Giving Thanks
When I was growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan, our family attended a congregational church where my favorite service was Thanksgiving. On this occasion, the sanctuary was dimly lit and utterly silent—and once we were all seated, a pageant unfolded.
People dressed as Pilgrims walked quietly up the aisles—the men in black, the women and children in gray. The men carried muskets and lanterns, the women carried babies and foot warmers. Next, a Native American chief appeared with a gorgeous headdress of feathers, followed by women and children in deerskin clothing.
Finally, the minister and choir marched in and took their places at the front where the altar was covered with fruits and vegetables. I watched all this with fascination and reverence, wishing I could be one of those Indian girls with fringe on my skirt.
After a blessedly brief sermon, we stood to sing the familiar hymns, “Come, We Thankful People, Come” and “We Gather Together.”
I understand now that this pageant wasn’t historically accurate, that Native Americans had little to be thankful for. And I wonder if there is a way to correct the story and still find gratitude? Gratitude, perhaps, for what we have learned and the abiding wish to gather together.