Gratitude—essential to the spiritual life. Easy enough for splendid things like the arrival of Spring. Azaleas, those bushes of background evergreen, now grab the spotlight in blazing fuchsia and white. Daylight stretches into evening, finding more bounce than trudge in one’s step through the front door after a full day of work. Dancing fairy blossoms of pink alight on the graceful dogwood branch. But what of the scratchy eyes and twitching nose brought on by pollen floating in the sunlight? Must we give thanks for that, too? If so, it is tempting to do it with head down, arms folded on chest, lower lip slightly out like a small child urged to say “Thank you” for the ill-fitting sweater knit by a great aunt.
Sunday’s lectionary was a story from the exodus of the Jews. The Israelites in the desert were complaining of no water or food. True, they had manna, but it was terrible stuff. Then poisonous snakes arrived on the scene, until everyone saw that they might have grumbled too much. Does this story teach that lack of gratitude, even for that which you don’t like, can be poisonous and end with a bite? Or is this a tale of no trust in what is planned out? Or is it both? Perhaps gratitude is based on the trust that whatever comes is a gift, although it may not be pleasant or even well-liked. In fact, the gift may be in realizing that enough is enough, spurring action and change. Or the gift may be in accepting what is, an attitudinal shift. And certainly the gift may be in an unfolding, like a rose in response to the light. Gratitude for all and trust that all is a gift, even that pollen annoying the nose. 