Well, what a good Thanksgiving we had. It might be my favorite holiday. I like the constancy of Thanksgiving, the timelessness. Thanksgiving in 2024 feels like it felt when I was a kid in the 1960s, the same menu, some of the same people, the same conversations, and family jokes. Thanksgiving is not a time for novelty. Last year, my vegan brother brought a tofu roast to Thanksgiving and tried to make us eat it. As much as I love him, I told him, “Now is not the time to change the rules. Let’s stick with the tried and true.”
We’ve been talking about the do’s and don’ts in times of change, and today I invite us to consider the importance of timelessness and continuity. There is a time for novelty and experimentation, but in times of profound social change, there is much to be said for holding fast to what we know to be good, true, and helpful. While not every tradition is helpful, while not every tradition has contributed to human progress, some traditions endure because they have enduring value. They foster mutual respect, they promote dignity and equality, they advance understanding and enlightenment. Some traditions endure because they deserve to endure.
There are moments in history, and this is just such a moment, when it is incumbent upon us to remember and abide by those traditions that have served us well.
In a family, those enduring traditions are tenderness and mutuality. I wouldn’t want to belong to any family where those traditions were scorned. Would you?
In a church, those enduring traditions are grace, compassion, justice, and service. I wouldn’t belong to any church where those traditions were scorned. Would you?
In a democracy, those enduring traditions are compromise, cooperation, equality, the rule of law, effective participation, civility, majority rule, minority rights, and fair and free elections. I wouldn’t want to live in any nation where those traditions were scorned. Would you?
When I see traditions cast aside in order to give a relative few an oversized advantage, I become very old-fashioned and I say, “Now is not the time to change the rules. Let us stick with the proven good. Now is the time to hold fast to what we know to be helpful and true.” Often, in times of change, there are those who say our problems are insurmountable, that our challenges are so daunting and discouraging new approaches are needed. We are told the traditions that have served us so well for so long are no longer appropriate, no longer helpful, no longer adequate, and there is a headlong rush to embrace new practices. But have you noticed how often those new practices give the powerful and privileged an inordinate advantage, how often those new practices leave so many behind, while moving the relative few to the front of the line? Have you noticed that?
I was thinking this past week of my mother’s favorite sayings. Perhaps your mother said them too. They were, in order of frequency used, “Who do you think are?,” “One day you’ll thank me.,” and my personal favorite, “Are your legs broken?.” But my mom had another saying she reserved for those times when I did something beyond the pale. “That’s not how you were raised.” Which, of course, was meant to remind me that I was raised in a tradition of decency, that it was incumbent upon me to remember and abide by those time-honored traditions that have served us well.
Sometimes entire cultures and communities must be told the same thing. “That’s not how we were raised.”
Today, I hear some in our nation want to send immigrants away, people in the same circumstances as my Catholic grandfather who left Belgium and came to America at the age of 6 in 1913, at the height of anti-Catholic sentiment. When he went to school, he was told he didn’t belong in America, that he was too stupid to learn English, that he should go home to Belgium. He never had an ally, someone to take his side, so left school in the fourth grade. He never forgot that, and to his dying day could not tolerate intolerance. If he were still living, he would have something to say about this rush to condemn and exclude. I know exactly what he’d say. He’d say what my mother always said, “That’s not how we were raised.”
Today, some are singling out gay and trans people for ridicule and retribution, painting them as monsters and abusers, making their lives a fresh and living hell, but that’s not how we were raised.
Today, some want to funnel the vast resources of our nation into the pockets of a privileged few, leaving the middle-income and poor to fend for themselves, but that’s not how we were raised.
At the end of our meeting for worship today, Frank Gladden will sing One Little Candle, a long-time Fairfield tradition. Today, some would extinguish that candle and have us walk in darkness, but that’s not how we were raised.
But I don’t have to tell you that, do I? You know that. We know that. We remember how we were raised. We know what our mothers and fathers taught you. We know what our teachers taught us. We know what Jesus taught us. And we all know there are moments in history, and this is just such a moment, when it is incumbent upon us to remember and abide by those traditions that have served us well.
I am becoming more old-fashioned these days. Every day I grow fonder of the proven good, the time-tested truths, the open heart, the welcoming hand. In these times of change, don’t ever forget how we were raised.