Tag: Thanksgiving

Thanking the Pandemic Preachers

by Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell

In many recovery communities, you hear the phrase “walk the talk,” illuminating the importance of impersonating, rather than pontificating, the guts of the ethical backbone of the program.  In religious circles, the same message is expressed: “Preach the Gospel always.  Use words only when necessary.” 

In my day-to-day life, there have been many profound preachers during the seemingly endless months of COVID isolation. 

Colleen is the woman at Fry’s who stands on her feet for hours on the unforgiving concrete floors to carefully check out our groceries. She never complains when I ask for paper bags, even though it requires her to bend over to fetch them. Colleen is well beyond retirement age and yet continues to be of essential service providing food to the huddled masses, embodying the words, “whoever comes to me will not be hungry.” 

A beloved friend goes to a Veterans Lodge where dead deer heads peer blankly from the walls, and she quietly donates blood. She doesn’t have a good word to say about organized religion, but faithfully shows up at the neighborhood Presbyterian Church Tuesdays at ten to silently sort through giant bags of donated clothes that will end up on the backs of frightened refugees stuck at the border.  Maybe she somehow heard the communion words of blood being shed and bodies being clothed. She doesn’t say. She just shows up. 

Every morning at 5 a.m. someone flings my newspaper to various locations on my driveway and in my plants. During the isolation of the pandemic, the paper became my morning coffee companion. Oddly, I especially enjoy reading the obituaries, because I like to see what brought joy to the life of the dearly departed. Behold, an angel has been sent before me, and she is flinging the news. 

The Post Office stayed open during the pandemic, and countless carriers delivered the mail. Sometimes there were cards and letters delivered that offered a sense of connection, encouragement, or support. On Fridays, my postal delivery people allow me to sneak under their chained barrier while they are still stuffing boxes, because they know I am eager to retrieve my People magazine. These faithful workers are kin to the Biblical bearers of glad tidings. 

COVID has been a long haul at my hospital. I observe the Starbucks stand where weary parents, paper-gowned medical staff and observant security staff line up to order the outrageously over-priced weirdly named drinks. Throughout COVID, underpaid staff kept this place of rare delight open, offering a small diversion from the intensity of illness and death. They are the magi offering their gifts. 

At this time of Thanksgiving, let us lift up these silent preachers who are walking the daily walk. Let us proclaim our gratitude to them for the contribution they make to our lives. A simple “thank you” can mean so much, and its absence can leave a wound. 

THANK YOU TO ALL OF THOSE WHO SILENTLY AND FAITHFULLY PROCLAIM THAT, EVEN IN THE MIDST OF A PANDEMIC, THERE IS GOOD NEWS.  PLEASE ACCEPT OUR HEARTFELT GRATITUDE. THANK YOU. 

Grace…It’s for More than Just Dinnertime

by Carol Reynolds, Pastor, Scottsdale Congregational UCC

Grace, it strikes me, is one of those “squishy” words that’s hard to put your finger on, seemingly impossible to define, save for the prayers of gratitude and blessing we say before digging into our meals. It’s a theological concept, but it’s more than that. It’s a characteristic of God that we aspire to, some of us more successfully than others; but it’s even more than that! When we add a “ful” to the end of it, I begin to picture something more concrete and outwardly beautiful—a ballerina, a horse, someone with really good posture who treads lightly upon the earth, etc.

I felt vindicated when I went to look grace up in my Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms the other day. Beyond the “generic” version, which spoke briefly of kindness and unmerited favor, there were fully SIXTEEN types of grace listed and defined!!

actual grace
cheap grace
common grace
cooperating grace
efficacious grace
free grace
glorifying grace
habitual grace
irresistible grace
justifying grace
prevenient grace
sanctifying grace
saving grace
special grace
sufficient grace
universal grace

That’s a whole lot of grace! It reminds me of the fact that the Inuit have 40+ ways to refer to snow, which is pretty modest compared to the Sami of northern Russia and Scandinavia, whom I just learned have 180 words related to snow and ice and as many as 1000 for reindeer![1]

