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Thanksgiving

Deuteronomy 8

10 When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you. 11 Be careful that you do not forget the Lord your God, failing to observe his commands, his laws and his decrees that I am giving you this day. 12 Otherwise, when you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, 13 and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, 14 then your heart will become proud and you will forget the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. 16 He gave you manna to eat in the wilderness, something your ancestors had never known, to humble and test you so that in the end it might go well with you. 17 You may say to yourself, “My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.” 18 But remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your ancestors, as it is today.


You know something is important if there are lots words for it.

Take, for example, a memento. A quick look at Merriam-Webster will reveal synonyms that include souvenir, keepsake, reminder, remembrance, token, memorial, trophy, relic and even bomboniere. If you are confused about the last one, think tiny box with an ancient bit of wedding cake, hopefully in the freezer and not in a drawer. It’s an English word, bomboniere—meaning bomboniere.

And we tend to surround ourselves with them. Looking around the room where this sermon began life, I can see a handful of mementos from my Oma, objects that she treasured and I treasure in turn. There are two clocks, including (appropriately) a grandmother clock. There is a small porcelain creamer, which is actually a souvenir of the 1928 Olympics held in Amsterdam. And there is a painting of the family home in Voorburg, the last home before coming to Canada.

There were other objects, of course, including the ones that no one can quite recall where they ended up. And there then were the things that she saved (and we discarded) that never made sense: countless bags—paper and plastic—neatly wrapped and stored, and an ancient tin of salmon that she had obviously kept for years.

Why did she keep it? She could certainly afford to eat it and buy another. A good tin of salmon is not the cheapest item in the aisle, but not so expensive that you would buy it and never bring yourself to eat it. No, there was clearly more to it—more likely that the tin of salmon was a symbol for her.

Was it a symbol of her new home? Even now you can find salmon in the ‘Souvenirs of Canada’ section at various Pearson shops, for the last-minute memento shoppers. You will find salmon there, tucked in between the little Mounties and the overpriced maple syrup. Now the salmon is smoked and packed in some kind of golden ziplock, but it remains a national symbol.

I’m guessing it was a symbol of her new home—not in the souvenir-sense—but something more, more a reminder of plenty that followed seasons of want. Maybe it’s the same impulse as the one recorded in a sister-passage to the one Douglas read this morning:

Moses said to Aaron, “Take a jar and put an omer of manna in it. Then place it before the Lord to be kept for the generations to come.” [So] Aaron put the manna with the tablets of the covenant law, so that it might be preserved. (Exodus 16.33-34)

That jar is lost, of course, along with the lost ark of the covenant—and the tablets inside—but for a time the jar would have been an treasured object for those who lived through the wilderness experience, those who remembered days and nights of hunger. It would have been a treasured object, but with a complex meaning as described in Deuteronomy 8:

When you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, 13 and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, 14 then your heart will become proud and you will forget the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. 15 He led you through the vast and dreadful wilderness, that thirsty and waterless land, with its venomous snakes and scorpions. He brought you water out of hard rock. 16 He gave you manna to eat in the wilderness, something your ancestors had never known, to humble and test you so that in the end it might go well with you.

Suddenly that jar of manna, tucked into the corner of the ark of the covenant has a deeper meaning than simply ‘remember that some food appeared when you were hungry.‘ That simple jar represented the very human tendency to forget our dependence (and even helplessness) and think instead that we achieved something on our own.

The passage records the very outcome that God wished for God’s people: homes and herds, security and material possessions that never again should people experience the privations of the wilderness or the nightmare of bondage. But the passage also records the turn that follows every advance—’your heart will become proud and you will forget the Lord your God.’

Think of the jar of manna as a downpayment, a daily allotment of the good things that will follow in the promised land. There is a sub-theme about being satisfied and taking only what you need, but the main meaning of manna is ‘you will enjoy a future that only God can provide.’ All we are asked in return is a grateful response: “When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.”

If Linus were here, he would say “and that’s what Thanksgiving is all about, Charlie Brown.”

Taking a step back, it might be ironic that we’re talking about souvenirs, keepsakes, reminders and relics in the October of the 500th anniversary of the Reformation. After indulgences—the ability to purchase a better outcome in the next life—relics were the cause célèbre that drove the Reformation forward.

And without giving away too much of our study set for the end of the month, the proliferation of relics—the bones of saints, pieces of the true cross, and so on—and the vast sums spent on them gave fuel to the reformers’ fire. Absurdities abounded and the result was a turned away from sacred objects (and images) that made the Protestant movement what it is.

We became ‘people of the Word,’ giving all our attention to scripture and setting aside all other forms of veneration. Even our relationship with the natural world become confused, convinced that everything we needed to understand God was contained in the pages of a book.

But I would argue that the book itself points to places and objects that deepen our faith. Time and time again places are given names and meaning that represent an event in the story of the people of God. Places of testing, or trial, or places where someone met God face-to-face. Or sacred items: the tablets, the jar of manna, and the Temple that would eventually house these sacred objects.

And of course, the myriad of objects that draw us closer to Jesus. Even strict reformers couldn’t abandon the cross, though our cross became a resurrection symbol at the same time it reminded us of Jesus’ death. We still need loaves and wine, and the font that becomes a symbol of our new life in Christ.

We make meaning from objects, but we do so without the historical and moral problem of trying to determine what’s real relic and what’s not. Instead we make meaning from things that point to the story of our faith—like a simple cross—and the common objects that surround us. We give things meaning, and that meaning can strengthen our faith or remind us of important lessons—like the jar of manna.

So blessings on Thanksgiving. And “when you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land God has given you.” Perhaps you can make your own jar of manna, tin of salmon, or maybe that wishbone or some other relic of a special meal. Whatever the object, or memento, or memory, may it point the the many gifts God has given us, Amen.

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 6:28 AM