Two
Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday October 13, 2024 (Thanksgiving Weekend)
Scripture: Joel 2:21-27
This is Thanksgiving weekend – a time when we gather with friends and family, a
time when we enjoy a feast that celebrates this year’s harvest, a time when we
have an opportunity to appreciate the spectacular fall colours everywhere we
turn. This is a weekend when most of us
make time to pause and to say “thank you” – a weekend when we give thanks to
the people in our lives, a weekend when we give thanks to the land and to the
farmers for feeding the world, a weekend when we give thanks to God, the
Creator of all that we can see and of all that we cannot see.
In times of abundance, it is easy for us to remember to say thank you for all that we have. When we are surrounded by our loved ones, when we have plates overflowing with delicious food, when the rest of creation is being kind to us and allowing us to appreciate the beauty of the natural world – in these times, gratitude comes easily.
But you all know me well enough at this point to know that I have to ask the question – what about the other times? What about the times when we’re experiencing the loss of a loved one, whether through death or estrangement? What about the times when it is a challenge to put any food on your plate, let alone a feast? What about the times when it seems as though creation is out to get us – I’m thinking this week especially about the people of Florida who have been hit by not one but two major hurricanes in the space of just a couple of weeks. Should we be expected to give thanks in those times too?
I think that the Ancient Israelite people in the time of the prophet Joel must have had similar questions. Joel is an interesting little book. It’s short – just 3 chapters long, and I confess that it’s one of those books that I need to use the table of contents to find in the bible. We don’t know anything about Joel himself, other than his father’s name was Pethuel. There is nothing in the book that ties the events he is writing about to historical events written about elsewhere; and I’m not a Hebrew scholar, so I trust the experts who date this book using language to relatively late in the Old Testament timeline, just a couple hundred years before the birth of Jesus and long after the major events of the Old Testament like the Exodus with Moses, the Kings of Ancient Israel, and the exile in Babylon.
And yet despite its shortness and its situation outside of the major story arc of the Old Testament, this book has a seemingly disproportionate significance in the cycle of the church year. We hear bits of Joel read on Ash Wednesday at the beginning of the season of Lent; we hear other bits of Joel read on Pentecost, either on its own or as quoted in the second chapter of the Book of Acts, about the Spirit being poured out on all flesh. And then we hear Joel again on Thanksgiving weekend. It is a book that really does punch above its weight!
What we can dig out from the book of Joel, is that the people in his time and place (whenever and wherever that was) had faced or were facing some sort of environmental disaster. The opening chapters of the book make reference to locusts devouring everything in the field, it compares the locusts to an invading army laying waste to orchards and fields so that the ground is mourning, the wine dries up, and the olive oil harvest fails. Joel also writes of droughts that have dried up the waterways, and wildfires that devour the fields and forests. The language then becomes apocalyptic, describing a day of darkness and gloom, of fires in front of and behind you charging at you like war horses, of earthquakes, and a dimming of the sun, moon and stars. Joel says, way back in chapter 1, “Surely joy withers away among the people.”
Yet, after all of these horrific images have been described in great detail, there is a promise of restoration, and that is the part of Joel we heard today. Joel talks about a reversal of all of the horrors of the first part of the book, with drought replaced by abundant rain, threshing floors full of grain and vats overflowing with olive oil and wine. The people will eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of God.
Reading through the whole book of Joel this week, I don’t think that I was able to come to a satisfactory answer to my questions about whether we should give thanks in the hard times of life too. Should the people of Florida give thanks, even as they are trapped by fallen trees and houses have been swept away by wind and by water? Should the people of Gaza give thanks as their homes and hospitals crumble around them?
But what I do see in Joel is a message of hope – a message that the bad times won’t last forever. Hope is always looking to the future. Hope looks at the world as it is, says, “well, this sucks” and then hope reminds us that the bad times won’t last forever. The drought will end and rain will fall. The famine will be over and there will be plenty to eat. The war will be over, and rebuilding will happen. Hope gives us confidence, to borrow a phrase from author Frederick Buechner, that the worst thing is NEVER the last thing.
I don’t know where each of you is in your life this Thanksgiving weekend, but if you are hearing these words from Joel from a place that feels more like the locusts and drought and wildfires from the first part of Joel, the message for you is that these too will end. Trust that God is with you through whatever it is that you are going through, and a time for feasting and rejoicing is coming.
And if you are hearing these words from Joel from a place of abundance and peace, then the message to you is also clear. Like the soil and the animals of the field, be glad and rejoice! Like the people resorted, be glad and rejoice in your God! Feast and be satisfied and praise the name of your God!
But maybe in the midst of your feasting and praising and rejoicing, I might add another little nudge; and that is to remember that not everyone is there yet. There are still people living through the locusts and droughts and wildfires of the beginning of Joel. And the challenge that this carries to the rest of us is – is there some way that our rejoicing and thanksgiving can flow into generosity? Can part of our gratitude be giving support to people who are still in the literal or metaphorical locusts, droughts, and wildfires? For in doing so, we can not only offer material support, but we can also help strengthen their hope until they too can reach a place of rejoicing.
Maybe this weekend, as you gather with your loved ones to give thanks and share a feast, you might also want to talk about how your gratitude can be expressed through generosity. Maybe you want to make a donation to the Food Bank or Hestia House or Romero house. Maybe you want to make an extra donation to Mission & Service so that God’s love can reach people who need to know that love across Canada and around the world. Or maybe you want to bring good news and hope to non-human parts of creation by investing in a way to live that leaves a smaller environmental footprint.
This weekend, let us all live at the intersection between hope and thanksgiving, with hope that the worst thing is never the last thing, trusting that a time of rejoicing is coming; and with Thanksgiving flowing into generosity that strengthens the hope of those who are still waiting.
And may it be so, not just this weekend, but always. Amen.
What are you grateful for today?
How is your gratitude going to become generosity?
Image Credit: K. Jones
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