1 10 3 https://thurman.pitts.emory.edu/files/original/e0a7127026a60177b7ca3bdd84172c07.pdf 5a9a799f69d40f0a52542e973cd9cb9f PDF Text Text Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu 394-808.mp3 Pitts Theology Library Emory University You are very kind. Have you ever said it? Words which gather to themselves all the harvest of gratitude, planted by years of living, spring alive in you by the miracle of a simple deed that bears no mark of obligation. Men deserve praise for deeds of calculating courage when odds are weighed and the die is cast on the side of action, unrestrained but clear. Men deserve honor when, through long days or years, they have wrested from the stubborn gods gifts to bless, to heal, to redeem their kind. Men deserve reverence, all men. For in them dwells the undying fire, a flame from the light that no darkness can dispel. But kindness-- where can there be found one whose deeds, however great, whose life, however blameless, whose heart, however pure, can claim of another the kind act, the gracious offering? Kindness can never be coupled with merit. It is the overflowing of the heart that crowns another with a radiance born not of duty, of requitement, but of love. Christmas is a mood, a quality, a symbol. It is never merely a fact. As a fact, it is a date on the calendar. To the believer, it is the anniversary of an event in human history. An individual may relate himself meaningfully to the fact or the event, but that would not be Christmas. The mood of Christmas, what is it? It is a quickening of the presence of other human beings into whose lives a precious part of one's own has been released. It is a memory of other days, when into one's path, an angel appeared, spreading a halo over an ordinary moment or a commonplace event. It is an iridescent of sheer delight that bathed one's whole being with something more wonderful than words can ever tell. Of such is the mood of Christmas. The quality of Christmas, what is it? It is the fullness with which fruit ripens. Blossoms unfold into flowers, and live coals glow in the darkness. It is the richness of vibrant colors, the calm purple of grapes, the exciting redness of tomatoes, the shimmering light on the noisily stirring of a lake at sunset. It is the sense of plateau, with a large rock behind which one may take temporary respite from winds that chill. Of such is the quality of Christmas. The symbol of Christmas, what is it? It is the rainbow arched over the roof of the sky when the clouds are heavy with foreboding. It is the cry of life in the new born babe. When forced from its mother's nest, it claims its right to live. It is the brooding presence of the eternal spirit making crooked paths straight, rough places smooth, tired hearts refreshed. Dead hopes stir with newness of life. It is the promise of tomorrow at the close of every day, the movement of life in defiance of death, and the assurance that love is steadier than hate, that right is more confident than wrong, that good is more permanent than evil. 1 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Religious & National Holidays Description An account of the resource Various sermons, meditations, and readings related to holidays and national holidays. AudioWithTranscription Audio that is shown through the 3Play Media embedded interactive transcript Audio with Transcription <iframe width="100%" height="820" frameborder="0" src="/files/players/394-808.html" ></iframe> Original Title Title as transcribed from tape cassette Christmas Meditation, 1975 Feb 13 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 394-808 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Thurman, Howard Title A name given to the resource Christmas Meditation, 1975 February 13 Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a href="http://pid.emory.edu/ark:/25593/rp8k9">MSS 394</a> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available <a href="http://pitts.emory.edu/">Pitts Theology Library, Emory University</a> Description An account of the resource Thurman explains the mood, quality, and symbol of Christmas. This contrasts with viewing Christmas as merely a day on the calendar, or a commemoration of an event. He uses sharp imagery to describe each of these features. For example, the mood of Christmas is “an iridescent of sheer delight that bathed one's whole being with something more wonderful than words can ever tell.” The quality is “the calm purple of grapes.” The symbol is “the promise of tomorrow at the close of every day” and “that good is more permanent than evil.” Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Description by Erik Mattson Christmas mood quality symbol https://thurman.pitts.emory.edu/files/original/fa737cbb64cbdf3fb75ac5823081c1ed.pdf 58b6aa10f68e7284431b26ff74332edc PDF Text Text Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu 394-725_A.mp3 We remember how it was with us a year ago. And we finger, one by one, some of the experiences by which our days were surrounded. Pitts Theology Library Emory University It is very good, once again, to be gathered together in the quietness, to feel each other's presence, to sense the mood and become aware of the season and the time. All kinds of recollections and memories crowd in upon us as we sit together in the stillness. And for some of us, the great miracle is that we are here today, able to be ourselves, to claim our bodies as our bodies, and watch them respond with vigor and vitality to the commands of the mind and the intensity of the emotions. We remember those whose minds are leaning and who do not know where they are or who they are, but sit in the twilight, waiting for they know not what, hoping, experiencing here and there glimpses of other times when they were whole. We remember those who have gone on ahead of us. And we recall in the quietness of recollection how we watched, day by day, waiting and trusting as we saw them slip quietly away from us. We remember the moments of joy when, without any preparation whatsoever, without any merit, we were visited by a strange and wonderful glory that made us know that life is good and life can be sweet. And we remember the desolate ones who are old and lonely today. And we try, with our imagination, to touch them in some way that will let them know that life has not quite deserted them. We remember our own dreams and the hopes that keep us going, and how we deal with our own failures and frustrations. Remember, even though we do not understand it, all of those who have looked to us for help and we didn't know it and we went on our way. Our Father, accept the offering of our lives in accordance with the pattern of our own desires and hopes and dreams. Teach us, oh God, how to walk confidently by the light that falls on our own path to the end, that we will not break Thy heart by disappointing Thy dream for us. And for us, our Father, this is enough-- enough, oh God, God, God, our Father. Amen. Search me, oh God, and [? know ?] my heart. Try me, and know my thoughts. And see if there be any wicked way in me. And lead me in the way everlasting. I am dividing our time between some reading that I want to do and a comment I want to make. But don't be distressed. I have four books up here, but I'm not going to read them all. [LAUGHTER] 1 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu The first is, again and again in the course of the history of nations and individuals, a single event becomes a critical point by which the life or death of vast issues is determined. A chance word overheard by a passerby may alter the entire structure of one's subsequent days. Pitts Theology Library Emory University An impression made upon the mind of a growing child by some nameless person who crossed his path and disappeared may be the motif that shapes the fate of millions of people years after, when the child has become a leader of men, strategically placed at a fateful crossroads in the history of a people. It is impossible to know when a moment is the moment, when an act is the act, when an issue is the issue. In 165 BC, a Jewish leader, Judas Maccabeus, with or without a sense of destiny-- we do not know which-- spearheaded the funded hopes and dreams and dedicated passions of Israel and [? flung ?] them triumphantly in the face of the legions of [? entire ?] [INAUDIBLE] [? epiphanies, ?] unraveling a thread, out of which the patterns of Christianity and Mohammedanism were woven. It is well within the mark to say that if that for which Judas Maccabeus stood had been defeated, it is not unreasonable to assume that Judaism would have perished. And without Judaism, there would have been no Christianity and no Mohammedanism. The human family would have been easily involved indefinitely in pouring out its votive offerings before altars of idolatry, stark and meaningless, yielding no hope and no response. It is in celebration of this event, of what may be regarded as unconscious destiny, that the feast of lights is commemorated for eight days in December and countless Jewish homes all over the world. A single event in history-- a man who refuses to renounce his faith, either by default or by defeat, becomes, in the cycling wisdom of providence, rich in variety and creativity, that gate through which have marched hundreds of generations of men to a life abundant and a hope [? undamned. ?] Number one. There must always remain, in every people's life, some place for the celebration of those events of the past that bear their fruit in the present-- those events in which the race seems to catch its breath and to give the long look forward and backward such events are surrounded by a quality all their own, and yet they seem to gather into themselves the essence of all striving and the meaning of all hope. Hanukkah is such an event. Here was a moment in the life of Israel in which a people were faced with an ultimate choice. And on the one hand, to renounce a very heart of a faith in one God with whom they were covenanted and to give a false value to a profound communal commitment. On the other hand, to say yes to a truth by which the steps of the past had been guided and there was no light and no guide, save one. One man, in his vision, became