By ANTHONY B. ROBINSON
GUEST COLUMNIST
AROUND THIS TIME a couple of years ago I heard a sermon titled, "The Attitude of Gratitude." Sort of catchy, don't you think -- rhyming and all. But something about that title and the sermon bothered me.
"The Attitude of Gratitude" sermon made it all about us, exhorting us to get our attitudes cleaned up and ship shape. The bothersome thing was that it was mostly about us. Gratitude became another thing to do, another project, another adventure in self-improvement. And should we manage it or manufacture it, gratitude was then our proud accomplishment to be set alongside the other signs of a successful life. In addition to all that was spread on the table, we could congratulate ourselves that we were properly grateful. It was enough to make me grumpy.
A year later I heard another sermon, this one titled "The Gift of Gratitude." Somehow that seemed closer to the mark.
Gratitude is a gift and not something we achieve like teeth without cavities, better grades or the loss of five pounds. "The Gift of Gratitude" pointed us beyond ourselves to the Giver, to a source and power, a truth and grace beyond ourselves.
There is to the spiritual life an unavoidable aspect of self-forgetfulness. It's not about you. Gratitude is less our accomplishment or proper attitude than it is a gift -- a gift that comes often at the strangest and most unexpected of times. Like, for instance, when death occurs. You wouldn't think death would be an occasion for gratitude. To be sure, it is not our first or perhaps our primary response to death. And yet in the face and presence of death, the large mystery and sheer and extraordinary gift of life can be nearly overwhelming.
Gratitude has less to do with getting our attitudes cleaned up than it does with being set free from an anxious preoccupation with ourselves.
Recently I spoke at a church in Brooklyn, a great and historic church: Plymouth Church of the Pilgrims. Students of American history will know it as the pulpit of Henry Ward Beecher, leader of the 19th-century abolitionist movement. The church was known as the Grand Central Station of the Underground Railroad taking escaped slaves to freedom.
Sometimes greatness is, for churches, a mixed blessing. It has been for Plymouth Church. In the wake of historic prominence, the church had been so taken with itself and its golden era that its present life faded and faltered. In the closing years of the 20th century, a bare 50 people huddled in the grand sanctuary with seating for 800.
But in recent years, something has shifted. New people have come, the congregation is connecting with the community in a host of ways, and where there were once only elderly folks, there is now a rich mix of generations.
I asked a member of the congregation how this renewal had happened.
"It wasn't all our new minister, but he has sure helped," he said.
"How?" I asked. "What has he done?"
"Well, he got us studying the Bible, and his Bible studies are really great. In fact, he distilled the message of the whole Bible down to six words."
The message of the Bible in six words. I thought to myself, either this guy is a genius or a charlatan.
"And what might those six words be?"
Grinning, the man answered, "I am God, and you're not."
It was apparently just what the doctor ordered for a congregation that had gotten an overdose of its own importance. It's not about you.
I was reminded of the man I sat next to on an airplane not long ago. We got to talking and John told me about his journey from death to life through AA. He said he keeps a sign posted on his refrigerator that reads, "There is a God, John, and it's not you."
Telling folks to get an "Attitude of Gratitude" sounds good, I suppose.
But the heart of gratitude has less to do with us trying harder and more to do with us forgetting about ourselves, turning to a power and mystery, a beauty and a mercy, so much greater than ourselves.
Gratitude, too, it turns out, is a gift. A blessed Thanksgiving to all.
