"GOING HOME FOR THANKSGIVING"

Joel 2:21-27; Matthew6:25-34; 1Timothy 2:1-7

It seems to me

that we are the only people in the world

who can take a holiday

designated as a day for giving thanks //

and turn it into a Woody Allen movie.

Why is that?

Maybe it's because we only designate one day a year

as a day of thanks.

Maybe it's because we have listened too closely

to Martha Stewart //

or read too many issues of Southern Living //

or let Rachel Ray fool us into thinking

we can get the whole turkey dinner done

in thirty minutes or less!

Maybe it's because

we've let too many other things

get associated with Thanksgiving Day -

like football classics,

or hunting season,

or prelude to the biggest shopping day of the year.

Maybe it's ancient family expectations

that we think we have to live up to.

Maybe it's ancient family internecine warfare

or knowing that a loved one won't be there this year

that makes us not want to go home at all.

But whatever it is,

it seems to me

that we have made Thanksgiving Day

into a whole lot more

than a turkey dinner

and time to be with those we love.

Bob Shelton, my professor from Austin Seminary,

always used to say

that home is that one place we can go,

wherever it is,

and sleep as long as we want.

I think Bob has never had to make Thanksgiving dinner!

Neither has the person who chose the lectionary readings

for Thanksgiving Day.

Have no anxiety?!

Yeah, right!

Have no anxiety when you've run out of half-and-half

and Brookshire's just closed.

There may be one quick prayer of thanksgiving

once the turkey is FINALLY done.

And maybe that's why you're giving thanks!

But there's usually at least a ten-to-one ratio

of anxiety and work to thanksgiving and rest.

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Friends,

if this is what you and I are looking at

when we "go home for Thanksgiving" on Thursday,

or any other day, for that fact,

I think maybe we've gone to the wrong house.

That kind of living

is not what God intends for us.

It was Saint Augustine

who famously prayed,

"Thou hast made us for thyself,

and our hearts are restless

until they rest in thee."

Restless anxiety over what tomorrow may hold -

or even what today may hold -

is a sign

that our hearts have not found their true home.

Any home outside of God

is in the wrong neighborhood.

True,

we all have to live somewhere.

But living anywhere other

than within God's deep and abiding love

means that we are living in anxiety.

We have to choose

where it is that we are going to live;

we can't live in two places at once.

In our reading from Matthew this morning,

the verse right before our reading

is one that is both familiar and foreboding to us.

"You cannot serve God and wealth.

THEREFORE," Jesus says,

"Do not worry about your life."

Tom Long says

that "the lifestyles of the rich and famous

are the lifestyles of the vulnerable and fearful.

Living THE good life

and living A good life

pull in opposite directions."

We can't live in two places at once.

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Those who know their way around real estate

know that when you're choosing a new home,

the top three things to consider

are "location, location, and location."

Choosing to live in God's house

means that we choose to live

in God's good creation:

a place where lilies are gorgeous

and sparrows abide in safety,

a place where worry cannot change a thing

and loving care is given to even the tiniest resident.

In Psalm 84, the psalmist says,

"I would rather be a doorkeeper

in the house of my God

than live in the tents of wickedness."

Even the most menial position in God's kingdom

is better than anything we might construct on our own.

That's all well and good,

you might think.

But lilies don't have to make house payments.

And sparrows don't have kids to put through college.

Fair enough.

But Jesus is talking about more than birds and flowers.

Jesus is talking about

what it means to live within God's abundance.

Choosing to live anywhere but God's house

means that we are choosing to live in anxiety.

We are choosing to live in a way

that says there will never be enough:

enough time,

enough money,

enough security,

enough love.

Choosing to live in anxiety

means that we choose to believe

that there is not enough to go around,

and that no more will be given.

And so the proper response to that anxious stance

is to keep everything you have,

to get good protection

so that you can keep what you have from others,

to secure even more at the expense of others,

more than you need,

more than you will ever need.

And when we choose to live there,

we don't have a chance

of ever coming to know that anxiety is seductive.

Anxiety seduces us into thinking

that we can save ourselves with our things.

But if we can convince ourselves

to set our anxiety aside

and take up residence in God's house,

we will see in a heartbeat

that scarcity is a lie.