first a whole nation and then the whole race of mankind, as he affirmed in his deed the Lord God is one, and alone is worthy to be worshiped and to be praised. From Him has come a way that, for generations of man, has become the way. 2 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu Now Christmas is such an event. Here was a moment in the life of Israel in which a baby was born in surroundings as commonplace as leaves and branches of the olive tree. Pitts Theology Library Emory University In Him was seen by many that for which their hearts had hungered and of which their dreams had foretold. He grew into manhood exhibiting in word and deed a fresh new quality of the ageold response of the spirit of man to the call of God. God was everything to Him. His was a vision of a great creative ideal that all men-- all men-- are children of God, that the normal relationship of one man to another is love and anything else is against life, and that there is a personal power, God, equally available to rich and poor, to Jew and Gentile, to men and women, to the wise and the stupid, to the just and the unjust. For millions, His birth marks the turning point in human history. Christmas is an event above all events, for it marks the moment when a new meaning is given to ancient words, the eyes of the blind are opened, the captive are set free, and the acceptable year of the Lord is become literal truth. Hanukkah and Christmas spring from the same womb and are mothered by the same brooding spirit. One marks freedom from tyranny and the preservation of the eternal light for all the generations of men. The other announces that there is a presence in the common life-- a light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world. Now, number three. I'm always impressed by the thing that happens to a creative mind when that creative mind zeros in on a creative spirit. And that's his or her imagination [? brewed ?] [? of all ?] of the other materials of his life. I'm referring to this thing that I'm going to read. It's a simple story. But it was written by Heywood Broun. And it appeared as a column in [? old ?] New York World. And he was a columnist there. No pretension at being what may be regarded as smugly religious, or anything of that sort. But when his mind and his spirit, his resources, his gifts were brought to bear to see if he could sense the idiom in this man's birth, he wrote three of four very significant columns in the [? old ?] New York World, appearing for four or five Christmas seasons in a row. One of them I want to read to you. "The host of heaven and the angels of the Lord had filled the sky with radiance. Now the glory of God was gone, and the shepherds and the sheep stood under dim starlight. The man was shaken by the wonders they had seen and heard. And like the animals, they huddled close. Let us now, said the eldest one to the shepherds, go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which has come to pass, which the Lord has made known unto us. The City of David lay behind a far, high hill, upon the crest of which there danced a star. The man made haste to be away. But as they broke out of the circle, there was one called Amos who remained. He dug his crook into the turf and clung to it. 3 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu Come, cried the eldest of the shepherds. But Amos shook his head. They marveled and called out, it is true! It was an angel. You heard the tidings. A Savior is born. I heard, said Amos. But I will abide. Pitts Theology Library Emory University The eldest walked back from the road to the little knoll on which Amos stood. You do not understand, the old man told him. We have a sign from God. An angel has commanded us. We go to worship the Savior who is, even now, born in Bethlehem. God has made His will manifest. It is not in my heart, replied Amos. And now the eldest of the shepherds was very angry. With your eyes, he cried out, you have seen the hosts of heaven in these dark hills. And you heard, for it was like thunder when glory to God in the highest came ringing to us out of the night. And again, Amos said, it is not in my heart. And another then broke in, because the hero you stands still and the sky has not fallen in, it's not enough for Amos. He must have something louder than the voice of God. Amos held more tightly to his crook and answered, I have need of a whisper. They laughed at him. What should this voice say in your ears? He was silent. And then they pressed about him and shouted, mockingly, Tell us now, what says the God of Amos, the little shepherd of 100 sheep? Meekness fell away from him. He took his hands from off the crook and raised them high. I, too, am a god, said Amos in a loud, strange voice. And to my 100 sheep, I am a savior. And when the din of the angry shepherds about him slackened, Amos pointed to his 100. Look at my flock. See the fright of them, the fear of the [? Bright ?] [? Angel ?] and the voices. All of this is still upon them. God is busy in Bethlehem. He has no time for 100 sheep. They are my sheep. I will abide. This, the others did not take so much amiss, for they saw that there was terror in all the flocks. And they, too, knew the ways of sheep. And before the shepherds went away on the road to Bethlehem toward the bright star, each one talked to Amos and told him what he should do for the care of their several flocks. And yet, one or two turned back a moment to taunt Amos before they reached the dip in the road which led to the City of David. It was said, we shall see new glories at the throne of God. And you, Amos-- you'll see only sheep. Amos paid no heed, for he thought to himself, one shepherd the less will not matter at the throne of God. Nor did he have time to be troubled that he was not to see the child who has come to save the world. 