Thanksgiving is a tough holiday for the thoughtful non-theist. For a non-theist with progressive values, it's difficult not to view it with utter disdain. It is at once a distillation of the privilege of religious insinuation into public life, and the glorification of materialism and selfishness. Despite this fact, Thanksgiving has become for me a symbol of hope for the future. It is the embodiment of what American society could become if compassion and comeraderie became synonymous with culture.
"Dear Lord, Thank you for this thanksgiving holiday, and for all the material possessions that we have and enjoy, and for letting us white people kill all the Indians and steal their tribal lands. And stuff ourselves like pigs, even though children in Asia are being napalmed." -- Wendy Hood (Christina Ricci) in The Ice Storm (1997)
This little snippet from a rather obscure movie embodies just about everything many progressive atheists despise about Thanksgiving. First, there is an assumption that if someone is giving thanks, they are giving it to Jesus. Like so many of the "non-sectarian" prayers addressed to one god ending with "Amen" (narrowing them down to very few gods indeed!), Thanksgiving is the epitome of Christianity insinuated into American culture. Christians have convinced many Americans that this is a Christian nation (It is most certainly not), and by default, Thanksgiving has become a Christian Holiday. (Be honest: How many times have you imagined a Hindu family gathered around a turkey and dressing?)
Perhaps more importantly, for progressives, Thanksgiving represents a time when we revel in our excesses, ignoring atrocity in our back yard and all over the earth. We prepare a feast fit for thirty to feed our six relatives. With our bellies full and our Ford Explorers littering the yard, we drift willingly into tryptophan fueled lethargy, cheering through antacid belches for football teams who pay their players enough to balance a Third World national deficit.
Historically, Thanksgiving reminds us of the worst aspects of human imperialism. It is a testament to genocide, greed, and religious zealotry -- the worst kinds of atrocity committed with a prayer on the lips and avarice in the mind. The traditional Thanksgiving feast is a stark reminder of the things we craved -- turkey, waterfowl, venison, fish, lobster, clams, berries, fruit, pumpkin, and squash -- and the natives who to this day live destitute in the reservations we drove them to while feasting on their land's bounty.
Thankfully, it need not be so. Our past is unchangeable, but the future is ours to create. What Thanksgiving represents is as old as culture itself, and much less philosophically troubling. It is simply the outward expression of joy at the end of a harvest. It is the last celebration of plenty before hunkering down for the icy tribulations to come. It is the recognition that life is precious, and each year that passes is one year we are lucky to have seen.
For me, Thanksgiving has become a time for thoughtful rejoicing. There is certainly an element of excess, but not materialist excess. Instead, I take far longer than normal to prepare much more intricate and difficult dishes with enough food to feed my guests. The time and effort represents my thanks to them for being part of my life. Over the past decade, I have also found a way to give in a meaningful way to those who do not have enough. Whether it's been donating food to the local homeless shelter, or selecting one or two specific families in need, I have done my best to ensure that within my means, I am sharing.
There is no god in my celebration, and that in itself represents the most powerful expression of my hope for American culture. We are a lucky nation in many ways. We have an excess of resources that would make Bacchus blush. We are insulated from attack by two great oceans. We have a constitution that -- if followed -- guarantees liberty and freedom for all. By most accounts, even those of us with modest means would be hard pressed to have lived in a better place if the dice were rolled again. If we are frugal and generous, we have it in our power to make millions of lives not only better but much better. We can give happiness to millions, and we can do it without gods.
What I do for Thanksgiving is not special, and it is not difficult. I deserve no accolades whatsoever, and that is precisely why what I do has the potential to be so wonderful. If we imagine every American who *has* taking one day to give to as many who *have not* as comfortable, we can imagine one day where nobody wants. If we can imagine one day, we can imagine five. If we can imagine five, we can imagine fifty. Or a hundred. Or two hundred. If we can do that, we might as well imagine a world in which "Nobody Going Without" is a priority on every day of every year.
This is the message of Thanksgiving that I choose to embrace, and I embrace it without gods, without reserve, and with hope for the future: We are a nation of plenty, and my most sincere wish is that I will live to see the day when we no longer appeal to gods to justify our hoarded riches, instead embracing our innate human empathy to create a world where there is no hunger.
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