Obviously, to require that extensive a vocabulary for a single concept, it’s got to be something with which people have had A LOT of experience, to which they’ve given a lot of thought, and about which they care a great deal. As far as grace goes, suffice it to say that, in life, we experience a lot of it, which manifests in a host of specific ways. Which must also mean that we need a lot of grace in our lives.Perhaps never has this been truer than today, in the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic that has been our reality for over 10 months now. In many ways we’ve adapted thanks to the high tech means of communications available to us in 2020. We’ve got our weekly worship services, we’ve got our regularly scheduled check-ins with friends and family, we’ve got our shipments of essentials from Amazon and Chewy.com to keep trips to stores to a minimum. And yet…

There are many silver linings to the isolation we’ve had to impose upon ourselves to stay safe; yet loneliness and boredom are unavoidable, nevertheless. In many respects, we’re living out Bill Murray’s iconic Groundhog Day film, waking up to the same day over and over and over again. Sometimes I’m surprised there’s anything at all left to talk about with others!

One thing that does change regularly is the number of people contracting and dying from the virus. Lately they’ve gotten so high that I daresay they defy the 21st Century human imagination. Thank God PBS Newshour makes a point each Friday of sharing the stories of several of the latest victims, giving them human faces and touching, inspirational life stories, lest we come to think of these 250,000+ souls as little more than numbers on a screen.The thing is, no matter if and whether the astronomical numbers cease to outwardly shock us, they’re quietly taking their toll on each of us within, particularly as they land closer and closer to home. Whether we want to admit it or not, what we are experiencing, what the ENTIRE WORLD is experiencing right now is trauma. Trying to absorb and conceive of death on this scale, trying to protect ourselves from a threat that is at once invisible and mysterious, aggressive and hard to pin down for long, this is terrifying stuff, the stuff of horror movies and aspects of medieval European history we’d just as soon forget.

I say all of this not to deeply frighten or depress you, but to help us understand where we’re all coming from these days and to help us to offer our selves and one another that much cherished aspect of God’s character…GRACE. Perhaps never has it been more needed, as together, the whole world, finds itself in the throes of PTSD. Some of us are already quite familiar with this phenomenon in our lives, others not so much. It can manifest in a whole host of ways, but I’d like to highlight a few that I’ve been experiencing in myself and others in recent weeks. Perhaps the most prevalent one is what I like to call “COVID brain,” which can look like an abnormally high level of fuzziness and forgetfulness, slower rates of thinking, tracking, and processing information or communications, difficulty finding words or articulating ideas, etc. it can also look like heightened fears or anxieties, impatience, irritability, frustration, or general crabbiness. In extreme cases, it may have physical effects, perhaps even re-igniting pain from old, physically traumatic injuries.          

This year Thanksgiving comes to us at the exact right time, for thankfulness, gratitude, these are wonderful antidotes to so many of the things we’re experiencing. But the grace part, especially, is what our souls crave and, indeed, need, right now. Both grace for ourselves to receive and grace to give to others. Having said that grace is such a “squishy” word, what does that mean, exactly? It means striving to create a sense of spaciousness in our lives and in our interactions. It means giving ourselves and one another the benefit of the doubt, rather than rushing to criticize or blame or assume the worst of intentions on the other person’s part. It means asking what someone meant before accepting the story we’ve already crafted in our own minds as the truth and accusing them accordingly. It’s defaulting to compassion instead of blame and approaching all things from the realization that none of us is fully able to be our best selves right now, as much as we’d like to be; that, whether or not we’re willing to admit it, we’re all a tad sluggish and confused, cranky and scared; that 2020 hasn’t been kind to any of us.

So let’s not leave grace at the Thanksgiving dinner table this year. Let’s spread it near and wide, like the Christmas cards of old, like the holiday cheer we wish we could invoke in person but will still have plenty of opportunities to conjure up in our many virtual spaces.

The Advent season we’re about to enter is all about waiting. Waiting for the much anticipated birth of a precious baby and so much more, of the manifestation of God’s dream of joy and abundance, peace and justice for ALL people and indeed for ALL of creation. Never have we known more about waiting, whether for Promised Lands or for simple human touch. God is with us. God understands our pain and yearning. And God’s grace covers every single thing we’ve said or done and regretted throughout our lives. But especially during this deeply trying time in human and natural history. God will gladly share that grace—abundantly–with each one of us. All we need to do is ask and set the intention for ourselves.Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.

