"It has seemed to me fit and proper that they [innumerable blessings] should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American people........And I recommend to them [that recognize and take part in this day] that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union."
The Thanksgiving tradition, as we all remember from the first days of school, is a long one, reaching back to the Pilgrims at Plymouth. My favorite float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is the giant turkey that bobs his head and moves alongside the Pilgrims and their feast. It's such a warm, inviting scene; these people who left their homeland for far off shores, who struggled those first years, and then recognized their bounty of harvest and fell to their knees in prayer and thanksgiving to the Provider. What we tend to forget is why they left their homes in the first place, the widespread persecution they lived under as they sought the freedom to organize their lives and faith the way they saw fit and found in Scripture. The shore of Massachusetts was not their initial destination. They attempted to leave England for Holland but under great duress. "They were hunted and persecuted on every side, until their former afflictions were but fleabitings in comparison. Some were clapped into prison; others had their houses watched day and night, and escaped with difficulty; and most were obliged to fly, and leave their homes and means of livelihood," writes William Bradford in Of Plymouth Plantation. He continues, "For these reformers to be thus constrained to leave their native soil, their lands and livings, and all their friends, was a great sacrifice, and was wondered at by many. But to go into a country unknown to them, where they must learn a new language, and get their livings they knew not how, seemed an almost desperate adventure, and a misery worse than death........ But this was not all; for though it was made intolerable for them to stay, they were not allowed to go; the ports were shut against them, so that they had to seek secret means of conveyance, to bribe the captains of ships, and give extraordinary rates for their passages. Often they were betrayed, their goods intercepted, and thereby were put to great trouble and expense." Of Plymouth Plantation is worth the read as a reminder of where the Pilgrims came from and what they suffered in choosing to leave England and then Holland for passage to America.
The United States has a long history of opening and closing its doors. From the beginning its reputation of being a free land, a haven for those who are desperate to leave their lands because of war, famine and freedom has offered hope to millions. I don't have an answer for the current Syrian refugee crisis. I'm not sure if we let them in; I'm not sure if we keep them out. I have seen both sides scream, spewing fear and hate and ignorance. I have not seen the mercy, the willingness to find a common ground. Lest you forget, we are a nation built on refugees, a glorious melting pot. Like any nation, we have expectations and historically have done well with the give and take of ideas and culture. Fear, however, is a funny thing. It keeps us from doing things that could be beneficial and it makes us do things that could be detrimental. No one, however, has ever suffered from too much mercy and grace. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness-- you know those things we are supposed to be known for? We've allowed them to be stomped under the feet of politics. Is Thanksgiving only for those who have known little suffering? Only for those that will stuff themselves into a tryptophanic stupor? Only for those with roofs over their heads and clothing on their backs? Only those who are third, fourth or fifth generation American? Only those that sought our shores from 1621 to 2001? The thought that being American is an exclusive condition is folly, negating our long history of refugees searching for security, basic needs and freedom. Whatever the Left or the Right is preaching right now, rise above it. There is a common ground. It lies neither on the one side nor the other, however they spin it.
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows worldwide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!' cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
~ Emma Lazarus, 1883
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