PRACTICES OF GRATITUDE

A Homily by James Ishmael Ford
24 November, 2002

There’s a story in the Mahabharata, one of the central epics of the Hindu faith, where Bhishma the divine son of the sacred Ganges is asked about the source of sin and evil in the world. Bhishma replies to his questioner, a young King seeking wisdom. "From greed sin and all irreligion flows, a stream of misery. Greed is the poisoned spring of all cunning and hypocrisy in the world. It is greed which makes people sin…" Greed is the source of evil.

I think we find the same deep source inspiring that famous passage in the King James translation of the New Testament’s 1 Timothy 6:10. "The love of money is the root of all evil." In her essay "Greed: the mother of all sins," writer Phyllis Tickle explains the word translated as the phrase "the love of money" is in fact avaritia – which we would today more likely translate as avarice or greed.

If in that biblical turn of phrase we focus our attention on the word "money," we actually miss the point. It isn’t about money, which is a powerful and dangerous force, but without any particular meaning in and of itself. Rather the problem for us lies within our grasping, our reaching endlessly for one thing after another.

The sin of it has to do with the emptiness of most lives, and the damage we do as we vainly attempt to fill that emptiness with one thing after another. Often this is money, but it is by no means the only thing we throw into that pit. However the void is too great, the emptiness too pervasive, so our attempts to get enough to fill that ache turns out only to cause endless damage and hurt for ourselves and others.

And now here we are today. The advertisements for the Christmas season are already upon us. The calls to greed are trumpeted everywhere. And in the great complexity, our economy requires, desperately needs people loosening purse strings and spending some money. So, what is one to do? Where is the harmonious path here?

Well, in this season devoted so much to purchasing things, at a time when for many reasons we most of us must be about purchasing things, let’s stop just for a moment. Let’s stop and just notice. If we allow ourselves this noticing, good things can in fact happen. There are, I suggest, some simple steps we can take moving us from greed to generosity, from an itch that cannot be scratched to a path of joy and possibility.

Here are the steps I suggest. First, we need to notice how we constrict our vision of what might be. Then we need to act to open ourselves a little through that difficult practice of forgiveness. Next we need to assess what it is that we really need. From there we can begin to open ourselves to the joy that surrounds and nourishes us like the very air. From that we can begin to experience the mysterious and numinous ordinary. And at that moment we find our true heritage, our original blessing, and can engage the way of wonder and joy as our birthright. And least that’s what I claim. Let’s see.

First, the foundation: We need to learn how to cut people some slack, others and ourselves. We need to do some of the fundamental work of forgiveness as the first step toward opening ourselves to new possibilities, to a broader vision.

The Jewish writer Melinda Ribner suggests how we should "Try to forgive others, even if they have not asked for forgiveness." Her point is simple. "Forgiveness is a gift you give to yourself." Now, this doesn’t mean not doing what you need to protect yourself and those you love. This is not about being foolish.

Forgiveness means to not tie your self to a corpse. This is the point of learning how to forgive, others and just as significantly, ourselves: Holding onto resentment and anger is nothing less than tying ourselves to a corpse, dragging it around everywhere we go. You, I, we, need to cut ourselves free from our clinging to how we’ve been abused and hurt. Take the necessary actions, but then let go.

As we let go, as we cut those ropes tying us to that bit of nastiness, then we have the perspective that allows us to ask the truly important questions, like "What do I really need?" One can do this in all sorts of ways. One way is simply composing a list. Most of this isn’t rocket science. We forgive and gain useful perspectives that allow us to see our genuine needs. And as we reflect from a place beyond resentments and fear we begin to see our needs are mostly pretty simple.

As we assess for ourselves our true needs then we can move beyond avarice and greed, and instead, begin to taste the fruits of generosity. And what would that look like? Well, one of my favorite Gary Larsen cartoons is that one where the cow guru is speaking to her disciples, and she declares, "Remember to stop and eat the roses." Eat, smell, you get the idea.

If we have remembered the first steps, if we have done a little of the work of forgiveness, if we have thought a bit about what we really need, then as naturally as a flower unfolding we find we have a certain spaciousness in our lives. Freed from the constrictions of grasping and resentment, knowing a little of ourselves and our genuine needs; we can actually notice how wonderful what is truly is. At that moment we can eat, or maybe just smell, the roses.

All the great sages call us to return to the ordinary. When we’ve let go of our ideas of how things should be, when we embrace a more simple life, then we are open to the mysterious possibilities of what is actually going on.

Doing this how can we miss the wonder and beauty of it all? This, in fact, becomes a practice of gratitude, of thanksgiving. And as we continue to attend it grows deeper. Here we find the sadness and the tragedy are also part of it, thorns on roses. As we continue to expand our consciousness in that spirit of generosity, we begin to see just how large, fragile and beautiful we really are.

I think this is the source of that reflection by the Unitarian Universalist minister Joy Atkinson. "The womb of stars embraces us; remnants of their fiery furnaces pulse through our veins. We are of the stars, the dust of explosions cast across space.

"We are of the earth: we breathe and live in the breath of ancient plants and beasts. Their cells nourish the soil; we build our communities on their harvest of gifts. Our fingers trace the curves carved in clay and stone by forebears unknown to us.

"We are a part of the great circle of humanity gathered around the fire, the hearth, the altar. We gather anew this day to celebrate our common heritage. May we recall in gratitude all that has given us birth."

In that spirit, in that knowing of how vast it all is, in that possibility of gratitude, of thanksgiving, may we now join together in lighting our candles of remembrance.