Philippians 4.4-14
In my seventy-first year of life …
My forty-eighth year of marriage …
My forty-fifth year of ordination …
My third year of grandparenting …
I’ve learned a few things …
In all likelihood, just a few …
But of those lessons learned …
If I could go back in time, one thing I’d do is pay a little more attention to the people around me …
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker …
And Mrs. Blout … she led opening exercises for Sunday School, every Sunday morning, at the Third Presbyterian Church in Altoona, PA … I would spend a little more time with her … to know her story … what made her laugh, what made her cry … her faithfulness … I’d pay a little more attention to Mrs. Blout.
A spiritual exercise I learned years ago …
Walk a street slowly … look at things … small things … sidewalk paving stones … a gum wrapper tossed aside … a pop can in the gutter … ponder the story in each of them … someone designed that pop can … someone slacked their thirst with its contents … someone threw it aside when they were done with it … were they sad, were they glad … in a rush, or going nowhere at all?
Everything has a story, where it began, where it ends … probe the story, play with it, embellish it, let it grow … all the people behind that pop can … the sugar cane and the farmer, the factory and the worker … the trucker who brought it into town, the teen behind the counter who sold it to the thirsty customer.
Whenever my children went anywhere, I’d always say to them: “Use all of your senses … smell the odors, taste the foods, hear the sounds, see the colors, touch the textures … store it all away in your memories.”
From the smallest of things to the largest of stories … in everything, the whole world … in every person, humanity … in every tree, a forest … in every mountain, a mountain range … in every person, God …
The stuff of life … all around us … joy, terror; smiles and trials … folks on their way to a hospital bedside, maybe on their way to a new job … off to a wedding - maybe their own … on the first leg of a well-deserved vacation … some on their way to a funeral … some on their way to new beginnings; some on their way to bitter endings.
In Graham Green’s novel, The Power and the Glory, a Mexican priest, jailed for observing the Mass, in a time and place when Catholicism was outlawed … behind bars, the priest reflects:
When you visualized a man or woman carefully, you could always begin to feel pity … that was a quality of God’s image carried with it, writes Green … when you saw the lines at the corners of the eyes, the shape of the mouth, how the hair grew, it was impossible to hate. Hate was just a failure of imagination.
Imagination? All of us can use a little imagination now and then … the up-close and personal kind that really sees the eyes of another … to really look at people … and things … and places … to use all of our senses - to really see and truly feel the world around us …
When I lived in Detroit, I did a lot of bicycling … in two very large cemeteries … great for biking: well-kept roads, little traffic … lovely trees, manicured lawns …
And acres of tombstones … and all the names … and all the words carved into stone: “devoted mother, loving wife, beloved grandmother.”
I could always hear the assurance of the dead: “We made it, and you will, too.”
Through thick and thin, sick and sin … from wilderness to Promised land …
The great stories of our faith: a pillar of cloud by day, fire by night … manna in the morning, water from a rock …
Voices of wisdom: Joshua, Jeremiah … Miriam and Deborah … Matthew, Mark, Luke and John … Paul and Peter …
Voices to encourage, voices to help … when Pope Francis paid us a visit, he spoke of 20th Century voices, Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton …
I could add to that Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa …
Writers like John Steinbeck and poets like Robinson Jeffers …
Artists like Georgia O’Keeffe and David Horsey of the LA Times …
Past political leaders: Teddy Roosevelt and his trust busting … his cousin, FDR with Social Security … Eisenhower and the Interstate Highway system … John F. Kennedy, Ich bin ein Berliner …who was killed this day, 52 years ago in Dallas … Lord, have mercy.
Voices … lots of voices, voices all around us … voices of the dead; voices of the living … voices of hope and voices of healing … voices to challenge our complacencies … point the way ahead … voices to help us take up the work of kindness and mercy … voices to remind us of life’s high ambitions and our great ideals …
Pay attention … and give thanks … for a million small and wonderful things … for big voices and smart people … faith, hope and love; grace, mercy and peace … the gospel of light … folks who believe in you and me … teachers and preachers … and a kajillion other people, and billions of light years and the mystery of space and time.
Paul the Apostle says:
Rejoice in the LORD always … do not worry about anything … but in everything … by prayer … with thanksgiving …
After church today, our Thanksgiving Dinner … later this week, Thanksgiving Day … oh, I know, holidays are sometimes bittersweet … and more the occasion for tears and heartache …
But wherever and however, pay attention to the small things … let your imagination dance … give heed to memories that are good and hopes that are sweet …
And with that, let me close with a poem, of my own writing (LORD, have mercy) an Ode to Mashed Potatoes …
Let me count the ways I love thee …
The common tator … a tuber … from the ground …
Just like you and me …
Maybe we feel something in common with this common ground thing …
They’re not picked, like apples or pears …
They’re dug …
Like good music … or hangin’ out with folks we love …
Lots of different sizes … and colors … in a lot of different places …
We do have a lot in common, don’t we?
With the humble potato …
Peel ‘em … if ya’ want …
But I like to leave the skins on …
Adds texture … as it should be … the whole potato …
As God intended.
Into a pot of water …
Turn on the heat … lots of good things need a little heat …
Cook ‘em not too hard …
Test ‘em with a fork …
Drain ‘em and put ‘em back into the pot …
And now the good part …
A couple of butter chunks …
A generous splash of cream … I mean: be generous …
Maybe even some cream cheese …
A little horseradish?
Rosemary?
Thyme?
Salt and pepper …
And a little elbow grease …
Smash and mash these remarkable gifts from God …
Not too much, just enough …
To blend it all together …
Taste to your heart’s content …
That’s what I love about cooking …
We get to sample everything before you do.
Can it get better?
You bet …
On the plate they go …
A fork-full will satisfy all your desires for comfort …
Just like home …
But like all good things … these good things go well
With a chorus of other good things ….
Gravy …
Giblet gravy …
Corn and slabs of carefully sliced turkey, neat and precise … though I prefer the dark meat … a tad bit unruly …
Cranberry relish on the side …
And how about the country cousin, the sweet potato … with its famous hat,
The marshmallow … all white on the inside, with golden trim …
And who knows what else …
Start with potatoes, and who knows where it’ll end.
But start with potatoes …
A very common thing …
And it will end well …
As all good things do …
Happy Thanksgiving … Amen!