4 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu There was much to be done among the flocks. And Amos walked between the sheep and made, under his tongue, a clucking noise, which was a way he had. And to his 100 and to the others, it was a sound finer and more friendly than the voice of the [? Bright ?] [? Angel. ?] Pitts Theology Library Emory University Presently, the animals ceased to tremble and began to graze as the sun came up over the hills where the star had been. For sheep, Amos said to himself, angels shine too much. A shepherd is much better. With the morning, the others came up the road from Bethlehem. And they told Amos of the manger and of the wise men who'd mingled there with shepherds. And they described to him the gifts-- gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And when they were done, they said, and did you see wonders here in the fields with the sheep, Amos? Amos told them, my 100 now are 101. And he showed them a lamb, which had been born just before the dawn. Was, therefore, this a great voice out of heaven? Asked the eldest of the shepherds. Amos shook his head and smiled. And there was in his face that which seemed to the shepherds a wonder even in the night of wonders. To my heart, he said, their came a whisper." There are two Christmas events that I would share as my part of this. The first year of my own ministry at a small church in Oberlin, Ohio, where I was located, a man who always came and sat on the back seat-- and during the winter and summer, he wore a rose on the lapel of his jacket-- I didn't know his name because he disappeared as soon as I was through and we stood to sing to hymn. But I watched for him every Sunday. He was there. A few days before Christmas, he came by my house to invite me to come to spend a part of Christmas morning with him. He said, I want you to offer a prayer at my Christmas tree. So I went early. And when I got there, there must have been 15 or 20-- I don't remember the exact number-- young children of various ages, some of which I've seen around the town. And he had them sing Christmas carols, or they sang Christmas carols. And then he asked me to give a blessing. And when I did that, he distributed the gifts. Each person, each child received a gift with his name on it and a sack of candy nuts and an orange. When they left, he said, I'd like to tell you a story. And this is the story that he told me. When I was maybe three years old-- he said, I'm an Indian. I was born in Calcutta. I was playing on our street when I was kidnapped. And I grew up on a freighter. 16 years I lived on this freighter. And the only name I knew was the name by which the captain called me. When the freighter was just outside of the port of Galveston, Texas, the captain was dying. And he had me come to his bed-- to his couch, whatever it's called. 5 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu And he reached under the pillow and handed me an old envelope. And he asked me to open it and read it. And in the envelope, I saw the story of my life. Pitts Theology Library Emory University As he was dying, he asked me to forgive him, because his little boy who was two or three was very lonely on the ship as it went all over the world. And he wanted some little boy to play with his little boy. So he sent a sailor into the streets of Calcutta and said-- well, he didn't say "kidnap," but he used another word-- a boy about the age of my son so he'd have a companion. And that's my story. And the captain died in the port of Galveston. His wife sold the ship, or the boat-- "ship," I guess, it's called. And I was turned loose on the shore. I didn't ask him anything about immigration and those things. What you don't know doesn't-- well, I didn't ask him. He said, I had my bag or kit, or whatever the thing is that sailors have, with my stuff in it and a Bowie knife on my belt. And I walked into Galveston. I found myself at a railway station. And I saw, for the first time in my life, a private railway car. And I was walking around this car, just admiring it-- and I'd never seen anything like it-- when a man came down the steps to the car. And he said, are you looking for work? And I said, well, I suppose so. I'd just gotten off ship. And at any rate, he gave me a job. He was the vice president of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. And I lived in the basement of his nice