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Thanksgiving: the sacred practice of giving thanks
When Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, of blessed memory, wrote, “Just to be is a blessing, just to live is holy,” he was expressing a core Jewish way of being in the world, an axiom for our living. We awaken each morning with a profound sense of Presence and purpose; we awaken with grateful astonishment at the gift of another day. We arise with this prayer on our lips, “Modeh ani l’fanecha melech chai v’kayam; shehechezarta bi nishmati, b’chemalah rabbah emunatecha; I am thankful before you, Holy Melech, You have returned my soul within me with compassion. Great is Your faithfulness.” Another day opens before us with wondrous possibility. Rabbi James Mirel wrote, “As we arise in the morning, the light of dawn reminds us that bringing love, bringing compassion, bringing peace—all ways of bringing light to the world—are not only G-d’s doing, but also our work. As Rav Kook, the twentieth-century mystic, taught, when you gather everything, without hatred, jealousy, or rivalry, the light of peace and a fierce boldness manifest in you. The splendor of compassion and the glory of love shine through you. The desire to act and work, the passion to create and to restore yourself, the yearning for silence and the inner shout of joy—these all band together in your spirit, and you become holy.”
Kumi! Arise! Cultivating an ‘attitude of gratitude’ may be the oldest form of prayer. Psalm 92, verse 2: states simply, “It is good to give thanks to the Holy One!” We appear each morning wearing our ‘attitude of gratitude.’ It is our mind-set, our way of being, the hopeful stance we take in the world. It is our daily prayer, Ho’da’ah, which is the 18th blessing of the daily Amidah. Our tradition teaches that this prayer was first spoken in the Beit HaMikdash, the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. After the destruction of both of our Temples, this prayer became part of our daily prayer book. Modim anachnu, we are grateful to You, Adonai, our G-d and G-d of our ancestors, always and forever. You are the Rock of our life and the Shield of our Forever. We give thanks and blessing to You for our lives which are in Your hands, and for our souls which are in Your keeping, for Your miracles and Your wonders that are with us each day. For all Your goodness which surrounds us evening, morning, and noon, we are grateful….Let all that lives give thanks to You. Blessed are You, Holy One, Our G-d, Your name is Goodness; it is pleasant to give thanks to You.
Giving thanks is not just for Thanksgiving; it is a pattern, a practice, and a holy, sacred way of being. It is expressed in the way we open our day, the way we walk, the way we talk, the way we do business, in all of the ways we are in the world. It is also part of who we are as US citizens to celebrate a day dedicated to being thankful. My family and I have created our own minhagim, customs, for observing Thanksgiving. I want to share several of them with you. We read this poem which is taken from the book, The Greatest Table, which was published by Share Our Strength, www.strength.org, a national non-profit organization dedicated to fighting the plague of childhood hunger.
The greatest table isn’t set
inside a single home—
oh no, it spans the continents,
and no one eats alone.
The table in your dining room,
a picnic bench, a tray,
a party tent, your beach blanket,
a small sidewalk café,
a banquet hall, breakfast in bed,
a lunch box, take-out sack,
the circle at a campfire roast,
or any teatime snack—
each one is just another leaf
in one uncommon table,
where all the guests have cooked or baked
or brought what they are able,
where all of us can help ourselves,
and all of us are fed,
and no one has been turned away
with just a crust of bread.
The greatest table, like a tree,
is growing leaf by leaf,
and widening its canopy
to welcome more beneath.
Its tablecloth is flowering
and covers all our knees;
its branches bend with every food
from pineapples to peas.
Who hasn’t eaten? Join us here,
Pull up another chair.
We’ll all scoot over, make more room;
There’s always some to spare.
Baskets mound with crusty breads,
there’s soup in simmering pots,
and bushels brim year-round with fruit—
now pears, now apricots.
And always in the company
there’s someone we can toast:
an elder, infant, long-lost friend,
an honored guest, the host.
The table talk is musical,
with every language shared;
in every face the thankfulness
is more than any prayer.
The next time you sit down to eat,
the greatest table’s set,
connecting you with each of us
who hasn’t eaten yet.
So if you’re hungry, join us here,
pull up another chair,
We’ll all scoot over, make more room;
there’s always some to spare.
We take time after reading the poem to give expression to our individual feeling of gratitude. Before eating, we read part of Psalm 100, as translated by Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, and then we make the Motsi.
Psalm 100
This is how you sing to G-d a thank You song.
You join the symphony of the whole earth
In your gratefulness you meet G-d,
Voices echo joy in G-d’s halls.
In giving thanks, we engage G-d’s blessings.
We meet G-d’s Goodness here and now…
May this Thanksgiving be a time of remembering our deepest truths, the foundations of our country, that each one of us deserves life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Let us engage in profound conversation about the kinds of lives we are leading; what are the liberties we expect and will not live without; what does it mean to pursue happiness.
Rabbi Stephanie Aaron
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CONGREGATION CHAVERIM