Finding Gratitude in Hard Times -The Rev. Gigi Miller
Have you ever felt like a stranger in a strange land? When I arrived at UCLA as a transfer student from my hometown, Washington, DC, I was bewildered by… everything really. The only tacos I’d ever tasted were from Jack in the Box - stale, hard shell tortilla, ground beef, tomato, lettuce. I didn’t know anyone, and a teaching assistant asked if I was part of the “Eastern establishment” – whatever that meant. The books fell off the single shelf in my room during an earthquake. I missed the church I grew up in.
December finals week brought a dry, hot wind that was like opening an oven door; it made me itchy and cranky. I couldn’t wait to get home to sweater weather and the first snow. When I came back to school in January, it started raining and raining… UCLA flooded, and we sloshed around campus on boards to avoid the rivers of mud. Where was I? Why had I ended up in this weird place? And why were the palm trees still green?
The Judeans to whom the prophet Jeremiah was writing must have felt similar emotions of disorientation and confusion… minus the tacos. The Babylonian army had conquered their homeland and taken their king, queen, and court captive. Subsequently, their Babylonian oppressors destroyed Jerusalem and its most sacred place, Solomon’s temple. How could they go on? And where was God in all this?
Now that the people of Judah were scattered to the four winds, a few other prophets spread their optimistic news that the exile would be short-lived: they’d be back in Jerusalem in a year, two at the most. But Jeremiah, walking closely, if reluctantly with God, had another message – “We’re in it for the long haul. Better get used to your new home.” And in a bit of foreshadowing of Jesus’ teaching about loving our enemies, Jeremiah told the exiles that they should pray for their captors and the good of their society. True prophets tell their public what they need to know, not necessarily what they want to hear.
People have been similarly displaced and disowned throughout the ages. In our country’s history, Africans were captured, sent in perilous voyages to the Americas, and bound into generations of chattel slavery. Immigrants, escaping persecution and famine in their home countries, were met with exploitation and suspicion. Tomorrow, we recognize Indigenous Peoples Day and note how whole groups were stripped of their homes and possessions and forced to relocate, often to reservations far from their ancestral territory. According to tribal elders, modern folks ask why the various bands of our local Kumeyaay nation didn’t settle on San Diego’s coast. Their answer is that they did. The coast was part of the Kumeyaay annual migration from ocean to desert to mountains; white settlers forced them out of those desirable coastal regions.
But here’s an interesting thing. When people move into unfamiliar places, they see things that others miss or take for granted and learn to embrace their new circumstances. Eventually, I luxuriated in the warmth of a brilliant February day, tasted the complex flavors in pozole and carnitas, discovered a church home, and found a group of wonderful friends, including my husband Rich. Last week, we learned from Mother Brenda that, when St. Francis let go of his possessions and privilege, he noticed the wonders of creation and the injustices of his society.
After years of displacement, the Judean exiles realized that God wasn’t confined to the temple in Jerusalem; God was always in their midst. The psalmist says, “Come now and see the works of God, how wonderful he is in his doing toward all people. We went through fire and water; but you brought us out into a place of refreshment.” The Kumeyaay adapted to the harsh environment of the reservations; they created new recipes and crafts based on the natural resources they discovered in the scrubland. The glorious spirituals of enslaved Africans testified to the promise of freedom for future descendants they found in Scripture.
We discover enduring lessons of hope and resilience from these oppressed people. In his letter from prison, Paul reminds Timothy, “The Word of God is not chained.” It moves across culture, language, generations, and time itself.
This understanding of God’s steadfastness leads us to today’s Gospel reading. Jesus encounters ten people rendered unclean due to their skin afflictions: they’re living in the borderland between Galilee and Samaria, ostracized from their communities for fear of contagion. The Samaritan was double marginalized as a historical enemy of the Jewish people, including Jesus’ followers. Recognizing Jesus as a healer and rabbi, the ten ask for mercy. All ten are cured and obey Jesus’ instruction to have their cleanliness verified and return to family and friends.
Only the Samaritan, the foreigner, turns back, seeing what the other nine took for granted – the extravagant, abundant grace of God. The Samaritan’s response is to praise God and give thanks for Jesus’ gift of healing; the Greek word for thanks here is eucharisto, from which we get our word Eucharist. Jesus says that faith has made the Samaritan not just well, but whole – restored in body and soul. So, it seems faith has a lot to do with seeing God’s works and appreciating God’s presence. The poet Mary Oliver writes, “Let me keep my mind on what matters… which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished… which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here, which is mostly gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart and these body-clothes.”
Francisco Duarte, an ice cream street vendor, and his wife lived in San Diego for over 30 years, raising four children – three of whom attend college, including one at Stanford University. After years of immigration petitions and hearings, Francisco and his wife were given 30 days to leave the US for Mexico. Francisco’s daughter posted a video in which Francisco, his voice breaking, thanked his customers and their children and “this beautiful country that gave us so much.” He went on to thank God, declaring that “the will of God is perfect” and ended by asking God to bless us all. Unlike some elected officials who seem consumed with bitterness and venom, Francisco’s response is grounded in gratefulness and trust.
It can be difficult to see God amidst our busy schedules, disappointments, loss, and illness, and sometimes, we take God’s constancy for granted. But soon we’ll gather around this sacred table to praise God and celebrate the Eucharist, our remembrance of Jesus’ life and sacrifice. Sharing God’s holy food, may we also re-member ourselves to each other and find that gratitude is at the heart of our faith, a faith that makes us all whole.