May God’s grace, peace, and love be with each one of you and with all living things. Amen.

[1] https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/there-really-are-50-eskimo-words-for-snow/2013/01/14/e0e3f4e0-59a0-11e2-beee-6e38f5215402_story.html

A Thanksgiving mini-miracle at Oro Valley UCC

guest post by Janet Delgado, office manager at Oro Valley UCC

written the morning of Thanksgiving Day, Thursday, November 28, 2019

I just put my potato casserole in the oven. It needs to be ready this afternoon when I carry it across town to spend the rest of the day with good friends. While it’s baking, I want to take a minute to say, “Happy Thanksgiving” to all of you. Working as the Office Manager at Oro Valley United Church of Christ is a blessing for me as I witness your kindness on a regular basis.

Around 10:00 on Tuesday morning I received a phone call from a lovely OVUCC member-couple.  They asked if I knew of anyone that might be alone, and thus eating alone, on Thanksgiving Day.  If I heard of someone, they hoped to invite that person, whoever it might be, to join them at their table to share a traditional turkey dinner.

A short time later, about noon on Tuesday, I had a call from another caring member.  She was concerned about a church member she knew that would be alone on Thursday and hoped to find company for them. I told her I would see what could be arranged and let her know. 

The get-together was arranged.  From two simple phone calls to the church office, I believe a “mini-miracle” happened.  There was a need and God brought good people together that met that need.

My casserole smells good as it’s baking and makes my little house feel cozy. Particularly on this day, it reminds me how fortunate I am not to suffer hunger and to have shelter.  However, as I now live alone and am aging, I am reminded that I could suffer “aloneness.” Thanks to the good people that I am surrounded by, and with God’s intervention and guidance, I know that won’t happen at OVUCC—no aloneness here!    

Later today I will sit at a table with another OVUCC member-couple and their friends. I was invited, along with another single lady, to join them for their lovingly prepared thanksgiving meal.  As we go around the table and recite what we are thankful for, my prayer will be, “Thank you God for the people at this table, thank You for my far-away family, thank You for letting me regularly see the kindness of my fellow church members, and thank You for letting me witness Your mini-miracles that happen so often at Oro Valley United Church of Christ.  Amen.”     

Have a lovely Thanksgiving Day,

Warmly, Janet Delgado

Giving Thanks in the Midst of Turmoil

by Abigail Conley

Having lived in a few different iterations of church, my song knowledge is skewed. The older hymns considered essential by many WASPs elude me; a slice of time in evangelical praise songs are well known. One of those songs remains a favorite, “Blessed Be Your Name.” The first version seems to be released by Matt Redman. These are the opening lyrics:

Blessed be your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where the streams of abundance flow
Blessed be your name

And blessed be your name
When I’m found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name

The song continues, going back and forth between the good and the bad, still claiming, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” It is a beautiful, ongoing confession that God remains present, even attentive in the worst times.

This week, I received an end of the year email from my accountant. Normally, they provide end of year tax reminders and advice. This year, the email was a professional version of, “We have no idea what’s going to happen.” Choose something and we can have much the same conversation.

It is our strange calling to still proclaim and trust in God’s goodness. We are not alone. God’s people did this through the destruction of temples, through exile, through persecution. God’s people trusted in God’s faithfulness through plague, famine, and war. With this cloud of witnesses, we still give thanks.

And so I give thanks.

I give thanks for the 7-year-old who invited me to her school’s Thanksgiving program. Unprompted by parents, I received thanks and hugs afterward.

I give thanks for the teacher who skillfully taught kids, more than a hundred second graders, songs like “Tommy, the Thanksgiving Turkey.” It’s sung to the tune of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” if you’re wondering. The ones with speaking parts excitedly came to the microphone, too.

I give thanks for the woman who said, “If they need socks and underwear, they should get socks and underwear. It shouldn’t count as a present,” as we went over the wish list of the family our church sponsoring.

I give thanks for the people checking in with the elderly, the recently moved, the single adults, making sure they have a place to eat Thanksgiving dinner.