home in Galveston for, oh, maybe 15, 16 years. My first Christmas in the United States-- a few days after Christmas-- I went into the backyard, and I saw a lot of little, ragged children quarreling over the gaudy things from a Christmas tree that had been thrown over the fence. And I had a vision. And that vision was that as long as I lived, every Christmas I would collect all the children who had no homes or no place, no Christmas, and bring them, and have a Christmas. So I spent weeks going around, getting names, and asking youngsters, what is it that you want-one thing that you can get for Christmas? What is it? And I made this list. Then I asked Mr. X if he would object to my having the Christmas tree down in the basement where I lived. And the children came. Each one received a package with these nuts, candy, and so forth, and so on. And I didn't know that the man for whom I worked was standing outside watching this. After that, he said every Christmas, as long as you're here, I want you to have this sort of thing up in the living room. When he was transferred to Cleveland some 15 years after and moved to Oberlin, he started doing the same thing. In the fall, he'd go all over town getting the names of children who were in 6 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu need and duplicating the whole thing. And he said that there are children here this morning whose parents were present at the first Christmas tree that I had in the community for the children. Pitts Theology Library Emory University That's the first story. I will not apply it because I would not have you miss the way you feel when you apply to yourself. That's your privilege and your secret. Now the second. The year was 1935. The time was two days before Christmas. And the setting is at the town of Darjeeling, way up 7,000 feet above sea level in North India, overlooking, well, whatever the state is. I've forgotten. Overlooking that place. [LAUGHTER] [? Some ?] [? men, ?] we were resting there. We'd been traveling and talking all over the place. And we were very tired. Some American friends that invited us to spend Christmas with them and to sleep in a good, comfortable bed and get some real coffee-- you know, real coffee-- well, yes. And we did. The day before Christmas, two of my young Indian friends-- students who were up there-invited me and the party to climb Tiger Hill to see sunrise on Kangchenjunga, the range just at the foothills of Everest. I readily agreed to do so. I committed Mrs. [? Thurman. ?] [LAUGHTER] And as soon as she got me alone, she'd uncommitted herself. [LAUGHTER] At 2 o'clock in the morning, these two young Indians knocked at my door. And I got up to join them. Now, it was a 2 and 1/2 mile climb up Tiger Hill, before you get to the spot where you could see this great view. I was grossly overweight. I had been working, talking three or four times a day, eating all of that magnificent food, low tea, high tea-- every kind of thing, because you needed food for energy, I told myself. And I couldn't exercise because you just couldn't walk around at night because you might disturb a cobra or something like that. So I was just getting fat. And I decided that I would have to see it. So I took my blanket and joined these two young fellows. And we started climbing. And I would go about 50 feet, maybe 50 yards. And then I'd spread my blanket out and lie-- [LAUGHS] [LAUGHTER] I'm sorry. I lie down to catch my breath. And I did, all the way up. Finally, I got to the top. It's very dark. And we went around a circular area and found ourselves on what seemed to be a pavilion. 7 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu There were no lights anywhere, just darkness all around. But I could sense the presence of other human beings. It's a throwback to our past, you see. You go in a room. And you don't know any human being is there. But if one is there, you sense it. Well, you know. Pitts Theology Library Emory University We waited. There was a feeling there must have been 25 or 30 people there. It began to build. No word was spoken. And then, a little finger-- just a whiff of pink appeared directly ahead of us in the darkness. And as soon as that happened, I heard cameras beginning to get ready. And in less than 30 seconds, the whole darkness disappeared, and the sun swept across those mountains of snow, making a [? burnished, ?] gold reception for the dawn. And presiding high above them all, in lonely grandeur, was Everest. And for 30 seconds, it lasted. And then it disappeared. The clouds came back. And I thought, one does not need to have the light as one's constant environment. One needs only to have just even a flash of light to announce that light is stronger than darkness. And if I can remember that, I will have no fear of the darkness, because I will know that light. This is the meaning of Christmas. That light is the enemy of the darkness. And the light does not have to shine all the time. Do you remember [? in ?] [INAUDIBLE] he says, so long the way I sought lay ahead, and then the darkness broke, and I saw the city. And the darkness