Thanksgiving Blessings Multiplied

 

There is a program begun by the Episcopal Church Women (ECW) of the United States that dates back to the 1800s—the United Thank Offering. Members of the congregation are provided with a “little blue box,” a cardboard piggy bank with a slot in the top of it. As church members go about their day they drop a coin in the slot with a little prayer of thanksgiving for the common and uncommon blessings of daily life: a baby’s smile, rain after a period of drought, a raise or promotion, a healing conversation, etc. The monies are collected biannually and sent in to the United Thank Offering fund which supplies grants for ministries and programs throughout the Anglican Communion in the states and world wide. Examples of projects that have received funding are a program to create a video and facilitators’ guide to address bullying in the schools, renovation of an unused parish refectory into apartments for the homeless, purchase of a van that will be used to deliver food, medical care and other services to those too far from the city center to receive help any other way.

I love the elegant simplicity of this idea. It’s better than the gratitude journals that became popular a few years ago, because our gratitude is converted into action; it has a ripple effect that makes the whole world a better place. To acknowledge the gifts we receive from each other and from life daily is psychologically beneficial. It makes us happier, reduces our stress, makes us see all of life in a new, more positive light. But to stop there is a bit self-serving. The “little blue box” ensures that I not only feel good but that the joy ripples outward. I am no longer a passive receiver but an agent of good and a catalyst for happiness in other lives.

In my family we began a practice of setting the “little blue box” in the middle of the dinner table and a few coins beside each of our plates. In lieu of a prayer, we each announce the blessings we are aware of that day and drop our coins into the box. Listening to each other, we become aware of blessings we hadn’t thought of, and our gratitude increases yet again.

Whatever your religion, creed or beliefs, I invite you to establish a thanksgiving piggy bank of your own. When your box is full, convert the money into a check and send it to the charity of your choice. We who have so much can do so much more in this simple and lovely way.

To find out more about the United Thank Offering visit: http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/united-thank-offering

 

 

 

Wanting What I Already Have

Recently I have made a commitment to begin my days reading something spiritual. My first selection is by Joan Chittister, OSB, a profoundly wise little book, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today. It amazes me how this book, published in 1991, before the world wide web, still speaks of the same challenges we now face: how to live a holy life in a world that is ever closer and more connected, with technology that dominates our time and consumerism that invades our consciousness. "In a world in which the planet has become the neighborhood and our personal lives are made up of unending streams of people," she writes, "the Rule of Benedict with its accent on the spiritual qualities of life lived in common may never have been more relevant. I have begun to see under the covers of this age-old monastic rule a semblance of sanity to the insanity of   the world around me." (p. 11-12) What would she have made of the "unending streams of people" I can speak to  and they to me via the timeline of my Facebook page? Or a world in which I can download an entire library to my Kindle in less than an hour? Or a BOGO culture in which I get two blouses when I only really needed one, just because the second one was free?

 

The craziness of this massively inter-connected world is that amidst this plenty we can find ourselves very empty indeed. The shallowness of constant conversation via email and social media does not make up for the lost intimacy of a real, deep, nourishing conversation with a true friend. A closet full of clothes can hide the few, precious, beloved garments that bring back the best and brightest memories. A shelf full of books can camouflage the wisest and most life-changing favorites (like this one) amidst all the others I've "been meaning to read." Wisdom Distilled from the Daily gives us one approach through the ancient Rule of Saint Benedict as interpreted by this wise woman. "We have to come to understand that we have been allotted our portion of the goods of the earth; we have not been given the goods of the universe for our own personal consumption. We own this earth in common with the poor. We have to learn the difference between needs and wants so that the needs of all can be supplied, which doesn't mean that my own life must be narrow or restricted. It simply means I must come to understand the difference between having it all and having everything." (p. 72.)

Having it all vs. having everything. Having it all doesn't make me happier, it just creates more work, more things to dust, more things to wade through. And it leads to a world where a few have too much and too many have too little. Having everything is simply having that--and only that--which is necessary to live a life in balance, where work and leisure, solitude and companionship, the mundane and the sacred exist in equal measure. That kind of monasticism does not require I renounce my family or give away all my possessions or move into a convent. It simply means that I must focus on wanting what I have rather than trying to have whatever I want.

A Lesson in Being Human

Recently I have recognized a tendency I have to cover embarrassment or being at a loss for words with humor. The trouble is, in such situations, there isn't enough time to reflect on the impact of what I'm saying, and what I think is funny might truly be insensitive or even cruel. One of the harder lessons of life is how easy it is to hurt people even when your intentions are good. Humor can be a way to turn an awkward moment, to bond people together, to lighten the mood. But it is tricky and fraught with the capacity to harm. My fat mouth gets me into trouble. And once words fly out of your mouth, you can't take them back.

I'm not always sure how to make amends. Often, too much time has passed, or the conversation has moved on. Sometimes explaining what made me uncomfortable--what led me to try to fill the awkwardness with humor--only makes the situation more awkward. How hard it is to redeem myself in my own eyes! I know I'm only human, but I want so hard to be a good person, to be a kind person. I want to make peoples' lives easier, not harder and more painful.

Sometimes I find, the only answer is prayer. Meditation on my faults--if I am not afraid to admit them--is an important exercise in humility. And by humility I don't mean groveling on the ground and bemoaning my wickedness. Humility is not humiliation. "Humility" derives from the Latin word, "humus" or ground, earth as in dirt. So to be humble is to be grounded. It is to have a right mind about your place in the grand scheme of things, to not take yourself so seriously. Humility can actually be very freeing because it allows us to be human.

 "Humiliation may teach us a lot about oppression, or a lot about underdevelopment or a great deal about anger, but it will not necessarily prove that we have learned anything about humility. Benedictine humility frees the spirit; it does not batter it." 
from Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of Benedict Today by Joan Chittister, OSB.