A Message Delivered by The Rev. John D. Painter at the Metuchen-Edison Area Interfaith Clergy Association Thanksgiving Service. Metuchen Reformed Church, Metuchen, New Jersey November 25, 2008

Text: Deuteronomy 8:7–18

For the LORD your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with flowing streams, with springs and underground waters welling up in valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land where you may eat bread without scarcity, where you will lack nothing, a land whose stones are iron and from whose hills you may mine copper. You shall eat your fill and bless the LORD your God for the good land that he has given you.

Take care that you do not forget the LORD your God, by failing to keep his commandments, his ordinances, and his statutes, which I am commanding you today. 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, who led you through the great and terrible wilderness, an arid wasteland with poisonous snakes and scorpions. He made water flow for you from flint rock, and fed you in the wilderness with manna that your ancestors did not know, to humble you and to test you, and in the end to do you good. Do not say to yourself, “My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth.” But remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you power to get wealth, so that he may confirm his covenant that he swore to your ancestors, as he is doing today. —Deuteronomy 8:7-18, NRSV

The 4-year-old boy was asked to offer grace before the Thanksgiving dinner. The family members bowed their heads in expectation. He began his prayer, thanking God for all his friends—naming them, one by one. Then he thanked God for Mommy, Daddy, brother, sister, Grandma, Grandpa, and all his aunts and uncles—naming them, one by one. Then he began to thank God for the food. He gave thanks for the turkey, the dressing, the mashed and sweet potatoes, the fruit salad, the cranberry sauce, the pies, the cakes, even the Cool Whip.

Then he paused, and everyone waited, and waited—and waited. After a long silence, the young fellow looked up at his mother and asked, “If I thank God for the broccoli, won’t he know that I’m lying?”

When I first visited the Middle East in 1987, our group was blessed to have a presentation in Jerusalem by Dr. James W. Fleming, an internationally esteemed archaeologist. Jim Fleming’s lecture was on “The Geography of the Holy Land,” and I remember it well. He suggested that if you took a map of ancient Israel and drew somewhat diagonal line across the land from approximately the northeast corner to the southwest corner, you would discover an important feature of the geography that had a significant impact on the development of the great monotheistic faiths.

To the East of that line the land would be almost entirely wilderness and desert. To the West of that line lay the lush and fertile portions of land. And, Dr. Fleming asserted, Judaism to a large extent…and Christianity and Islam to some extent…had their beginnings in those wilderness places, where they experienced their closest encounters with God. And all three great monotheistic faiths began to face major challenges in terms of their relationships with God when they crossed over that line…either physically or symbolically…and began to settle in lush and fertile villages and comfortable cities.

In a seminar Dr. Fleming offered this past summer at Ocean Grove, NJ, he once again articulated the contrast between the spirituality of the desert and religious expression in a settled land. He asked us if we had “ever stopped to notice that the world’s great monotheistic religions did not come from the river cultures of the Tigris and Euphrates, the Nile, or the Amazon… This little land, on the edge of the desert, gave us, in chronological order, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.”

One of the very reasons the wilderness experiences produced such strength in the faithful was the very difficulty of existence. Living in the deserts reminds persons of how dependent they are on the sustaining power of God in an unpredictable and often harsh environment. On the other hand, when the desert wanderers crossed over into the fertile, lush lands they quickly assimilated the ways of those who lived there and forgot the God of the desert. Rather, Dr. Fleming stated, they began to assimilate “the gods of the economy and the GNP. They stopped praying and became consumer oriented. If one looks at Israelite history,” Dr. Fleming concludes, “it is more difficult to live an authentic and virtuous life on the easy, predictable side of the [line].” It is a place where prosperity is defined in terms of “stuff”…and not by a quality of life.

The story is told by some that Mohammed (blessed be he) was a young boy living in a small village at the base of Mt. Sinai when he first visited the city of Jerusalem. When he returned, his father asked him, “How did you feel?” And the young prophet allegedly answered, “Things were so fast that my soul couldn’t keep up with my body.

Not too many years ago, when Mother Teresa first came to the United States, after she had been here for three days, a far-too-typical American journalist asked her, “Mother Teresa, what do you think of the most sophisticated democracy in the world?” Coming from Calcutta, India, where the streets are filled with physically starving people, she answered, “I have never seen a more starved people.”

Is it somehow wrong to want to live a comfortable life? No. But sometimes it is more difficult to live authentically in comfort than it is in a time of need. “The human spirit can endure anything except perpetual prosperity.” We seem to do better at living authentic lives of faith when there is some adversity in our lives.

I believe all of this is why God clearly admonishes the Hebrew people as they come to the end of the 40-years-long Exodus journey and stand at the edge of the wilderness…as they are about to cross over the Jordan River…to take care that they do not forget Who has brought them this far: “When you have eaten your fill and have built fine houses and live in them, and when your flocks and herds 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…” (Deuteronomy 8:12–14, NRSV).

The temptation to forget the Source of their bountiful life is not restricted to the nomadic Israelites. It is a drama that has been replayed in many cultures, and continues to play itself out even today. It is a danger to all of us. The principle founder of my own Methodist tradition was an 18^th Century Anglican priest by the name of John Wesley. And one of the greatest dangers he foresaw for us Methodists was the day when we ceased to be a “movement” and established ourselves as a “church.” At that point, he feared, our focus would turn from outreach to inreach…from vibrant faith and vital service to others, to a stale religiosity and concern focused primarily on institutional survival. I know that’s not a problem for any of you and your faith communities, my sisters and brothers…but I fear at times we sons and daughters of Wesley are fulfilling his prophecy.