came back again, but I had seen the city. And that view, no darkness can obscure. Now I think this is a word of Christmas. And one other comment. I would suggest to you, if you have time, and you are inclined to do so, one of the glorious bits of reading for yourselves during the holidays is just the little section in The Brothers Karamazov about the grand inquisitor-- just that section. For light is identified there with freedom. And Dostoyevsky raises the critical question, what will a man give in exchange for his freedom-freedom to be responsible for me? And we spend our lives trying to find somebody to take us off of our own hands. [LAUGHTER] Take me off of my hands, if I can give that up so I will not be responsible for my food, for everything. If you will take that, I will give you my most precious possession. And that is dominion over my own freedom. And we exchange it for bread. We exchange it for [INAUDIBLE]. 8 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Religious & National Holidays Description An account of the resource Various sermons, meditations, and readings related to holidays and national holidays. AudioWithTranscription Audio that is shown through the 3Play Media embedded interactive transcript Audio with Transcription <iframe width="100%" height="820" frameborder="0" src="/files/players/394-725_A.html" ></iframe> Location The location of the interview, speech, lecture, or sermon Fellowship Church, San Francisco, California Internal Notes Notes for project team Edited - GL 7/18 Original Title Title as transcribed from tape cassette The Mood of Christmas (meditation-sermon) (Fellowship Church; Christmas), 1978 Dec 24 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 394-725_A Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Thurman, Howard Title A name given to the resource The Mood of Christmas, 1978 December 24 Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a href="http://pid.emory.edu/ark:/25593/rp8k9">MSS 394</a> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available <a href="http://pitts.emory.edu/">Pitts Theology Library, Emory University</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant GEOMETRYCOLLECTION(POINT(-13627798.925371 4550756.1096806)) Description An account of the resource Thurman begins by comparing Hanukkah and Christmas. They are both crucial moments that “gather into themselves the essence of all striving and the meaning of all hope.” Hanukkah remembers “preservation of the eternal light.” Christmas “announces . . . a light that lightest every man that cometh into the world.” He then shares two touching Christmas stories. The first of a man who celebrated Christmas with his towns impoverished children. The second of Thurman viewing the sunrise over Mt. Everest. He concludes by sharing the meaning of Christmas, “light is the enemy of the darkness. And the light does not have to shine all the time.” Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Description by Erik Mattson Christmas Hanukkah light https://thurman.pitts.emory.edu/files/original/e7b7b85a58f90cb750f8f7f033cf4520.pdf a408325db8d19e9500d8e307c28730c6 PDF Text Text Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu 394-582_A.mp3 Pitts Theology Library Emory University Without pride and arrogance, we present ourselves before thee, our Father, searching our minds and our hearts under the steady radiance of thy presence with the hope and prayer that we shall be inspired this hour to worship thee in spirit and in truth. Amen. Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth or even thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. Thou turnest man to destruction and sayest, return ye children of man, for 1,000 years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past and as a watch in the night. Thou carry-est thy away as with the flood, they are as the sleep. In the morning, they're like grass which groweth up. In the morning, it flourisheth and groweth up. In the evening, it is cut down and withereth. For we are consumed by thy anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled. Thou hast set our iniquities before thee our secret sins in the light of thy countenance. For all our days are past away in thy wrath. We spend our years as a tail that is told. The days of our years are three score years and 10. And if by reason of strength, they be four square years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow, for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. Who knoweth the power of thine anger? Even according to thy fear so is thy wrath. So teach us to remember our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. Return oh, Lord, how long and let it repent thee concerning thy servants. Oh, satisfy us early with thy mercy that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Make us glad according to the days wherein thou has afflicted us and the years wherein we have seen evil. Let thy work appear unto thy servants and thy glory unto their children and let the beauty of the lord our god be upon us and establish thou the work of our hands upon us. Yes, the