In Gratitude

Rev. Seth Patterson

November 24, 2024, Thanksgiving Sunday

Scripture: Lamentations 3:25–26, 31–33

Seth

Friends—how does one begin to say goodbye?

Voice

Are you asking me?

Seth

Yeah, I think so.

Voice

Well, what is it you feel you need to say?

Seth

So much! How much time do we have!?

Voice

Are you planning on keeping these nice folks longer than necessary?

Seth

No. I also don’t know what to say. I’ve never really done this before.

Voice

Have you not left jobs before now?

Seth

I have left many jobs, but never left a community like this after working with them for this long. Everything else was much shorter. Seemed less significant.

Voice

Don’t you like to attempt to be funny? What if you started with a joke?

Seth

A joke? Ok. How did the ocean say goodbye to the beach? It just waved.

Voice

Can I say “booooo?” What was that?

Seth

It was pretty bad.

Voice

What do you really want to say?

Seth

I want to say thank you. I want to find some way to express my gratitude to this community for these last 8+ years together. I want to express my gratitude for the experiences I have been able to learn from, the questions we asked each other, the meetings, services, marches, meals, vigils, coffees, hospital and home visits. I am so grateful to you all, for this community, for this experience.

Voice

Is this your last sermon?

Seth

No, but almost. It is my last one outside of Advent and I am not going to insert my own stuff into that season. Plus, gratitude plus Thanksgiving seemed timely. But I am almost done and I am feeling that reality.

Voice

Then shouldn’t you get on with it and do something church-like?

Seth

Yeah, you’re right. Our reading today is from the Book of Lamentations, ancient poetry from the Hebrew Bible, traditionally ascribed to the Prophet Jeremiah. Please take a deep breath with me as we open our ears, minds and hearts to the words of our spiritual ancestors.

God is good to those who wait, to the soul that is seeking.

It is good that one should wait in the quiet for God’s rescue.

For we will not be rejected forever.

Although grief happens, God will have compassion according to the abundance of steadfast love; for God does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone.

Voice

What does that mean?

Seth

I don’t know.

Voice

Is this you trying to avoid making a claim on anything?

Seth

Kind of.

Voice

Don’t you think these folks deserve better?

Seth

Yes. So, Lamentations is a book of poetry, wrestling with loss. It has traditionally been assumed that it was written after the Babylonians destroyed Jerusalem, so it is often seen in the light of one’s political world being destroyed. It can also be seen as poetry about a life experiencing significant loss. And that is a pretty universal feeling for humans at different points in their lives. And it feels poignant for me today.

Voice

Are you feeling loss?

Seth

Yes, very much so. Since my family moved here from Chicago, this job, this community, this building has been central to my entire life. To separate myself from it is going to be tough. It has become part of my public and self-identity and I am grieving—will have to continue grieving—this loss.

Voice

But wasn’t it your choice to leave?

Seth

Yes. It was my decision and I stand by it but that doesn’t mean I won’t grieve the loss.

Voice

Isn’t it just a job?

Seth

Sometimes it certainly has been. We have also become integrated into the life of this community in ways that are lifegiving.

Voice

Has it always been lifegiving?

Seth

Is there something you want me to say?

Voice

Do I not just ask questions? (Pause) Has it always been lifegiving?

Seth

No. It has been incredibly difficult at times.

Voice

When? How?

Seth

A year after I started here, three out of four clergy resigned in a nine-month period. One of these resignations seemed to touch a livewire in this congregation and anger was quick and severe from many. I was startled to see a congregation turn on each other so quickly.

Then a year or so later, a conversation was presented to us about imagery that reflected historical and generational traumas on an embroidery, in this piece of excellent art made with loving hands by women of this congregation. Again, anger became the leading emotion along with this undercurrent of old resentments and mistrust. It was a difficult time for us all. I was new to functioning as clergy here and a lot of the anger became directed at clergy and often me specifically. Really mean things were said about us and me—and what maybe felt worst was the silence from the many folks that witnessed the mean-spirited comments and said nothing.

That was an especially difficult time and before we could untie ourselves from the anger, confusion and hurt we became overwhelmed by a global pandemic which changed everything. That was another significantly difficult time to be a leader in this community.

I learned so much. And as I begin to say goodbye, I find myself grateful for it all.

Voice

Grateful? So you no longer feel that these were difficult times?