I give thanks for the people who say, “Yes,” against all odds.

I give thanks, because it is Thanksgiving. The holiday is secular, but for people of faith, the call is holy.

Because even as the turmoil threatens to turn to chaos, still we say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

For the Lord will surely be faithful.  

Making Peace With Thanksgiving

by Rev. Dr. William M. Lyons

There is nothing sinful about gathering as a family or with friends to eat a meal steeped in tradition and memories. God isn’t against football. Remember that there are people in the world who don’t have life as good as we do, and to do something nice for them, seems like a pretty good idea – dare I even say religious. Why, then, did I feel so guilty every fourth Thursday in November?

As a child I felt suspicious of the Pilgrims. There was something fundamentally unfair about strangers arriving in a new land and taking it away from the people who lived there first. A teacher’s, “Well, we’re here now so don’t worry about it,” only confirmed I was on to something. As much as I liked the day with my family, I knew families who wouldn’t be together because of the war (Viet Nam back then). When we got back to school I could tell from their silence when the rest of us compared pie counts and turkey sizes, I had friends who couldn’t have the feast my family enjoyed.

Growing up taught me a new word for my uneasiness: privilege. It didn’t help. Nor did it help to discover that the only truth in the first Thanksgiving story was that there were Pilgrims, there were Indians, and there was a celebration.  As far as we know the Wampanoag and the Pilgrims never repeated their celebration. No one much thought about what happened that autumn in 1621 for 200 years. The details most of us learned in elementary school about what our teachers called ‘the first Thanksgiving’ were little more than the creation of Jane G. Austin in her 1889 historical novel Standish of Standish. Thanksgiving observances and rituals had been part of American Indian culture for thousands of years. Spanish colonists held a thanksgiving mass in St. Augustine, FL in 1565, and celebrated thanksgiving with Manso Indians near present day El Paso TX in 1598. French Huguenots observed a thanksgiving celebration in 1564 in what is now Jacksonville FL. English colonists had celebrated thanksgiving in New England in 1607, 1610, and 1619.  

While the story of the Pilgrim’s Thanksgiving has remained relatively consistent since then, the roles of the Pilgrims and the Indians have been re-written time and again to reflect the crisis or the mood or the prejudices of the country. The Indians were hardly mentioned during the western expansion. The Pilgrims of World War 2 were hardy war-winners whose victory came from God. According to Look Magazine, the Pilgrims of the 1960s were “dissidents” and “commune builders.” How is a someone supposed to make peace with a holiday that seems always to be reinventing itself? And when I discovered that the Wampanoag people today observe a day of mourning on the day we celebrate Thanksgiving because of the pain they experienced at the hands of the doctrine of discovery, well… I needed to make peace with this holiday!  

From the doctrine of the trinity to debates about the jurisdiction of the church in matters of marriage, Puritans held deep convictions about how to practice their faith, convictions out of step with the Church of England. In any religious movement there are always zealots. Puritan zealots were called Separatists. For them there was no compromise, and no value to reform-from-within. When the Scrooby Puritan Separatist congregation emigrated illegally to the Netherlands they thought religious freedom would complete their sense of well-being. But the society that afforded them freedom of religious expression also afforded others that same freedom. They worried about the moral influences of what they considered a corrupt and permissive culture. The Scrooby congregants were not skilled in ways that permitted them to participate successfully in their new economy. Poverty and deep concerns about providing for themselves in their old age took center stage. 37 of them, along with 65 adventurers recruited by the voyage’s financiers, decided to pursue a what they hoped would be a better life in the new world.

Those passengers and crew were unprepared to endure the winter of 1620 aboard a ship anchored in Provincetown Harbor. By harvest 1621, half of the passengers had died, including 14 of the 18 married women. Of the 53 passengers remaining nearly half were children and teens, and the adults were mostly widowers, only 3 of whom were over age 40.

That anyone survived was due to the intervention of the Wampanoag people, specifically a Patuxet named Tisquantum. After a 14-year odyssey as a slave, a story worthy of its own telling, Tisquantum returned to his homeland only to find his people had fallen victim to a plague, the origin of which was most likely European traders. Evidence proves Tisquantum’s duplicity when dealing with Wampanoag and Pilgrims alike, but motives aside, he attended to the well-being of the Plimoth (the Pilgrim’s spelling) colonists.

