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GRATITUDE AS A SPIRITUAL PRACTICE

A Sermon by the Rev. Susan Manker-Seale
November 23, 2003

There are many kinds of spiritual practice:  yoga and strengthening the physical body; meditation and focus on breath or on emptying the mind; prayer and petition; and mindfulness, as the Buddhist priest Thich Nhat Hanh describes.  These are a few of the ways both the well-known religions and the lesser-known religions teach us to know ourselves or the universe or god better.

I know the word “spiritual” irritates some of you, since it brings to mind the mind/body/spirit divisions Plato got started.  To help you get a broader understanding of what is meant by “spiritual practice,” we’ll look not just at the definitions, but also at the word origins, of “spirit.”  The word “spirit” derives from the latin spiritus, meaning “breath.”  The first definition of “spirit” in the American Heritage Dictionary says, “the vital principle or animating force within living beings.”  Spiritual practice, then, can be defined as a practice that helps us to get in touch with that vital principle or animating force within us, what gives us life and purpose.  It is interesting to me that many meditations focus on breath, which is the root meaning of spirit.

People turn to spiritual practice in hopes of understanding themselves better as well as in hopes of connecting with the vital principle or animating force within living beings, whether one defines that as god or as human compassion or as wisdom or as enlightenment.  And spiritual practice does not just end with the internal focus, but rather aims to turn each of us back out toward the world, toward our connections with each other and all life, toward a sense of responsibility for shaping the world into our vision of what is good and just and right.

In addition to meditation and prayer, yoga and mindfulness, the expression of gratitude is also a spiritual practice.  It is one I developed early in my life, whether through the teachings of my Unitarian Universalist congregation or through those of my family, I don’t know.  In many ways, life itself teaches us to be grateful, if we’re paying attention, and being thankful is a religious precept we all have inherited.

Take Thanksgiving.  In our country, every schoolroom learns the story of the Pilgrims and the Indians sharing their first harvest meal, and expressing their gratitude for the help they received from their friends and from the gods.  Blessings at meals is a Judeo-Christian tradition, one which I would guess translates into many cultures and religions.  When people live at the whims of nature and the seasons, weather and health, a good meal is not to be taken for granted, and the expression of gratitude is perhaps universal.  Even when we don’t say blessings or prayers, there is no denying the seed of appreciation that is in our hearts, whether that gratitude is expressed toward a deity, or toward humans whose labors have led to our living lives of abundance and care, or toward nature whose unpredictable interdependence has gifted us with the fortunate circumstance of eating a good meal.

At bedtime, children are encouraged to count their blessings, to think on those things that are good in their lives.  Focusing on the good enables us to realize that our cups are half full rather than half empty, helping us to choose where we will live our lives.  For example, I learned as a mother giving birth that heaven exists in the two minutes between contractions--that pause that gives rest and breath until the next tortuous, unimaginable pain.  It is the same as when, as a child, one has cried out all one’s tears only to discover a deep sense of peace.  We can live focusing on the pain and tears, or on the moments of rest and breath and peace.  They exist side-by-side for all of us, always there as potential and possibility.

I found it hard to find readings on gratitude and thankfulness.  There were a few in our hymnal, which we’re using today, but there were absolutely none in Reader’s Digest’s The Treasury of Religious and Spiritual Quotations.  Out of over 260 topic words, not one was a synonym to “gratitude.”  How can gratitude not be religious and spiritual?  I wondered if the editors just made a mistake, if gratitude slipped their minds as something important in life.  Or, maybe our culture has begun to think of gratitude as a secular emotion, or even as irrelevant to a society that promulgates a culture of expectation rather than appreciation.

