Thanksgiving

 

Thanking God

Is that good religious manners?

We Catholics are a grateful lot. We are visible in demonstrating our gratitude to all of Heaven: to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; to Mother of Perpetual Succour and Mary Help of Christians; to the Infant Jesus of Prague; to St. Anthony, St. Jude, St. Rita and the Communion of Saints. We are grateful for favours received: for safe deliveries, safe journeys, the gift of a son, a cure without surgery, a good job, a fine house, a “good catch” bridegroom, a successful court case or the reformation of an alcoholic spouse. Every day, Thanksgiving Masses waft heavenward. Envelopes stuffed with grateful currency are dropped into those sanctified post boxes in church. Candles can be seen burning on side-altars, shedding wax tears of blessed gratitude for mercies from above.

            I look at all this and say, “How beautiful!” We go down on our knees and ask for favours. We storm heaven for them. And when finally we receive them, we do not forget to say “Thank you.” The Church has taught us good manners.           

            And then, I remember something….

            “Ingrid” I call out to my wife. “Shouldn’t we offer a Mass in thanksgiving for … ”

            “Yes,” she says, in that same tone of quiet piety with which she leads the night prayers. “Yes, we will do that, but not before we have said a meaningful Thank You to Guru and Usha (our house help) and to Lorna and Tony… “

            “Oh yes,” I say, feeling sheepish about my own thoughtlessness.

            “And Dr. Jawaharlal,” she reminds me. “He showed a lot of concern during your idiotic viral fever. And Liz and Peter and Avi and Nirmal. A whole lot of people prayed for us, I know. You must design Thank You cards that you can send by e-mail…”

            “Yes,” I say, trying to redeem myself. “Let’s make a list.”

             “Yes, do that. God would want you to thank these people first, don’t you think?”

            Unknown to us, Lorna is at the window, listening.

            “What about thanking God for favours not received?” she pipes in.

            “What do you mean?” I am confused.

            “What about thanking God for bad times, when he didn’t give us what we prayed for”

            “I don’t think I understand.” I’m more than a little dumb.

            “Remember when you failed that test for a clerk’s job? This was soon after your graduation.”

            I think it is rather unkind of her to bring this up after so many years. A jab to my ego. But never mind. I say nothing.

            “Mummy prayed hard that you might pass the test and land the job. But you didn’t. You failed. Don’t you think we should offer a Thanksgiving Mass for your failure?”

            “You’re mad.”

            “Just think, Ivan. If you had passed that test, you might have been head clerk today. Not bad. But you would have gone down a totally different path. And that would be a tragedy, I think.” Lorna can be embarrassing sometimes.

            She continues in the same vein, enjoying my discomfort. “Not just you. Tony and I have to offer Thanksgiving for that gruelling time we went through during the Lever lock-out. If not for that, we would not have gone abroad, we would not have been able to send our daughter to Switzerland; she would not have met her husband and we wouldn’t be where we are today.”

            Suddenly we find ourselves nodding and coming up with memories of the many other times when the apparently bad turned out in hindsight to be not just good, but the best thing that could have happened to us. Prompting in us a paradoxical thanksgiving for favours not received. Lorna, as usual is right.

            A long ensuing silence crowds over with thoughts, like sheets of blank paper written over with invisible ink. Thoughts swirl around Gratitude and Thanksgiving to God.

            Lorna cannot bear a break in the conversation. “So you see? We ought to thank God at all times,” she says.

            “I’m not quite sure of that.” Ingrid makes an uncharacteristic refutation.

            “What do you mean?” Lorna is surprised at her sister-in-law’s irreverence.

            “I’m tired of hearing “Thank God” for every silly thing: thank God my exam is over, thank God the movie was at 5.30 and not 5.00; thank God we won the match, thank God it’s friday … I’m sure God does not want credit for things he has given you the free will to do yourself.”

            “Yes,” Lorna agrees. “We’re trivialising Thanksgiving.”

            “We are willing to give Him credit for these silly little things,” Ingrid continues. “But when it comes to bigger favours, those that shape our entire lives, such as our personal gifts of mind, body and heart: a rare intellect, a talent for art, music, sports, leadership; our health and well-being and our good nature, we would like to hog the credit for ourselves. Success is our personal possession.” Ingrid is breathless. This is the lengthiest speech she has given in a long time.

            I can’t remember which of us gave the last mini-sermon, but I put it down for what it is worth:

             “True Thanksgiving can only come from faith and humility. The realization that our own efforts, however good are not enough; that we need at most times that divine contribution in our lives. To be truly grateful, we must be humble, so help us God.”

Published in the November issue of the Agnel Ashram magazine