? Or turn to at all?
Then there’s the story of the woman who touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. The social context of the time was a significant factor. Because she was bleeding, she would have been looked upon as ‘unclean’. And as such, she was a woman, a person with no rights, and would have been shunned, at the very least, for daring to be in the company of the men who surrounded Jesus, and to touch the hem of his garment. Perhaps she prayed/hoped that her fears would be relieved.
What of the priest who wrote about “The Not-Knowing Time”? A week after the phone call, another entry in her journal: Unraveling the Not-Knowing Time. “Sunday night I wanted to stay home, curl up in bed and watch some inane television program, but I couldn’t. I had responsibilities. In that moment, I hoped that no one would show up at church that evening and I could go home. But, there they were … the two of them. I couldn’t go home. I remembered the phrase: “When two or three are gathered together, there am I, in your midst” and hoped/prayed that something happened for the two who came to church that evening and would happen for me. But, nothing happened for me. I felt no relief – no peace. “The Unknown” still haunted me as walked home. Home at last. A cup of hot tea brought solace, but no relief from the Fear of the “Not-Knowing Time”. The phone rang the next morning with a message “Your appointment with the specialist is scheduled.” The “Not-Knowing Time” had begun to unravel.”
~~~~~~~~ Many others have desperate situations. Perhaps they are facing a seemingly hopeless financial crunch … a marriage that is on the rocks … a teenager or toddler that you can’t handle … a parent who no longer can communicate with anyone in ways others remember … a spouse who is imprisoned either in body or mind … living in poverty and/or war, addicted with nowhere to turn … grieving over the death of someone loved very much …the thought of losing medical coverage – house – job – freedom … a child/spouse/partner/parent who is ill or dying … dealing with their own medical crisis … and the list goes on.
There are countless stories that remind us that no situation is hopeless. But does this mean that if there is enough faith, every dead person will be raised to life on earth? … that money for every financial need will appear?… that everyone who is terminally ill will be cured? … that a job will be provided for all the unemployed? No. It means is that we will be met in our fears and uncertainties and comforted in our Not-Knowing-Times.
Like the true story, long ago, of a wealthy woman, an atheist, who lived in Hanover, Germany. She wanted to prove to the world that there could be no resurrection. She gave orders to those who were to take care of her money after she died, to build a tomb of stone around her, so strong that her body could never rise out of it. Since there was nothing illegal about her request, the men built her a great tomb, and around it, they built an iron fence. What the builders didn’t notice was that a tiny seed fell into a crevice between two of the massive stones and one spring some years later, it sprouted. As the seedling grew into a tree, it pushed aside the heavy stones and the unbreakable tomb was cracked open.
If you go to a place in Hanover, Germany called Gartenfriedhof (Garden Cemetary), ask to be shown the Geoffnetes Grab (the grave that was opened). You’ll have no trouble finding the tomb, because out of its great crack grows the finest tree in the garden. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Her grave was opened. Hope stepped into Jairus’ life … stepped into the life of the woman with the hemorrhage and healed her body … stepped into the life of the child whose doctor pronounced him to be hopeless … stepped into the life of the priest who wrote “Knowing Time … Holy Refuge”: “Procedures have begun. Nothing untoward showing up so far. Other complications on the horizon. Getting older and having the body not move as it once did is not fun. I must try to “let go and let God.” The talk about the “peace that passes understanding” isn’t just ‘talk.’ It really exists. Should fear well up within me again… should the unknown frighten me … should the “Not-Knowing Time” seem to engulf and entrap and overwhelm and I can’t move beyond it, I hope/I pray I will relax into the gentle, caring, loving hand of Hope – of Love – of the Creator – and allow myself to move into “Knowing-Time” which, from God’s perspective – from Hope’s perspective – from Love’s perspective – from the Creator’s perspective is “Knowing-Time.” Kairos … not Chronos. “Knowing-Time” exists … whether I feel it or not. ~~~~~~~~~~~~
No matter what situation you may be in now – or you may have to face in the future – with God, there are no “Not-Knowing-Times.” There is always hope! Consider these …
—- on a wall in Dachau prison, these words were scratched: I believe in the sun even when it isn’t shining. I believe in stars even when I see them not. I believe in God even when God is silent.”
—- In a tiny room in a refugee camp in Sri Lanka, four women were teaching songs to barefoot, dirty, scantily-lad children. Since there was no room to sit, they all stood for this brief respite from the noisy, hot, humid, dusty and impossibly crowded communal living area. On the door, crudely printed, were these words “Life is a gift from God.”
The refugees in war-torn Sri Lanka, the concentration prisoners in Dachau – they knew Hope – they knew Love – they knew another word for Hope, for Love – they knew the Creator, God, By Whatever Name … even in the midst of a terrifying yesterday, a bleak and often hungry today, and a potentially fearful tomorrow.
May we never forget that even sturdy tombs crack open! … that Hope/Love/God enters lives, enters the “Unknown Times”), enters the moments of apparent hopelessness.
