It’s Thanksgiving week. Growing up, we didn’t celebrate holidays (being good Witnesses and all). I didn’t feel like I missed anything; I understood the reasons we didn’t participate in Christmas, Easter, Halloween or the July 4th festivities; they were either pagan in origin (and thus had no place in a good Christian household) or they were patriotic in origin (in which case they also had no place in a good Christian household, but for slightly different reasons). The one exception (grudgingly, in Dad’s case) was Thanksgiving. While there may be some pagan versions of a festival around harvest time, there is also a biblical precedent: the Festival of Ingathering, or celebration of a harvest. So while Witnesses didn’t expressly celebrate it, at least there wasn’t an annual diatribe against Thanksgiving, as there was against Christmas, Easter and the others, pointing out its pagan (and thus unscriptural) origins and warning against such celebrations. So we would trek across the street every Last Thursday of November to Grandma and Grandpa Shaddles’ to join them and the Andersons (our cousins) for a turkey feast. My grandparents always had Thanksgiving dinner at their house, and I think Dad found a loophole or two that he felt made it OK for us to join them (although I think he also always felt guilty about it!) I remember well the smells and sounds of the preparation, the anticipation and then the wonderful dinner followed by the grownups dozing in the living room while we kids played. Dad would make sure we finished in time to get to the the Thursday Meeting in Pontiac, I think partly to salve his conscience; he never quite got past the feeling that he shouldn’t be enjoying himself.
When the three of us got to be adults, we started having our own rituals around Thanksgiving (but without the guilt trip, at least for Kathy and me. I think Jim may still have a pang or two, but it never coalesces into enough of an issue to make him not want to participate.) Anyhow, our traditions now include our version of the same turkey dinner with all the trimmings, lots of champagne consumption, watching movies, doing jigsaw puzzles and in general, eating everything in sight and then cocooning with family. It’s a very important and cherished tradition for me, and I’m pleased beyond measure that Cathy seems to enjoy it as much as I do. I feel no connection to any religious rites or rituals at all; it’s totally secular for me. Instead it’s all about family and a sense of belonging. It gives me an opportunity to spend time with my family and take comfort in our traditions.
And I’m thankful for it.
About BigBill
Stats: Married male boomer.
Hobbies: Hiking, woodworking, reading, philosophy, good conversation.
Family, traditions and giving thanks
It’s Thanksgiving week. Growing up, we didn’t celebrate holidays (being good Witnesses and all). I didn’t feel like I missed anything; I understood the reasons we didn’t participate in Christmas, Easter, Halloween or the July 4th festivities; they were either pagan in origin (and thus had no place in a good Christian household) or they were patriotic in origin (in which case they also had no place in a good Christian household, but for slightly different reasons). The one exception (grudgingly, in Dad’s case) was Thanksgiving. While there may be some pagan versions of a festival around harvest time, there is also a biblical precedent: the Festival of Ingathering, or celebration of a harvest. So while Witnesses didn’t expressly celebrate it, at least there wasn’t an annual diatribe against Thanksgiving, as there was against Christmas, Easter and the others, pointing out its pagan (and thus unscriptural) origins and warning against such celebrations. So we would trek across the street every Last Thursday of November to Grandma and Grandpa Shaddles’ to join them and the Andersons (our cousins) for a turkey feast. My grandparents always had Thanksgiving dinner at their house, and I think Dad found a loophole or two that he felt made it OK for us to join them (although I think he also always felt guilty about it!) I remember well the smells and sounds of the preparation, the anticipation and then the wonderful dinner followed by the grownups dozing in the living room while we kids played. Dad would make sure we finished in time to get to the the Thursday Meeting in Pontiac, I think partly to salve his conscience; he never quite got past the feeling that he shouldn’t be enjoying himself.
When the three of us got to be adults, we started having our own rituals around Thanksgiving (but without the guilt trip, at least for Kathy and me. I think Jim may still have a pang or two, but it never coalesces into enough of an issue to make him not want to participate.) Anyhow, our traditions now include our version of the same turkey dinner with all the trimmings, lots of champagne consumption, watching movies, doing jigsaw puzzles and in general, eating everything in sight and then cocooning with family. It’s a very important and cherished tradition for me, and I’m pleased beyond measure that Cathy seems to enjoy it as much as I do. I feel no connection to any religious rites or rituals at all; it’s totally secular for me. Instead it’s all about family and a sense of belonging. It gives me an opportunity to spend time with my family and take comfort in our traditions.
And I’m thankful for it.
About BigBill
Stats: Married male boomer. Hobbies: Hiking, woodworking, reading, philosophy, good conversation.