I’m not entirely certain how we protect ourselves from the temptation to forget the Source of our abundance…how we escape that tendency to define prosperity in terms of “stuff,” and not by a quality of life. I shared with my own congregation on Sunday the witness of Drew Theological School Professor of Evangelism, Leonard Sweet. He recalls that, in the West Virginia hills where he grew up, there was always an empty chair at the Thanksgiving Dinner table in his home that stood ready to be filled or to be gazed upon as a reminder that no matter how many persons were already present at the table, there was always room for one more. Even if there wasn’t physically an “empty chair,” Len Sweet remembers, there was an extra plate and extra portions in case an unexpected visitor showed up.

The tradition of the empty chair is also a fixture at the greatest Jewish thanksgiving feast of the year—the Passover Seder. An empty chair at the Seder table and a front door left slightly ajar, symbolically welcome the Prophet Elijah to join in the great feast of Passover. But some of my Jewish friends tell me that in contemporary times, the empty chair at the Seder feast has also become a symbolic reminder for them of the summons to radical hospitality.

No matter how Thanksgiving is celebrated, no matter how many are hosted at the holiday feast, the tradition of the empty, expectant chair commends itself for our consideration—if not physically, then at least spiritually. And perhaps no more important in any year than this year, as we face such great challenges as a nation and a world. The empty chair can serve as a reminder, lest we forget, of the Source of our bounty and of our call to radical hospitality and the stewardship of those abundant gifts for the well-being of the whole human community.

We are all facing difficult challenges in these days of economic uncertainty. And perhaps none are more vulnerable than the children. I just happened to see some disturbing data from the US Agricultural Department late last week that indicate hunger among children in this country is up 50% in one year…some 691 thousand children experienced hunger in 2007. And those figures, you’ll note, were compiled before the current economic downturn. These are the largest figures for childhood hunger in the US since 1998. And worse yet, 36.2 million adults and children (12% of our US population) struggled with hunger issues in 2007…again, before the current economic collapse. Predictably, the 2008 figures will be significantly worse. And that data doesn’t even begin to address the growing global disaster in many developing and poverty-burdened nations.

Sadly, one of the greatest growth indicators in today’s America seems to be the burgeoning of its underclass. There are still a few folk who continue to grow richer than rich, stockpiling millions the way the rest of us stockpile cans for recycling. The rampant callousness that lies at the heart of our economic collapse was probably best demonstrated just last week when the three CEO’s of America’s bruised and battered automobile industry each flew separately to Washington, DC, on multi-million-dollar private jet planes…to the tune of about $20,000 per CEO…to beg the US Congress for an economic bailout. And when they were confronted about their profligate behavior, they had no answers. In the contemporary vernacular, they simply “didn’t get it.”

There are probably very few of us in this room tonight who are receiving multi-million-dollar compensation packages this year. I suspect far more among us are feeling the pinch of economic uncertainty, the fear of job insecurity, concerns about the days ahead. And then there are those persons who are so desperately poor, so utterly destitute, that even the barest essentials for existence seem beyond their grasp. Yes, among the citizens of America, a small percentage of the population is still amassing fortunes, while an ever-growing number are amassing misery. I just read in this morning’s newspaper that the Elijah’s Promise soup kitchen in New Brunswick is having to reduce the number of meals it can serve each week because, while the numbers of those seeking food are growing, the numbers who can provide donations are dwindling.

Where are our society’s empty chairs? Where are our society’s extra portions?

I am optimistic, however, largely because of your very presence here this evening, and of the gifts that you have brought to reach out and touch the lives of others who are desperate. I see signs that we are not yet in danger of joining those who have shut their hearts and found there is no more love to give, no more bounty to share, no more fellowship to extend. Yet, lest we forget, perhaps it is well to remind ourselves once again in this season of the Source of our plenty.

In the midst of all our feasting and celebrating, let us remember that empty chair, and make room for…one more name on our “need to visit” list…one more personal note jotted on a card…one more hour of volunteer work in or special gift to a charity (like Elijah’s Promise)…one more family or person in our hearts or at our tables…one more prayer of thanks-giving…just like that young and grateful 4-year-old…to an almighty and gracious God for abundant blessings. Lest we forget…

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PRAYER

Blessed God, how easy it is to turn away from portrayals of a world in which so many of your children exist in abject destitution alongside colossal opulence. Break our hearts with that which breaks your own, Compassionate Creator. Till the unplowed ground of our souls with your very hand, that we might become a living sacrifice of first fruits for all those who hunger and thirst. Empower us to be and bring manna amid the deserts of despair. Amen.

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November 25, 2008 Lest We Forget Page  PAGE 4 of  NUMPAGES 5

  Adapted from the Beliefnet Joke of the Day for November 25, 2008. Accessed November 25, 2008, at  HYPERLINK “http://www.beliefnet.com/Entertainment/Joke-of-the-Day/Daily-Joke.aspx?d=20081125&source=NEWSLETTER” http://www.beliefnet.com/Entertainment/Joke-of-the-Day/Daily-Joke.aspx?d=20081125&source=NEWSLETTER. 

  James W. Fleming, Ed.D., “Introduction to Geography of The Bible” in Lessons About God from the Land of the Bible (A Bible Conference Workbook of Selected Readings), published by Biblical Resources, LaGrange, GA, p. 11.

  See Ibid., p. 12.

  A story told by James Fleming during the Seminar in Ocean Grove in August 2008.

  See Fleming, Op. Cit., p. 13.

  See Ibid., p. 15

Leonard Sweet, “Is There Room for One More?” in Homiletics, October-December 1996 (Volume 8, Number 4), p. 33.