Seth

They were still very difficult, but I have made some meaning out of them and I can choose to be grateful for the learning experience.

Voice

Why?

Seth

Does it matter why?

Voice

Are you avoiding showing vulnerability?

Seth

Two days after I turned twenty years old I almost drowned in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Isreal near Caesarea. When I emerged from the water, not understanding how I didn’t drown, I was overcome by the sense that something had been stripped away, that I was emerging new into the same world. I felt that I had been given an undeserved second chance and that I needed to live a life worthy of this gift.

Voice

You thought of all that back then?

Seth

Yeah. And no. It has taken me decades of curious self-work (and therapy) to understand and put words to what I felt crashing into me that day. Like a seed was planted in me but it has taken decades to grow into something I can begin to name and try to understand.

Voice

And what has it grown into?

Seth

It has grown into commitments. So much of me was stripped away as I stood dripping on that beach. I felt lost for so long, out of place in communities that I had once known so well. Slowly I began to deliberately and carefully replace what had been lost. I have made commitments to myself that sustain me every day.

Voice

What are those commitments?

Seth

I have made commitments to myself that I will not give up hope, work to respond in joy, and to express my gratitude.

Voice

Where did these commitments come from? Where did you learn them?

Seth

Lots of places in lots of ways. I have listened deeply and learned these are ways that I can bring something helpful to the world, often in ways that can seem countercultural.

I learned how to express gratitude from my parents and other elders in my life. I make this commitment to honor them.

From the wisdom of our too-many marginalized siblings, I learned that losing hope is a privilege that I don’t have to act upon. I maintain—and sometimes have to manufacture—a commitment to hope.

And I experience joy from my wife and daughter. We laugh a lot together. I make a commitment to the act of joy with and for them.

Voice

This wife and daughter of yours sound pretty awesome.

Seth

Did you just make a statement and not ask a question?

Voice

(clears throat) Umm…so what does all this have to do with Plymouth Congregational Church of Minneapolis?

Seth

These last 8 plus years have given me an opportunity to feel like I was doing something that was paying back that gift of a second-chance from 20 years ago. This was the first time I had a job that I felt I could authentically participate in repaying this debt by actively showing up in the world for the vulnerable, marginalized, oppressed and forgotten. At times this meant building safe systems for the young people of this congregation so they could become more than secondary participants. At other times this has meant inviting folks into the active and present work of justice. Or into the spiritual depths of art and artmaking. Sometimes it meant listening deeply to one of your stories of hope or loss, fear or joy. I am deeply grateful for the opportunities to practice a whole-person approach to community leadership, to wrestle with questions of what it means to be humans together in the face of the unknown. I stand here in gratitude.

Plus, it’s almost Thanksgiving and it is good practice to name aloud what we are grateful for so others can join us in gratitude.

Voice

And all that Lamentations stuff you named earlier?

Seth

Right. These poems of loss and sadness in Lamentations also contain passages like the one I read earlier. Passages of relief, of gratitude, of joy, of hope intermixed with the brokenness of the poet. We hear the poet remind us that even in pain God is with us, not to fix things, but to be present:

God is good to those who wait, to the soul that is seeking.

For we will not be rejected forever.

Although grief happens, God will have compassion according to the abundance of steadfast love; for God does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone.

Even though we are saying goodbye, and it can feel sad, God is present with us. I don’t believe that God is omnipotent or all powerful, but rather that God is omnipresent and everywhere. The promise is not that everything will be good, but that we are never alone. God is as present and full of love in the good times as the bad, the easy as the hard, the hellos and the goodbyes.

Voice

How are you going to end this?

Seth

First by asking a question, as is my habit. You all don’t get out of this without being asked to listen to your own selves too.

What are your commitments? What actions or ideas do you commit to no matter how difficult the moment, no matter how strong the wind blows. My commitments are hope, joy and gratitude. What are yours?

And what are you grateful for? Name them and then tell someone. Say them aloud. Spread them around. If you need a listener, tell me, I want to hear you.

Friends. I am so deeply grateful for my over 8 years working with and for you. I am grateful for these opportunities to learn together, to wrestle with big things together, and to be transformed together by the good and the bad, the hard and the easy, the hellos and goodbyes. I love you all. And may you love yourselves, each other and all others.

Voice

May it be so.

Seth

Yes, may it be so.