by: Stephen Phelps on November 4th, 2013 | No Comments »
Text: Daniel 7:1-18; Luke 6: 17-31
As this November marches on, the news will be noting well the ways by which we have come. On the 22ndof the month come ’round fifty years since that day in Dallas when Pres. Kennedy lay dead from a bullet. On Nov. 19th, we mark 150 years since Pres. Lincoln traveled to Gettysburg, Penna. for the dedication of this country’s first national cemetery. The 278 words of his speech, which Lincoln supposed the world would “little note nor long remember,” cut a new channel for the constitution of the young nation. His theme was the meaning of “these honored dead.” Late this month, we will celebrate Thanksgiving. Perhaps we will be reminded of the holiday’s origin, not with Pilgrims but with Pres. Lincoln, for it was just one week after his speech at Gettysburg that Americans first celebrated the national Thanksgiving holiday. Lincoln’s proclamation read, in part:
It has seemed to me fit and proper that . . . the gracious gifts of the Most High God . . . should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and voice by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens . . . to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father . . . And I recommend to them that . . . they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to his tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged . . .
In a word, Thanksgiving was established for a country dealing with death. Now here we are at All Saints, having remembered our beloved dead, with all the saints who from their labors rest. In a moment, we will share in the Lord’s Supper, and once more “proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes again.” From every angle, the mask of death regards us. Usually we turn from it. Yet surely it is a gift of faith in God to face what is real. Death is real. Indeed, every piston in the engines of culture and personal aspiration is driven by our relationship with death. Death is real. Let us turn and look.