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| Bless the Lord all that grows in the ground |
First there was the question, then there was the litany and finally came the benedicite.
The question was simple and always the same: I would ask, "How are you this morning?"
The litany varied, but could be something along the lines of, "My husband's been rushed back into hospital. The doctors just don't know what's wrong with him, but he's in a lot of pain and he's just not eating. My daughter's finally left her partner, you know the one I told you about; she's with us just now but she needs to find somewhere, and it looks like she might lose her job; they say they're 'downsizing'. And my eldest grandson, he helped at the last Quiz Night, remember? He's a good boy you know, but he's in with the wrong crowd, bad boys, and it looks like he might get suspended from school. Maybe next week we'll find out, I don't know, he doesn't say much."
Then came the benedicite: "But it's Sunday morning and I'm in my church, so thank God."
For sixteen years I was privileged to serve churches in Edmonton, North London. It was a world away from the world I'd grown up in or am serving in now. The Church Urban Fund provides a great tool for looking up demographic information on parishes (https://cuf.org.uk/shinealight). In Edmonton, working age poverty is 22%, child poverty 26% and pensioner poverty 31%. In my current parish those figures are 4%, 5% and 6% respectively.
For sixteen years I had a lot of learning to do, and I had some of the kindest, hardest-working, most generous teachers I could ever wish for. One of the most important lessons they taught me was about thankfulness. Those who know me well might observe that, perhaps from time to time, I can be a little bit 'glass half-empty'. To find myself serving a community where people daily faced struggles the likes of which I'd never known, and yet never lost sight of all that they had to give thanks for, was something that always inspired me. This wasn't a shallow, 'Don't worry, be happy' view of life. My friends there knew very well the reality of how tough life could be. What I was being taught (and I was a terrible learner!), was that the night never got so dark that some light could not be seen; and if some light could be seen, then give thanks to God for the light.
Living thankfully is not an easy thing to do, because in large part our culture is devoted to fostering dissatisfaction. How many times a day do we see/hear/watch an advert telling us how much better our lives could be if only we had a more nutritious breakfast cereal, clearer skin, a more exotic holiday, a better car, or phone, or anything, or everything. It's hard to be thankful for what you have in life if you're being bombarded with the not so subtle message that life could be that much better if you would only get out your credit card.
One of the great hymns of the Church which was much treasured and celebrated by Celtic Christians was the Benedicite; it's a great outpouring of praise to God and I pray it every morning:
Bless the Lord all you works of the Lord: sing his praise and exalt him for ever... Bless the Lord sun and moon: bless the Lord you stars of heaven; bless the Lord all rain and dew: sing his praise and exalt him for ever... Bless the Lord all birds of the air: bless the Lord you beasts and cattle; bless the Lord all people on earth: sing his praise and exalt him for ever.
It's almost breathless in its exuberance and its celebration of life and its gifts. Tellingly, this great hymn of thanksgiving is taken from a story of persecution and suffering, the story of the faithful Jews, Shadrach, Mesach and Abednego being thrown into the fiery furnace by the tyrannical King Nebuchadnezzar.
Perhaps it's when we have little or nothing, in times of hardship or struggle, that we are most acutely aware of what we do have and can give thanks.
I am so sorry that I was not a lot more thankful for all that I had.
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