Thanksgiving is this week.  I wonder if you are feeling thankful; I wonder if some of you are feeling a bit stressed.  Perhaps you’re hosting a family gathering, anxious about someone you’re going to see, or not see, or worried about getting everything done in time.  Even the little things can be stressful.  I’m in charge of the turkey this year.  I’m not too worked up about it, but there’s a reason they have hotlines for this.  All of these little holiday stresses are reminders that this season can be difficult; and this is a season we should enter into seeking to be compassionate toward others and toward ourselves.
So this morning we’re going to remember the point of Thanksgiving; we’re going to talk about gratitude.  This is a week when we count our blessings, naming things for which we are thankful.  As we gather together with family and friends in doing this, we are teaching our children the importance of gratitude.  We are also reminding ourselves, for its easy for adults to forget to be grateful.  And it can also be hard to be grateful, especially when we’re stressed or worried or struggling, or when the world seems full of trouble.  But it is also true that in difficult times, it is as important as ever to practice gratitude.  So I thought I’d tell you a remarkable story about gratitude even in the midst of real tragedy.
The story comes from Simran Jeet Singh, our guest preacher earlier this fall.  He remembers clearly, as you might, that in 2012, a mass shooting took place at the Sikh temple in Oak Creek, Wisconsin, killing seven, including the gunman.  The massacre was a central experience in Simran’s life; he had experienced racism on an individual level throughout his life, but for him and for all American Sikh’s this public act of violence was new; it caused him to walk through his days with a renewed sense of vulnerability and fear for himself and for his loved ones.
The shooting was the start of an important journey for Simran.  He struggled to understand his anger and grief; he struggled with the enduring reality of evil in the world, and with his need to heal.  As a part of that journey, Simran got to know some of the members of that Sikh community in Oak Creek, listening to their own, more immediate stories of the experience.  What amazed Simran the most were the expressions of gratitude.  One young woman he quotes in his book said, “We have so much to be thankful for.  I have my life.  So many people I love are safe.  It could have been so much worse.  Someone was looking out for us that day.”  Another profoundly grateful survivor was the police officer who had arrived first on the scene.  He had kept the shooter at bay while being struck by 15 rounds of ammunition; several bullets were still lodged in his head, back and shoulder, a source of ongoing pain.  “Despite this,” writes Simran, “Officer Murphy felt grateful to be alive and attributed his positive attitude to the [religious teachings] he learned from the Oak Creek Sikh community; he came to know them well in the aftermath of the shooting.  If these people, Simran thought, whose lives had been so dramatically altered, could experience gratitude, so, he thought, can I.  And those conversations led him on a journey of practicing daily gratitude.
Gratitude is an extraordinarily powerful spiritual resource, which is why it is not only foundational to Sikhism, but part of so many religious traditions, including our own.  Being grateful is a means to profound and positive change in our lives.  Gratitude has been proven to build resilience, helping us manage stress; it strengthens relationships when we share gratitude with others; it helps us keep the negativity in our lives at bay; gratitude can even make us gentler and more gracious toward ourselves.
The experience of gratitude, and its force for good is deeply grounded in Scripture and in memory. Our Psalm for today is about remembering gratitude in hard times.  In verse 4, the Psalm reads: “Restore our fortunes, O Lord…,” and we know by that, that this is a plea from someone who is suffering and needs to be healed.  The historical origins of the Psalm are not clear, so we have to guess at the situation.  It could be many things.  As is often the case in the Old Testament, the author might be concerned by the unfaithfulness or immorality of his neighbors or of an evil king on the throne.  But it is equally possible that he is struggling with something more personal; the loss of a loved one, or a wayward son or daughter, the bad luck of a poor harvest, or a business decision that is threatening his family with ruin.  So he begs of God, “restore our fortunes, O Lord”; return my life to the good and hopeful thing it once was.
Somehow, this struggling person has found his way to hope; we know that because he continues:  “May those who sow in tears, reap with shouts of joy.”  Whatever is going on for this person, she is not yet out of the woods, the suffering is still great—but she can see a way out.  How?  How can she see it?  The answer is gratitude.  Look at the beginning of the Psalm now.  The first three verses are not a prayer, and not a plea, they are a memory:  “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.  Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy…’  The hope this person needs in the midst of trouble comes from remembering with gratitude that God has helped before.  That’s how they know that God will show up again!
