A Thanksgiving Reflection

For Americans, the term “Thanksgiving” conjures up images of turkey and cranberry sauce, parades and bowl games.  These “traditions” have come to mark an event made a perpetual institution of American life by President Abraham Lincoln.

But why did Lincoln proclaim the last Thursday in November as a national holiday?  Because it was clear to him that the blessings of food, land, family, and freedom enjoyed by Americans are all gifts from the Creator.  But Americans, he realized, had forgotten this.  A special day was needed for us to forget our differences and remember our blessings. And remembering naturally leads to giving thanks to the Source of those blessings.

The Israelites had an annual Thanksgiving Feast, as well.  It was actually a combination of two feasts, Passover and Unleavened bread, and occurred in early spring.  This is when the first grain began to be harvested and when the ewes gave birth to their lambs.  The pagan Canaanites had already celebrated the feast of unleavened bread at this time to thank the gods for the harvest and offer them the first fruits as a sacrifice of gratitude.  The pagan Bedouins, wandering from place to place with their flocks, celebrated the spring gift of lambs by sacrificing some of them to the gods in gratitude for the gift of fertility.

The ancients did not need divine revelation to know that divine forces brought about the world and all its creatures.  That’s just plain common sense.  That we owe these divinities a debt of gratitude is justice, pure and simple.

But for the Jews, Passover was not just giving thanks for the blessings of creation.  For them, God was not just the author of nature with it seasons and life-cycles.  No, God was also the master of history.  Among all ancient peoples, only the Jews believed that God entered into human history, manifested his love and power, and acted decisively to save his chosen people.  So while the pagans thanked their gods each spring for the blessings of food and fertility, the Israelites thanked the Lord for food, but even more, for freedom.  They remembered not only that creation comes from Him, but that salvation from slavery as well.  This remembering happens each year in a solemn way in the Passover Meal that is the climax of the Jewish year.

On the night before he died, Jesus celebrated this solemn memorial by deepening its meaning yet further.  Liberation from Pharaoh’s oppression was certainly something to sing about.  But there was a crueler slavery that a change of geography and regime could not alter.  This slavery to Satan was kept in force through the shackles of sin.  Just as he acted through Moses to free his people from Pharaoh, God was now about to act decisively to liberate his people from the ancient curse.  But this time, he would act personally, not through proxies.

And this liberation would be more costly.  The only way that it could be won would be if God were to give not only his blessings, but His very self.  To do this, God had become man, capable of offering the supreme sacrifice.  And before he did it in actual fact, he did it in sacrament by offering himself under the unassuming forms of bread and wine.  Before delivering himself into the hands of the Romans to be their victim, he delivered himself into our hands to be our nourishment.

For his aim was not just to open the way to future bliss in heaven.  His plan was to pour into our wounds the balm of Gilead that would begin the healing process here and now.  The bite of the serpent had injected venom.  His body and blood would be the antidote, the “medicine of immorality” in the words of St. Ignatius of Antioch.

Blood brings nourishment and life to every cell of our bodies.  It also carries away impurities that poison our system.  The Eucharist offers us a transfusion–we put aside our old life and receive his ever-new life.  We exchange his divine vitality for our tired, toxic blood.  The life of a thing is in its blood.  Blood was poured out at the foot of the altar and could never be consumed by a Jew, for it belonged to God alone.  But here God pours out his own blood at the altar of the cross gives it to us as our drink, for the transformation of our lives.

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Marcellino D'Ambrosio, Ph.D.

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Dr. Marcellino D’Ambrosio writes from Texas. For info on his resources and pilgrimages to Rome and the Holy Land, visit www.crossroadsinitiative.com or call 800.803.0118.

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  • http://www.facebook.com/jake.duncan.144 Jake Duncan

    What a deeply moving article. I will definitely have to try that next time I go to Mass. Thanks!

  • Nick

    “it is right and just”
    I still get that one wrong sometimes

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