Marching Farmers, Homeless Slaves
How Christianity's Jewish roots point us to a different kind of Thanksgiving.
L.L. Barkat | posted 11/25/2008 04:02PM

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Finally, this trilogy of living Psalms ended with Sukkot, the Festival of Booths, which coincided with the fruit harvest. People built booths or sukkot, which means "coverings, shelters," and they slept and ate in them. These temporary structures called to mind the wandering of homeless, escaped Israelite slaves in the desert, where they depended fully on God for their sustenance in an unstable life of struggle and impermanence. Although Sukkot commemorated a fragile time, its emphasis was on rejoicing.
In modern versions of Sukkot, celebrants bind together three special items: palm branches, myrtle, and willow. They wave these in all directions to show that God's goodness exists everywhere and recite a blessing. At the same time, they hold what looks like a lemon in their left hand. The elements are fresh, aromatic reminders of life. The deliverance that began with Passover blooms in Sukkot. Beauty and abundance attend the command to "rejoice." Booths are decorated festively. People, separated from an oppressive past, extend hospitality. Joy is full (yes, even without commercials and football).
Though each member of this trilogy of harvest festivals has its distinctions and emphases, they all share acts of pilgrimage and sacrifice. Additionally, people recite the Hallel (Psalms 113-118), which focuses on God's power, mercy, and deliverance. Psalm 116 is especially evocative for Christians: "The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone."
As we approach Thanksgiving, an American harvest festival, what can we learn from joyful marching farmers, homeless slaves, and people spared in the passing-over? To begin, we might remember that all aspects of life — suffering and joy, struggle and comfort, ugliness and beauty, and so on — are welcome and dealt with at the table. Considering this might give us more grace for our families and ourselves.
We might also remember that God is neither ascetic nor Bacchanal, which means that we, like the farmers and the booth dwellers, can freely receive beauty and abundance in one hand while we sacrificially release gifts with the other; then we might choose ways to concretely manifest such acceptance and generosity.
Thanksgiving celebrations will soon be upon us. What will yours look like this year? I'm going to remember that black hats are optional. Thanks are not. And ritual is recommended.
L. L. Barkat is the author of
Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places (InterVarsity Press, 2008). She blogs at Seedlings in Stone, where you are invited to join a Thanksgiving celebration with a post of your own.
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