Some history. The lectionary Gospel for this year's Thanksgiving Day, Matthew 6:25-34, was a "biggie" in my very first years as a teacher. It also is a cardinal text in the history of Crossings. How so?
Back in the late 1950s a few of us young Turks, most of us not yet thirty, theology instructors at Valparaiso University in northwest Indiana, were commissioned by the university prez to "do something!" about the Sunday-School style religion courses at Valpo. What was common at church-related colleges then was true with us too: four required two-credit-hour courses, all "survey" stuff--one each in Bible, doctrine, church history and ethics.
Head honcho for carrying out the "do something" mandate was new dept. head, Bob Bertram (he was over thirty!). Bob conjured the prime paradigm, we younger Turks hammered it out. Here's how it went. Use the church lectionary as the theological backbone for the required four courses. Use the Gospel readings and their theological substance, week for week as they came up during the two semesters of the freshman year. Do likewise with the epistle pericopes for the sophomore year. Connect those readings ("cross them," we now say) to slice-of-life stuff from the student's own environment--academic and personal--as well as to the secular and churchly culture roundabout. Constrain students to practice such crossings in written work each week.
It was a wild experiment, conflicted all the way--within the department, within the university, and with many a student's hometown pastor. We had about 5 good years, something akin to Luther's word about God's "Platzregen" that showers the land for a while--and then moves on. Later still, Bertram in '63 and I in '71 moved on to Concordia Seminary in St. Louis and then into Seminex. The penchant for the pericopes and crossings-theology came along. Eventually the Crossing Community, Inc., a Missouri-not-for-profit corporation, came into being. Sabbatheology and Thursday Theology continue the tradition.
If you want to know more about those origins, consult the current issue of Valparaiso University's magazine, THE CRESSET (Reformation, 2000). Editor Gail McGrew Eifrig, a V.U. freshman when it all started in 1958, devotes 4 perceptive pages to this slice of her own life and what it did and didn't do for the university to which she returned some years later as prof herself.
So what's that got to do with Matt. 6 and Thanksgiving Day? you ask. First you must remember that in 1958 there was no three-year lectionary. Just a one-year lectionary with the same texts coming around again year after year as they had for perhaps a 1000 years in the Western Church.
So Matt. 6:25-34 was always the appointed Gospel for the 15th Sunday after Trinity. Even though the calendric mobility of Easter lengthened/shortened the Trinity season, Trinity 15 regularly popped up in September. So the fall semester of "New Testament Readings: Gospels," freshman introduction to "university theology," began with Matt. 6:25-34. And it proved to be a shocker.
Here in the Sermon on the Mount Jesus is preaching on the first commandment, saying that there are really only two options--serving God or serving Mammon. You can only have one god at a time. Most all of our students knew that, and they (most of them LCMS Lutherans) had long since opted to serve God. No big deal. But Jesus' own diagnosis presses deeper. Do you worry? he asks. Of course, we do. Who doesn't? Well, then, do you notice that Jesus links worry with serving Mammon, not with serving God? So if you do worry--and who doesn't--you are a first-commandment-breaker. Now, wait a minute! And as if that's not bad enough notice how Jesus' diagnosis gets grimmer and grimmer as he pushes deeper. It's even worse than that.
I can't lay my hands on the ancient syllabus pages for Trinity 15 right now, but I think I can reconstruct the Crossings-style paradigm. First I'll key in the text (NRSV).
24No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and
love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot
serve God and wealth (mammon). 25Therefore I tell you, do not worry about
your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body,
what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than
clothing? 26Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor
gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of
more value than they? 27And can any of you by worrying add a single hour
to your span of life? 28And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the
lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29yet I
tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.
30But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and
tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you--you of
little faith? 31Therefore do not worry, saying, "What will we eat?" or
"What will we drink?" or "What will we wear?" 32For it is the Gentiles who
strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you
need all these things. 33But strive first for the kingdom of God and his
righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34So do
not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.
Today's trouble is enough for today.
I think we took 4 steps to get down to the final diagnosis--
[I do remember that in class we checked the Exodus text for the original promulgation of the first commandment and noted the grim words for those who "do not love me and keep my commandment," a visit from God with a total wipe-out clause. Grass-like fate indeed.]
And remember Jesus is doing this diagnosis on his disciples, not the worldlings who might be expected to be hooked on mammon, on "stuff," getting it and hanging on to it. So even for disciples first-commandment-keeping is an impossible demand--and the consequences for not doing so lethal. Is there any good news to cope with this diagnosis, yes, finally to trump it? Yes, but in this pericope it is very brief, and then in code language to boot.
Summa:
Thanksgiving Days calls us to reflect on how we relate to "stuff."
[Think about that as you're stuffing the bird.] For all of us "stuff" is
gift, even when we work hard to bring it home. Luther's one-liner for
Thanksgiving was "Alles ist Gabe," everything is gift. Focusing on stuff
as gift means focusing on the Giver. Christ gives us a new
mercy-management connection with The Giver. From then on it's gift all the
way down--kingdom, righteousness, the things as well. The heart of
thanksgiving is trusting the Gift-Giver.