Gratitude

 

Why does gratitude matter? Why do the world’s great faiths—including the Psalms common to Judaism and Christianity–all carry songs of thanksgiving? Why do so many of the people I love to be around have a general aura of gratitude?

Well, of course it could be that gratitude keeps us from what St. Augustine calls ‘sin’—turning in on ourselves. When we recount our blessings—over a meal or at the end or beginning of the day—we are pulled outwards. We consider those we had contact with, the sunrise or sunset, the food before us.

Gratitude also reminds us of how much we have, when it is so easy for us to focus on what we don’t have. I’m sure I’m not the only one who is extraordinarily forgetful! I look out and see dark clouds and groan, forgetting the beautiful sunrise I saw yesterday morning. I don’t find some grocery item I want, forgetting the amazing gift of living someplace as uncrowded and unbusy as Cook County.

Part of my ingratitude is societal. We are constantly bombarded with messages, so they are like the air we breathe, reminding us that we are lacking ________, (a new recreational toy or item of clothing or appliance or labor saving device.) Or maybe we are being told that our relational life could be better; or if we only practiced _____________, (mindfulness or jogging or yoga or contemplative prayer or cycling) we’d find the peace we desire. A consumer society functions out of this—if we don’t know we are without something, why would we google and buy it?

Gratitude is also a natural counterpoint to privilege. Privilege consists of those things we don’t even notice we have—I liken privilege to paddling with a following wind. I think, my gosh I’m a great paddler, this is easy! If I turn around into a headwind, I’m stunned about how hard it is. Privilege allows me to think I have a PhD because I’m smart, rather than that I have had outstanding opportunities, time and the means for education. Privilege allows people to assume they are living in their big house rather than in a tent on an international border because they are smarter or better, rather than extraordinarily fortunate in their birthplace and schooling.

Gratitude can force us to stop and notice our privilege. In Deuteronomy, we are reminded of this:

When you have eaten your fill and have built fine houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold is multiplied, and all that you have is multiplied, 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.”

Gratitude, then, is radically counter-cultural. Just as Walter Brueggemann writes about keeping sabbath as a counter cultural act since it reinforces contentment, faith, and lack of striving—so does gratitude turn us in a fundamental way. As we appreciate what we have, as we give thanks to someone greater than ourselves, we are changed.

The apostle Paul writes, Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Thanksgiving is a holiday that should push us into this mindset. Our world tries to co-opt it, making it an initiation to consumer frenzy or a pressurized cooking contest.

Instead, we can ask God to make us grateful.

Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month’s contributor is Mary Ellen Ashcroft, Vicar of Spirit of the Wilderness Episcopal Church.