For those of us born in the last half century, we have not known war on our own land, or severe economic depression, or scarcity.  We expect to be able to find what we need or want.  We live like kings and queens in the eyes of the world, and our poorest have much more than the poorest in so-called Third World countries, who are dying of famine or war or disease or bad water and over-crowding.  We have so much to be thankful for, and when we enter into an attitude of gratitude, we are acknowledging that there are others in the world so much worse off, and that very awareness and recognition can inspire us to want to make their lives better in whatever ways we can.  Instead of focusing on what we don’t have, we can focus on the abundance that we have created/acquired/been gifted with here in this country, and share that with the needy in the world.

 

Gratitude and appreciation is a simple practice, and doesn’t require belief in supernatural things, like miracles, but rather an attention to reality as it is.  Thich Nhat Hanh writes of the miracle that is life itself:  “…I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.  Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize:  a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child--our own two eyes.  All is a miracle….”  (The Miracle of Mindfulness, p. 12)

Gratitude is also a practice that is always with us and doesn’t require a specific place or ritual.  The thirteenth century sufi mystic Rumi wrote a beautiful poem which expresses this sense of gratitude as something integrally a part of us, though he speaks of divine relationship:

You’ve read where it says that
Lovers pray constantly.
Once a day, once a week, five times an hour,
is not enough.  Fish like we are
need the ocean around us.
Do camel-bells say, Let’s meet again
Thursday night?
Ridiculous.  They jingle
together continuously,
talking while the camel walks.
Do you pay regular visits to yourself?
Don’t argue or answer rationally.
Let us die,
and dying, reply.
   (--The Illuminated Rumi, p. 122)

The spiritual practice of gratitude is most like Thich Nhat Hanh’s practice of mindfulness.  It is a way of being; it is a recognition of being.  It is constantly with us in all that we do, like the unending prayer of divine love.  The ocean is the miracle of life that surrounds us and the state of wonder and gratitude is the holy state of being.

The miracle that is this life on earth becomes even more amazing when we remember that life has been destroyed almost completely at least twice in history by meteors slamming into the planet.  It is a miracle we have evolved the way we have, and another miracle that we still exist, considering the close encounters with comets and such these past few years.  We are becoming aware of just how precious our existence is in this universe, and that calls even more strongly for a constant appreciation of life and a compassionate caring for this beautiful planet and all these wondrous creatures and creations.

Gratitude as a spiritual practice only requires that we open ourselves to that sense of appreciation for all that surrounds us and is part of us, to walk on the earth with gratitude in every step, every breath.  When we know we are part of this incredible creation/evolution, we can know we are not alone, and that in the way the world supports us, so can we support the world with our love, compassion and strength.

Reading:

From The Miracle of Mindfulness, by Thich Nhat Hanh, pp. 12, 47-48, 49

“I like to walk alone on country paths, rice plants and wild grasses on both sides, putting each foot down on the earth in mindfulness, knowing that I walk on the wondrous earth.  In such moments, existence is a miraculous and mysterious reality.  People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle.  But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.  Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize:  a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child--our own two eyes.  All is a miracle….

"…the great body of reality is indivisible.  It cannot be cut into pieces with separate existences of their own….

“Consider the example of a table.  The table’s existence is possible due to the existence of things which we might call ‘the non-table world’:  the forest where the wood grew and was cut, the carpenter, the iron ore which became the nails and screws, and countless other things which have relation to the table, the parents and ancestors of the carpenter, the sun and rain which made it possible for the trees to grow.

“If you grasp the table’s reality then you see that in the table itself are present all those things which we normally think of as the non-table world.  If you took away any of those non-table elements and returned them to their sources--the nails back to the iron ore, the wood to the forest, the carpenter to his parents--the table would no longer exist.

“A person who looks at the table and can see the universe is a person who can see the way…

“We have to strip away all the barriers in order to live as part of the universal life.  A person isn’t some private entity traveling unaffected through time and space as if sealed off from the rest of the world by a thick shell….  In our lives are present a multitude of phenomena, just as we ourselves are present in many different phenomena.  We are life, and life is limitless.”

Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Northwest Tucson