Gratitude

With Thanksgiving upon us, the theme of gratitude fills our world, and with it, often lots of heart-warming stories of appreciation, gifts, and pleasant surprises. 

The practice of going around the table and saying what we are grateful for has always felt a bit artificial, like I have to come up with something good and real, but not too real and deep, because these answers are keeping us further from dinner.  I remember someone sharing a story shared with me, from when they were probably about 10 years old and were sent to a grocery store to get something that was forgotten in the pre-holiday shopping to a store about a 10-minute bike ride away on a particularly cold Thanksgiving Day.  When they left the store, they discovered it had in fact started snowing.  Since this was pre-cell phones, the only viable option was to race home as quickly, but safely as possible, with, not an appropriate number of layers for snow on.  They related how that year, feeling the warmth of their home when they arrived made them realize that things they took for granted were actually quite meaningful and appreciated; but that, as a 10-ish year old, that moment of clarity quickly faded.

Rabbi James Stone Goodman shared a story heard on NPR from a competition for the “best” Thanksgiving gratitude story.  One of the two that tied to win, was a woman who worked on a family ranch with her husband and aging father.  In harsh conditions, amid inflation, and moving a bit slower as they aged, the ranch was starting to cost more to run than they made in profit, but they persisted.  Then she tells of how, in a particularly difficult, dry year, they finally got an inch and half of rain that healed the land, settled the dust, and made everything a little easier.  You would think this is what she was grateful for – but that wasn’t her takeaway.  She knew the one rainstorm wouldn’t be a cure-all for their challenges.  Rather, what she expressed gratitude for was the undying hope her father held – that despite all the challenges, despite the drought, despite inflation, despite aging bodies, despite it all, that they were in this together as a family, keeping the ranch alive with the hope that the next season would be as fulfilling.  In this woman’s words, it was the “sacred possibility of the future” that she was grateful for.

This year, I’m finding it more difficult to find that hope.  For nearly two-months showing support for Israel, and seeking to free Gazans from Hamas, secure the safety of Israelis and Jews, worldwide amid spiking antisemitism has been emotionally exhausting.  It feels hypocritical to sit down to a large, Thanksgiving meal, when the world feels so precarious.  I think this is why Rabbi Goodman’s NPR story struck a chord – that despite all the challenges, despite the world feeling like it’s a dumpster fire these days, that we can find hope in the sacred possibility of the future.  That we can find comfort in family whether by blood, marriage, or those we’ve ‘adopted’ along the way to face the challenges ahead.  May our hope sustain us through this weekend, this winter, and beyond.