work of our hands, establish thou it. [MUSIC - CHOIR] As a background for our thinking together, I'm reading three paragraphs from Oswald McCall's The Hand of God. "Nevertheless, I thank thee Lord for nests. I thank thee Lord for our places of sweet comfort and security without which as nest-less birds out of their shells, but not yet into their feathers we should have perished." "I thank thee for the fences and seclusions, for nooks where there is peace and harbors where the wind does not come. I thank thee for protecting arms and for protecting minds that have wrought for us and fought for us and planned and made provision. I thank thee that we have not always had to shape decisions for ourselves, that some have risen to shield us from the fierce brunt, that if the outer worlds is cruel, we have been saved from knowing it." "That for us, so much kindly velvet has made hard places soft. I thee Lord for nests, for our brave, resistant ramparts, and our gentle downy ease. Many tender and young things in us could 1 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu never have waxed and grown, but would have died like buds in a frost if they had had no shelter." Pitts Theology Library Emory University "Many good and beautiful things in us had there been pitched untimely into the world would have drowned like puppies thrown into deep water. In a world where sooner our later we must meet treachery, selfishness, and exploitation. I thank thee for years of incubation, nursing, and defending during which the good in us was nourished and confirmed. For a home that cared enough to keep doors shut." "For faith that had better air to breathe than cynicism and denial. For postponements of strokes that might have come too soon or walls against blasts that babes could not endure. For fairer ignorances, rose pink illusions, star-eyed hope, and peace and joy. Yes, for nests, I thank thee Lord." For the thoughtful person, any attitude towards life that insists that because life is sacred, one must deal reverently and sacredly with every manifestation of life find that there is for him a problem that is insoluble. Life lives on life. Any universal ethic must find itself somehow tested and perhaps even shattered on the rock of that stubborn fact. Life lives on life. Life consumes life, and it would be true that all life is one, then it follows that life lives by consuming itself. And perhaps that is why in life never dies, because it constantly consumes itself. Well, how can it be compassionate then? Let us give thanks because our lives are not our own lives. I think sometimes men and women and children, families say their grace at mealtime, not because they're grateful, perhaps, but because they are about to participate in an act of consumption of that which at one time was living. The bacon that you had for breakfast this morning at one time was a wonderful hog, enjoying himself, grunting his thanks to God because it was such a good world for a hog. And then without any option on his part, without any choice, he was taken from his home, carried to some other place, and he felt the heavy deadly thud of the powerful but blunt instrument. And his life was yielded for me, for you. Who am I that I should demand that the hog who enjoyed life at the level of the hog should give up his life that I might eat. Who am I? What makes me rate that? Unless there is inherent in the movement of my life out to a [INAUDIBLE] of life, unless there is inherent in the dimension of responsibility of which I am aware in the living of my life, I have no right to make that demand of him. So when we break bread, we bow our heads as a reverential salutation to all the living things that died that we might live. And therefore, my life is not my own life. And in the living my life, I must not only fulfill the dreams and the hopes, the desires and perhaps the ambitions that are privately my own that represent the consuming, personal passion of my life. 2 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu But I must live every day a life of atonement for all the living things that I have consumed to keep my own life going. Life lives by consuming itself, and perhaps that is why life never dies. So I give thanks to all the life that has been dying through all the years that I might not die. Pitts Theology Library Emory University The thoughts, the things that go into the [INAUDIBLE] of my own life, are so numerous that I can never recall the simplest idea of my own. I remember reading some years ago a poem in the Christian century written by a mother who prayed to God that she might not live to see the time when her daughter discovered that the daughter's radical thoughts were old thoughts to her mother. [INAUDIBLE]. When we say that this is my idea, what do we mean? When we say, this is my thought, this is my concept, what do you mean? Do you mean that we created it, or do we mean that we have surrounded meanings that were in existence long before we started with a little rim of our individuality and our privacy and placed over that the label of our little minds? What every word I use