Dakota Beacon

An offering from the past reflects the challenge of today.

Thanksgiving proposes a time to reflect with a heart full of gratitude on the blessings given by the Almighty. A time of gathering embraces conviviality, warmth, and memory-making. “Thanksgiving Day,” a poem by Lydia Maria Child, invokes a spirit of happy memories. A few stanzas follow.

Over the river and through the wood,

            To grandfather’s house we go.

                        The horse knows the way

                        To carry the sleigh

            Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the wood,

            Trot fast, my dapple gray!

                        Spring over the ground,

                        Like a hunting hound!

            For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river and through the wood –

            Now grandmother’s cap I spy!

                        Hurrah for the fun!

                        Is the pudding done?

            Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

The real story begins in England in the early 1600s with freedom-seekers challenging King James’ ecclesiastical authority. They were hunted down, imprisoned, and sometimes executed. On August 1, 1620, a small band fled on the Mayflower. This tiny ship carried a total of 102 passengers, including forty Pilgrims. They believed they were in the hands of God. This was no pleasure cruise to the New World. During the first winter, half the Pilgrims, including leader William Bradford’s own wife, died. Most perished from starvation, sickness, or exposure. By spring they formed good relations with the Indians. Indeed, the Indians taught the settlers how to plant corn, fish for cod, and skin beavers for coats. Eventually, according to William Bradford’s journal, unleashing the industriousness of the Pilgrims ended up producing more than they needed for themselves. Trading, selling, and exchanging goods with the Indians followed. The first Thanksgiving was Plymouth Colony’s expression of gratitude thanking God for their new friends and many blessings.

Today, many sing a different tune. Often Thanksgiving exhibits more tension than tolerance. Conversations tiptoe on eggshells. Others deliberately seek confrontation fueled by drugs and alcohol. In our fractured society with splintered age groups, broken relationships, and a culture progressively separated from its Christian foundations, conversations may take a nasty turn.

Arguments flourish. How many genders are there? Were Squanto and Samoset transgender or binary? Should we fly the rainbow flag with the American flag? (Notice how artificial identities revolve around sex?) Donald Trump is guilty – or is he? Does Black Lives Matter really matter? Does the 1619 Project represent a lie or well-documented research? Must Critical Race Theory be crammed down people’s throats?

Certainly, each person can be thankful that things are not worse than they are. What follows is a poem written in the late 1800s by American Josiah Gilbert Holland titled “GOD, GIVE US MEN!” Contrasted with the amusement created by the diversity, equity, and inclusion crowd, consider the sonnet below as an earnest prayer for all men engaged in public service or in any form of leadership.

            GOD, GIVE US MEN! A time like this demands

            Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands;

                        Men whom the lust of office does not kill;

            Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy;

                        Men who possess opinions and a will;

            Men who have honor; men who will not lie;

            Men who can stand before a demagogue

                        And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking!

            Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog

                        In public duty and in private thinking;

            For while the rabble, with their thumb-worn creeds,

            Their large professions and their little deeds,

            Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom weeps,

            Wrong rules the land and waiting Justice sleeps.

Dennis M. Patrick can be contacted at (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).