Thanksgivings in Puritan tradition were solemn religious occasions. This is the only paragraph – 112 words – that we have from eyewitnesses:

Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a more special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruit of our labors. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed on our governor, and upon the captain and others.

In today’s terms what the participants recorded about that event some 400 years ago reads more like what historian Robert Tracy McKenzie calls a week of “beer and barbecue, shooting and sports.” There turned out to be twice as many Indians as many as there were Pilgrims. Nothing like a good time to attract the neighbors! The scene reads like the typical human response to prolonged pain. Enough already – let’s party! After everything they had been through the survivors seem to have needed something to celebrate. And so they made the most of the legitimate reasons at hand to feel relief and gladness and gratitude, and to lay aside the concerns of the day at least for awhile. They needed to recover their sense of well-being.

The real story of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag is a story about the human quest for well-being. Christians have a word for that. The word is peace. We also have a word for how far people are willing to go to secure the welfare of others. Jesus called that peacemaking.

I have finally made my peace with Thanksgiving. No more trying to force a secular peg into a religious hole. The one-day observance we call Thanksgiving will be forever a secular holiday for me. No more outrage in God’s name about retailers opening at midnight Thursday; I choose to express my outrage in the name of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Jackson, and others! Even in a secular world families’ well-being trumps corporate profits or personal savings.

My faith, like that of the Pilgrims, teaches me that gratitude is not a holiday to be celebrated but a discipline to be practiced each day at all times in every circumstance.

My faith teaches me to say I am sorry for wrongs done against others even when my ancestors did them, especially if it leads to reconciliation with others. Thanksgiving for me will forever be a day I stand in solidarity with the Indigenous People of this land as they mourn what they’ve lost, what my ancestors stole from them.

My faith teaches me that more important than the thanks I offer to God for my blessings is the thanks that someone else will offer to God because I have used my life to attend to, advocate for, and in any way I can, supply them with a greater sense of well-being.  If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, 16　and one of you says to them [even on Thanksgiving], “Go in peace [or Happy Thanksgiving]; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? “You will be enriched in every way for your great generosity, which will produce thanksgiving to God through us; 12　for the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God.” (2 Cor 9:11)　

In Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote “a false but clear and precise idea always has more power in the world than one which is true but complex.”  Oh how that lesson has played out these past few weeks. While Thanksgiving is the occasion that brings us together, we have a more urgent need. Tonight there are people in our world who are not living in peace. So tonight I ask you to embrace a more complex celebration of Thanksgiving, one in which you strive to put words of gratitude on the lips of someone else by improving their personal well-being. In these frightening and uncertain times people are looking what our brand of Christianity is offering. We are the purveyors of well-being – hope, safety, sanctuary, meaning, dignity and love.  Let us join one another on the narrow path that is peacemaking.  Amen.

Are we Still the “Land of the Pilgrim’s Pride”?

by Ken McIntosh

I remember when I was a child and Thanksgiving was all about the Pilgrims. At school we watched “Mouse on the Mayflower” and grainy film reels with the Mayflower II sailing past Plymouth Rock. We made conical Pilgrim hats out of different colors of construction paper and big yellow paper buckles that went on our shoes. At home, Mom always made a ceremony of setting out a large wax sculpture Pilgrim couple—the centerpiece of our table.

Now it seems that Thanksgiving weekend is all about ‘Black Friday’ morning sales and college football. Pilgrims? The Mayflower? Meh…not so much (the exception this year being a pair of revisionist histories on TV).

On previous Thanksgivings I’ve thought that the eclipse of the Plymouth Plantation myth was probably good and merited. For Native people, it was another step toward the end of their relationship with the land. Already wracked by European disease, the treaty that Chief Massasoit made with the Pilgrims ended in the time of that chief’s son Philip; the ‘King Philip’s War’ resulted in over 5,000 deaths, and three-quarters of the slain were Natives.