Gratitude does not pretend that suffering doesn’t exist, but rather gratitude is what strengthens our hearts when hard times come, so that we have the strength to endure it.  Rather than being overwhelmed by grief or sadness or hatred, we can feel those difficult things, yes, but then be moved to offer something good in response to the suffering.
Gratitude recognizes that sometimes things don’t turn out ok.  And yet gratitude, sometimes quite miraculously, still finds its way to hope.  Not long ago, I received an email from one of the professors at Princeton Seminary, when he was working his way through a struggle.  Like the Psalm, his story was about a memory that was leading him toward hope.  In it he said this:  I woke up this morning with the words of our colleague Sonia Waters ringing in my head. [Dr. Waters, who also taught at Princeton, died last year at age 51, leaving behind her spouse and three stepchildren.] As she faced death with deep faithfulness, she sent [her colleagues] one last email that he remembered so clearly.  As she faced her own untimely death, Sonia Waters left her friends with a message; it concluded with these simple and powerful words.  “I pray you choose joy. Everything else is a waste of time.”  What a statement of gratitude.
The professor who wrote the email went on to comment on that.  He went on to say that To choose joy is not to [be naïve] or to deny the realities of our moment. To choose joy is to opt for the love of our neighbors, the certainty of God’s surprising grace among us, the promise of life amid the forces of death and despair that surround us.  Joy, and gratitude, which is like it, are much deeper than simple happiness.  Gratitude is a whole way of being; it requires some effort and discipline if you want it to change your life for the better.  Gratitude is perhaps the first and most important step on any spiritual journey.  And thankfully, there are such easy ways to get started.
One way to experience gratitude in your life is to pray about it, daily.  Find a way, a time, to say prayers of thanks.  This doesn’t have to be complicated or poetic.  It can be a few quiet moments at the start or the end of the day, or some other time, when you remember the blessings in your life and name them before God.  You might choose to jot them down in a journal so you can look back at them as the time passes.  Give yourself some grace if you miss a day here and there—that doesn’t matter.  But when you do give thanks, try not to be in a hurry.  Take your time as you consider your blessings.  Breathe deeply to slow yourself down; don’t just rush through them like a to-do list, but allow the good news of those blessings to wash over you, fill your heart and bring you joy.  Another wonderful way to experience gratitude is to share it with someone else; you might be inspired to write a letter or send an email to let someone else know that why you are grateful for them.  Expressing gratitude to others is one of the best ways to do something meaningful for someone else, while also giving a gift to yourself.
When Simran Jeet Singh met the victims of the Oak Creek massacre and witnessed their gratitude, he knew that adopting their way of being would not happen overnight and would involve some time and commitment.  But he wanted what they had, so he tried it.  He took time each evening, just a few minutes, to count his blessings and be thankful.  Over time, gratitude became a part of him too.  When he writes about it, he says, “My life hadn’t suddenly changed, nor did I have more to be thankful about.  The change happened inside me…”  And noting that it took practice, he adds that it took some time and that he did not stumble upon it by instinct.  “[Gratitude] is not intuitive—” he says.  “I had to [practice and] learn it.”
Holidays, on the surface, are occasions for joy; but beyond whether you clean the house or cook the turkey just right, these days and weeks ahead can be a source of stress and grief and anxiety.  We think about who we will see and who we will not see; how it will go and how it will feel, and how we will respond.  We often carry around fears and resentments and grievances that can have a corrosive effect on our lives and on the lives of others; they can threaten our own well-being and the moral compass we bring to encounters with neighbors and loved ones.  Gratitude can change all of that, opening our hearts so that we remember and see others and ourselves as children of God.  As the author of that email I told you about concluded:  “My friends, let’s choose the kind of joy that runs through grief and sorrow and rests on God’s immense grace.”  Choose gratitude.  Everything else is a waste of time.”  Amen.