As we approach Thanksgiving Day, it occurs to me that giving thanks is much more than a one-day event. The Church emphasizes the importance of giving thanks to God as a continual practice in the life of the believer and teaches that thanksgiving should be a pillar of our spirituality. I know this to be true; however, how do you give thanks in the midst of tragedy?
As human beings, we are beset by events that can be truly horrendous: the loss of a spouse or a child, the loss of a home by fire, the loss of a job, and events much, much worse — too horrible to even contemplate. In such circumstances, how can one give thanks to God?
The Church teaches that every event and need can become an offering of thanksgiving, encouraging believers to give thanks in all circumstances as part of God's will for them. This is perhaps theologically true, but in the face of tragedy, this statement can seem nothing more than a shallow platitude.
I am a clinical social worker, and in my more than 40 years of practice, I have heard clients speak of tragic events in their lives that are unimaginable. Some remain transmuted and damaged for the rest of their lives. Yet others emerge from the brink of devastation transfigured into a new person. How is this?
I have a friend whom I call “Pollyanna.” She’s one of those people that if you told her, “The doctor said they are going to have to amputate my arm,” she would respond with something like, “At least you’ll have the other arm.”
I often wondered how a person like that would react if they had a real tragedy in their life. Well, Pollyanna did; it was a tragedy that befell her son — one so unspeakable that it is even difficult for me to ponder as I write this.
Initially, she was quite despondent. But slowly, over the weeks and months, she began to be transformed. She was like herself but not like herself — in a good way, if you know what I mean.
She seemed even gentler, kinder, and more understanding. But even more importantly, she was, in a very odd way, grateful to God. When I asked her how this could be, she simply held up her rosary. “Ah,” said I.
That incident reminded me of something another friend once said. He ran a chemical dependency rehab for adolescents and regretted the fact that the majority of his patients would not succeed. Yet he told me, “The only kids in here who have a chance of recovery are those with some kind of faith.” This was from a man who really did not practice any faith that I could discern.
So, I guess that’s the answer — faith. Faith that God does indeed have a plan for each and every one of us. Faith that no matter how much we mess it up or tragedy befalls us, God will somehow make things right, even if we never see it. Faith that somehow God will always draw straight with the crooked lines of our life.
Thanks be to God!
By Deacon Ben LoCasto