is a word that through hundreds of level-footed centuries men, women here a little, there a little, pulled out of all the sounds in the world around them, certain sounds and caught them and the held those sounds as prisoners until the sounds themselves became symbolic of ideas, of meanings, of notions, of experiences and passed them on to others so that when I use a word, I affirm, not only my solidarity with all of the conscious processes of men through all the generations, but I also affirm my indebtedness. And therefore, I should never use words recklessly, carelessly, but should use them with overwhelming reverence. Because into the making of the word, which is the common tool of mine now, has gone the dreaming and sometimes the agonizing and the pain of countless generations of human beings. A word is never mine alone. The feelings that I have seem to me to be very private and very intimate and very personal. And in a sense, they are, but all of my feelings come out of some vast feeling continuum, some vat of [? firmament ?] of throbbing long before there was human speech. And when my feelings though personal, private, and intimate, become deep, what happens to me? I become speechless. I drop back into this vast feeling continuum, and affirm my solidarity with all of the grayed emotions, feeling [INAUDIBLE], the ebb and flow of all the passionate outreach of the human spirit through all the years. Therefore, I shall not feign feelings. I shall not pretend feelings. I shall let my feelings be authentic, valid, genuine, lest in my feeling tones, I betray all those who went before me. I give thanks for my private feelings, and in that thanks, I affirm my gratitude for all the continual feelings out of which they come. My life is not my own life, not only because of all the life that has gone into the making of mine, not only because of all the experiences of one kind or another that have gone into the making of my life. But my life is not my own because I am a part of God. Because I am a temporary trustee of the very life of God. 3 �Pitts Theology Library The Howard Thurman Digital Archive Transcription thurman.pitts.emory.edu And I wonder, I wonder how I can live so as to make him glad that he trusted me with a part of himself. This fumbling, stumbling, often blind, stubborn life of mine, what could he have seen in me? What? I wonder is he sorry. I wonder. Do you? Pitts Theology Library Emory University Take our lives our stumbling, inadequate lives, and true them by my thy will and thy dream, oh, God without whose love we could not possibly abide to the end that tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow though mayest find cause for rejoicing in us. May thy peace then, that passeth all human understanding and the sensitiveness to thy spirit that was in Jesus be in us this day and forever and forever. Amen. [MUSIC - CHOIR] (SINGING) A-men. A-men. A-men. 4 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Religious & National Holidays Description An account of the resource Various sermons, meditations, and readings related to holidays and national holidays. AudioWithTranscription Audio that is shown through the 3Play Media embedded interactive transcript Audio with Transcription <iframe width="100%" height="820" frameborder="0" src="/files/players/394-582_A.html" ></iframe> Location The location of the interview, speech, lecture, or sermon Marsh Chapel, Boston University, Boston, Massachussetts Internal Notes Notes for project team Edited - GL 7/4 Time Period The decade in which the recording was produced. 1950s Original Title Title as transcribed from tape cassette A Thanksgiving Service (Fellowship Church or Marsh Chapel), 1953 Nov 22 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 394-582_A Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Thurman, Howard Title A name given to the resource A Thanksgiving Service: Let Us Give Thanks, 1953 November 22 Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived <a href="http://pid.emory.edu/ark:/25593/rp8k9">MSS 394</a> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource audio Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available <a href="http://pitts.emory.edu/">Pitts Theology Library, Emory University</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1953-11-22 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/"><img style="border-width:0;" src="https://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc/4.0/80x15.png" alt="80x15.png" /></a><br />This work is licensed under a <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License</a>. 2019. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant GEOMETRYCOLLECTION(POINT(-13627798.925371 4550756.1096806)) Description An account of the resource In this Thanksgiving sermon, Thurman reads from Oswald McCall's The Hand of God, followed by discussions of what it means to be thankful for all the lives that sustain our own lives. He also explores the "vast feeling continuum" from which all our feelings flow and how we should be faithful in our feelings and words, for our lives are not our own.