A decade ago I had a strange experience while visiting Plymouth Plantation. Part of that historical recreation is a Native village staffed by Wampanoag tribespeople who dress in 17th century attire. A visitor to the village addressed one of the Native interpreters and said “You look like just like real Indians.” The man replied, with admirable lack of irritation in his voice “I am a member of the Wampanoag tribe, the original people of this land, who met with the European settlers.” And the tourist said, “Oh, I get it. You’re acting like a real Indian.” The Native interpreter continued to educate the man in a polite manner, but the whole exchange was painful to watch.

More recently, in Flagstaff, my wife was away for the Thanksgiving Holiday and I had to stay for a church function, so a Navajo friend invited me to his sister’s house for turkey dinner. I was the only white person at a large gathering of my host’s extended family, and thus the butt end of good-natured white-people jokes. The irony of it all was not lost on me.

So, considering the sad history of my ancestors’ conquest of this country, celebrating Pilgrim pride didn’t seem like such a brilliant idea. At the same time, it was hard to escape the influence of the Pilgrims once I became the pastor of a Congregational church. Of the 102 settlers who came from Holland on the Mayflower, 35 were members of the Puritan Separatist Church. They fled England where the State Church forbade their manner of worship for refuge in Holland where there was broad religious toleration. Fearing that they would lose their cultural ways, they then chose the risk-filled voyage to New England, a region chosen because they mistakenly believed it to be uninhabited.

Perhaps the most abiding aspect of Pilgrim heritage in the UCC today is part of Pastor John Robinson’s farewell message of 1620, in which he said “if God should reveal anything to you by any other instrument of his, be as ready to receive it as ever you were to receive any truth by my ministry; for I am very confident the Lord has more truth and light yet to break forth out of his holy word.” He clarified by lamenting that Lutherans proscribed their beliefs to the writings of Luther and Calvinists to the writings of Calvin. Today, the UCC is characterized by the phrase “God is still speaking.”

This year, however, I’ve decide that I do want to re-appropriate the Pilgrim story. It has abiding value—or at least value for 2015 and the foreseeable future. I say this for two reasons. First, the story of the Pilgrims and First Nations people of that land cooperating for their mutual benefit is a true one—albeit short-lived. The Wampanoags showed Europeans how to grow crops and survive; Europeans in turn brought crops and technology that was helpful for the Natives.

That peace was short-lived. I think of it like the 1914 Christmas truce in the trenches of WWI. We know that was followed by the hells of Verdun and poison gas attacks, but at least for a brief time it happened and we can still be inspired by that glimmer of peace. Likewise, we have the example of the daring risk that this Native community took by welcoming strange and dubious-seeming people, and trying to seek a future of mutual benefit. At a time when America seems to be growing more xenophobic, this beginning attempt at mutual trust may still serve as a positive example. Their betrayal by our race can also be an abiding cautionary lesson.

But there’s another ‘Pilgrim lesson’ that I had drummed in during grade school, and I think that is the most important lesson of the Mayflower journey for America today. Countless schoolchildren were taught during the 1960s, ‘The Pilgrims came to these shores seeking religious freedom, and that is why we continue to value everyone’s religious freedom.’ That story can be historically critiqued—it may be that the Mayflower Separatists only valued Christian religious freedom, and we know that the Puritan groups who came in succeeding waves were intolerant of religious dissenters in their own ranks. Yet the elementary school lesson was as clear as it was succinct: our ancestors came here because they wanted to worship freely, and we should pass that privilege on to others.

So when, a few years later, I saw a group of men installing our neighbors’ swimming pool, and they all stopped their work at the same time and bowed down on mats and prayed, I was not shy to approach them afterward and ask “Why did you do that?” And when they told me they were Muslims and they prayed toward Mecca five times a day, I said “Neat!” Up to that point my experience of religious diversity was Methodists, Lutherans, Unitarians…and one Jew. But I was happy to see a new kind of religion in my town…part of an unfolding story of religious freedom that defined us as Americans.

I have to wonder; all these people wanting to refuse new neighbors because they came from another culture and they might follow a different religion: were they not told the story of the Pilgrims? If they were told the same American legend that I received, they somehow missed the whole point.

“Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From ev’ry mountainside
Let freedom ring!”
…for everyone who wants to live in safety, and to worship as they please. Let it ring!

Photo is with permission of my publisher Anamchara Books