Our Father, give us this day a thankful heart

Father, excuse me if my hands are sticky with dough for tomorrow’s feast, but I’m having company for dinner tomorrow and there’s so much to do.

If I waited until I had a moment to kneel in a quiet room to pray, I’m afraid it wouldn’t happen very often. Thanks for hearing me even though I’m not very presentable.

“Thanks.” I’ve been thinking about “thanks.” Why do we human parents teach our children to say, “Please,” and, “Thank you”? We wouldn’t withhold food and comfort if our little ones forgot to utter those magic words.

What’s in it for us? Would we add a penny to our treasure or a minute to our life span by hearing those we love give us credit for the gifts we give them?

Of course not. It is for their own well-being that we seek to instill gratitude in our children.

As they grow in years and understanding, the habit of saying, “Thank you,” nourishes them and reminds them of their own interdependence with the rest of the human family.

Nor do you, almighty God, maker of worlds and owner of the universe, nor do you need our thanks. We cannot add or take away from you; what matters our thanks to you?

When you walked on earth among us, you gave us a pattern by which to pray. I’ve thought about that a lot.

We tend to say those words, “Our Father, who art in heaven,” every Sunday and any time in between that a prayer seems appropriate and we don’t trust ourselves to find just the right words.

But in the Gospel that Matthew wrote, you instruct us not to pile on adjectives, coating our wishes with flattery. It’s pretty clear that this is a model prayer, given to us that we should pray in this manner, though perhaps not necessarily in these words.

Yet nowhere does this model prayer say, “Thank you,” to the source of our life and being. Nowhere are we reminded to say those magic words we admonish our children to say a dozen times a day.

In fact, we are instructed that you know what we need before we ask it, and that we should pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.”

And in the same breath we ask you to excuse us from any debt to you in the same measure we forgive what is owed to us.

Is this to mean we may ask without saying “please,” and accept gifts from you without giving thanks?

I can’t imagine, my Father, even coming into your presence, daring to call you by a family term, “Father,” without thanking you for the privilege.

So I have to believe there is something more important to you than our little thank yous. I have to believe you want us to acknowledge, every time we say, “Give us this day our daily bread,” that we are totally dependent on you.

And that, like the Hebrews in the wilderness, we should ask only for what we need today. When they tried to plan ahead and stockpile manna, it spoiled. They learned the hard way to trust you for each day’s provisions.

Equally important, I believe I am to think not just of myself alone but of all my earthly family. “Our Father,” not “my father.” “Give us,” not “give me.” “Deliver us” from evil, not just me.

What is the bread you would have me ask for myself and my sisters and brothers this day?

I’m sure you mean all the blessings of the bountiful earth. Give us this day our annual feast, with its teasing aroma filling the house with the promise of good things to come.

Give us this day pumpkin pie and cranberry relish and love around a table laid with china and sterling, for the gathering of loved ones.

But there, you see, Father? Already I have moved to a list of wants, not needs.

There are real needs among the children of God. For many of my brothers and sisters, there are much more basic needs than my petty wants. On their behalf, I pray:

Give us this day relief from pain and disappointment.

Give us this day deliverance from addiction.

Give us this day patience with those we should love best.

Give us this day courage to face an uncertain future.

Give us this day our chemotherapy.

Give us this day safe travel and quiet rest.

Give us this day healing for a broken heart.

You don’t need our thanks, great God of giving and forgiving. Our Thanksgiving is not for you.

It’s for us.

Give us this day a grateful heart.