From deep troubles come deep thanks

JOSEPH N. BELL

We will have -- I am told as I write this -- 25 people, give or take

a few, for Thanksgiving dinner this year, thus paying homage to the

concepts of extended family and traditional Thanksgiving.

Tradition works in two directions. It gives us warmth, strength,

structure, certainty, and a sense of identity that helps us remain

steadfast through difficult times.

The last Thursday in November is always going to be Thanksgiving

Day, whatever else may be happening to us. But it carries a downside,

too. Because of all those virtues, tradition doesn’t welcome any

fresh looks. Whatever worked for Grandma can certainly work for us is

the message, and we tinker with that system at our peril.

I don’t like turkey very well, for example, and I find the

prospect of two weeks of turkey leftovers deeply depressing. Still, I

would never suggest a prime rib as the main fare on Thanksgiving. And

so we will have turkey today as the rules require.

What the rules don’t explain to us is that we can manage quite

nicely on tradition alone at Thanksgiving when things are going well.

But when the world is as troubled as it is today, and God seems to be

off tending to other matters, we look a lot more wistfully for

comfort to the people who grace our table on Thanksgiving Day.

Although they are also very much a part of our tradition, they

can’t be type cast as rigidly as the Thanksgiving turkey or Grandma’s

cranberry sauce. They not only share our human problems, but perhaps

come to our table seeking the same comfort we do and are thankful --

as we are -- that they have a place that isn’t threatening, a place

where they can feel the balm of love applied to their concerns.

So maybe a special measure of sensitivity and energy is called for

this year to bridge the distance between the traditional way we

define the friends and family around our table and the people they

have become since that defining was done. We will still reminisce and

tell family jokes and describe adventures at work and sneak a look at

the football games on TV and perhaps throw a football around

ourselves.

But while we’re doing the dishes or walking off the pumpkin pie or

taking down tables or idling with a glass of wine, we might be moved

to open new conversational doors that help us reach beyond the

platitudes to get better acquainted with our family and friends. We

may find that the old baggage by which we defined these people was

never accurate or is long gone, and such fresh insights could send us

all home with a special feeling of thanksgiving.

This year reminds me of other times when we were collectively in

deep trouble, and Thanksgiving seemed a kind of irony. That was

especially true during the Great Depression when drought and disease

and poverty and hunger were the order of the day. Thanksgiving

dinners for those who could afford them were spare, but families

still collected to share resources and brace spirits. We helped one

another during those years, often giving of what little we had to

strangers whose needs were greater than ours. So in an odd sort of

way, the spirit of thanksgiving grew along with the trouble we were

all sharing.

I don’t have a great sense of that taking place today. Perhaps the

wealth of a few is obscuring the poverty of many. Perhaps the

relentless good news being fed to us is obscuring the realities of

war. Perhaps we have to reach a greater sense of urgency before the

thanksgiving spirit of the Great Depression kicks in. Meanwhile, we

have the people around our festive table today offering a bridge to

that spirit. A bridge, by the way, that we don’t have to wait for

Thanksgiving to cross.

Both the Pilgrims, who celebrated the first Thanksgiving, and

President Abraham Lincoln, who made it a national holiday, were

looking at pretty bleak pictures at the time. Lincoln was trying to

bring a fratricidal war to an end amid growing daily casualty lists

when he set a day of national thanksgiving after two pivotal Union

military victories. The Pilgrims, two years after they shared a

famous autumn harvest feast with the Wampanoag Indians, celebrated

the first formal Day of Thanksgiving when -- in answer to their

fervent prayers -- a supply ship they thought was sunk arrived on the

same day as a rainfall that broke a drought and saved their crops.

We pray today for our hypothetical ship to come in bearing peace

and prosperity for our children and grandchildren. We will have four

generations eating turkey together, and if the big view before us

inspires something less than gratitude, that is all the more reason

to look around our dining table and give thanks that we have a family

and good friends to fill that void, the resources to put this

sumptuous feast on the table, and the health and strength to enjoy

it.

* JOSEPH N. BELL is a resident of Santa Ana Heights. His column

appears Thursdays.