We will be able to see with our own eyes

that because the world is held

in the hand of our generative, generous God,

there is enough.

And there will always be more.

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So how do we get to that spot?

How do we get ourselves

from where we are now

to our heart's true home?

The most direct way to get there

is by doing

what we are really supposed to be doing on Thursday:

to give thanks.

I want to suggest a way to give thanks,

but it's going to involve a little Hebrew lesson.

In the Old Testament,

there was a prayer form used by the Hebrews

that they call "Baruch Attah."

The first part of it goes like this:

Baruch attah Adonai Elohenu melek ha-olam.

It means,

"Blessed are you, Lord God, king of the universe."

You can try the Hebrew if you WANT,

but it will probably be easier

if you try and say it in English!

Repeat after me:

"Blessed are you, Lord God,

king of the universe."

Good!

The rest of the prayer has a certain form

that gets more specific.

It goes this way:

Blessed are you, Lord God, king of the universe,

that you are like this,

and that you have done that,

and that you have taken care of us in this way.

And as we pray that way,

it becomes really easy

to go to God later on for what we need.

That's the order Jesus gives us in Matthew this morning;

seek first the kingdom of God,

and everything else will be added.

But we tend to reverse that order, don't we?

Usually we go to God when we need something,

and then later on,

IF we remember,

we tell God that we are grateful.

But the "baruch attah"

is the way that God's people pray all throughout the Bible:

Moses, and David, and Daniel, and Mary,

and Deborah, and Elijah,

just to name a few.

In their prayers,

all of them begin with their focus on the character of God.

And then, because this is what God is like,

they trust that everything else will fall into place.

I want for us this morning

to consider trying the Jewish practice

of saying a hundred "baruch attahs" a day.

Can you imagine what it would be like

to find one hundred occasions every day

to say "Blessed are you Lord God,

King of the universe,

that you created men and women with intelligent minds

to invent alarm clocks

so that I could wake up on time this morning?"

Or, "Blessed are you, Lord God,

King of the universe,

that you have caused the sun to shine

and the rain to fall

so that the fruits of harvest could be gathered

and made into this breakfast cereal?"

That would turn us around, wouldn't it?

What the Jews sought to accomplish

with saying "Baruch attah" a hundred times a day

was to find joy in every aspect of life

because of their sense

that God is behind it all.

You and I, on the other hand,

live in packaged houses and eat packaged food,

and we can buy bananas and tomatoes

and cantaloupe year round.

We've got lots of appliances

that run on lots of electricity

to make our lives easier.

Given that,

it's easy for us to forget

that God is the source of all.

The value of saying a "baruch attah"

is that we keep remembering

that God is king of the universe,

and that we are not,

and that God is therefore in control of all that happens,

and we are not.

And because that's so,

everything will be quite alright.

Even when it's not.

Finding a hundred reasons

to say a "baruch attah" every day

will teach us what to say

when those negative twists and turns

come our way.

When those times happen to us,

as they surely will,

our "baruch attah" might sound like this:

Blessed are you Lord God,

king of the universe,

that you have created us with spirits that trust you,

that you have undergirded us throughout our lives,

that you throughout history have been ever faithful.

That's not exactly a prayer that you would hear

in a Woody Allen movie.

That's the kind of prayer

that could blow a hole clear through the highest anxiety.

That's the kind of prayer you can say to yourself

as you chop up celery for your mom's dressing recipe,

as you clean up after the dog one more time,

as you sit down to a Thanksgiving Day

that is nothing like you thought it would be.

And that's okay.

You're not living in a Woody Allen movie.

You're living in God's economy.

Blessed are you Lord God,

king of the universe,

that you have created lilies and sparrows for our delight,

to remind us of the abundant loving care

that you shower on us every minute of every day,

and to grace our lives with thankfulness and joy.

Amen.

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I am grateful to Tom Long and his commentary on Matthew from the Westminster Bible Companion series; to Walter Brueggemann and his essay "Dayenu!" from his collection of essays The Covenanted Self; and to Marva Dawn for her sermon on Matthew 6 in A Royal "Waste" of Time:  The Splendor of Worshiping God and Being Church for the World.