151 - Grace and Gratitude

Grace and Gratitude
Hugh T. Kerr

IT takes little observance of everyday manners and behavior to conclude that gratitude among us these days is mostly a lost art. We are too busy to write thank-you notes or, indeed, notes of any kind. Ministers and teachers are notoriously remiss about responding to letters or memos.

The quaint Victorian courtesies and inflated salutations would ring false for us today. We are, no doubt, more realistic, matter of fact, and less exacting about the niceties of polite protocol. We find demeaning, and a little ludicrous, the gestures of a former day when men tipped their hats, women blushed, and children were seen but not heard.

But wait, we're mixing things up here. The precious nuances of noblesse oblige have little to do with genuine gratitude, and the social structure of formal etiquette little to do with grace. We may speak of Nancy Reagan as the gracious hostess of the White House (how could she be otherwise?), and we may respond formally to letters with some such words as "Thank you for your recent note," but we learn little about grace or gratitude from either example. So, let us start all over again with another kind of approach.

I

"By grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God" (Eph. 2:8). It is not necessary to make a detailed word-study of grace (charis) in the New Testament or of mercy (chesed) in the Old Testament, and all the fascinating cognate variants. Wherever in Scripture God's favor and faithfulness are disclosed, there also we are made aware of a gift and a thanksgiving. This awareness is not of our own "doing," but is itself a gift for which we should praise God.

So, we give thanks to God for the gift of "daily bread" when we "say grace" at mealtime. And grace (charis) reappears in the eucharist, the sacrament of thanksgiving, in which God's sacrificial self-giving in Christ becomes the occasion to "laud and magnify" God's holy name.

Giving and receiving, thanks and praise, these are the reciprocal components of any biblical theology. The Heidelberg Catechism of 1563, among its many excellencies, uses the grace-gratitude formula for its basic structure. The first question asks: "What is your only comfort,

152 - Grace and Gratitude

in life and in death?" And the answer, in part, states: "That I belong … not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ." And then the second question asks: "How many things must you know that you may live and die in the blessedness of this comfort?" And the answer declares: "Three. First, the greatness of my sin and wretchedness. Second, how I am freed from all my sins and their wretched consequences. Third, what gratitude I owe to God for such redemption."

The major seasons of the Christian year remind us throughout the year, and year after year, of the grace-gratitude equation. At Christmas, "the wondrous gift is given," and we respond with carols of praise that God has come down to earth, and we give gifts to family and friends. At Eastertide, we celebrate the gift of eternal life and sing with angels and archangels, "Alleluia! Alleluia!" At Pentecost, the gift of the Spirit comes upon the disorganized group of early Christians, and they begin to "speak" together in a new language, having "all things in common," and "praising God."

In spite of such scriptural, sacramental, and seasonal reminders, theology in recent years has remained mostly indifferent to the basic paradigm of grace and gratitude. One thinks of Geoffrey Wainwright's Doxology (1980) as perhaps the sole, significant exception. Perhaps some of the liturgical renewal among both Catholics and Protestants, as reported in the last issue of THEOLOGY TODAY, will be on the side of gratitude and praise. But contemporary theology, both biblical and doctrinal, seems preoccupied with other matters.

II

There is, in addition, a psychological aspect of grace and gratitude that must not be ignored. To give a gift that is meaningful and not merely perfunctory is to give of oneself. The more significant the gift, the more of the self one gives up. We're not talking about size or quantity. A widow's mite (Mark 12:42) may be as extravagant as an alabaster jar of nard (Mark 14:3). A cup of cold water (Matt. 10:42) or a pair of turtle-doves (Luke 2:24) may represent a superlative gesture.

But we all know people who find it difficult not only to give gifts but to receive them, perhaps because they can't give of themselves and feel embarrassed if others give themselves to them. And the same is true of gratitude. Thanksgiving, as the word suggests, is also a gift, and some people find it extremely painful to say "thank you." Of the ten lepers whom Jesus healed, only one, a Samaritan, returned to give thanks (Luke 17:11-15).

If to give means, in some sense, to give up, to receive is, in some sense, to be indebted and obligated. If thanks is, in some sense, a self-giving, gratitude is, in some sense, a loss of self-autonomy. We must say "in some sense" in order to hedge such statements from sounding absolutistic. The inner recesses of the soul are not open to simplistic analysis. Our contemporary fascination with all things inner, spiritual, and psychological may not be unrelated to a theology that finds grace and gratitude an uncongenial starting-place.

153 - Grace and Gratitude

The incarnation and the cross tell us how costly it is to give, to receive, and to give thanks. This is the opposite of what Bonhoeffer calls "cheap grace" which costs nothing and demands nothing of us.

III

The gratitude-side of our formula represents the human response to divine grace. This is where, in German, we can play around with the words Gabe (gift) and Aufgabe (task). But in any language, the receiving of God's grace in Jesus Christ issues in grateful commitment, the cost of giving and thanksgiving being offset by the privilege of discipleship.

This is the cause and effect sequence in the experiences of those who have left first-person accounts of Christian conversion. But it also characterizes many who, for whatever reason, decide to change the direction of their lives. Albert Schweitzer is perhaps the most exemplary illustration in recent times.

When Schweitzer decided to be a "jungle doctor," out of other more obvious available options, he was following up on an idea that had long germinated in his mind. "It struck me," he writes in his autobiography, "as incomprehensible that I should be allowed to lead such a happy life, while I saw so many people around me wrestling with care and suffering…. Then one brilliant morning.., there came to me, as I awoke, the thought that I must not accept this happiness as a matter of course, but must give something in return for it."

A less dramatic but still poignant example of grateful response, which happens to turn grace and gratitude upside down, relates to an episode in the ministry of the late Carlyle Marney. After his illustrious pastorate at the Myers Park Baptist Church in Charlotte, N.C., Marney established a study-retreat center for ministers known as Interpreters' House, at Lake Junaluska. Shortly before he died in 1978, a typical seminar session was screened live for TV with Bill Moyers (himself an ordained Southern Baptist minister) as interviewer.

The session included a dozen, mostly younger, clergy, men and women, with Marney and his pipe prodding the students with questions. One young pastor was the center of the group's attention, spilling out his disappointments with his church and his own tired excuses for what we call today "burn out." Some tried to help by envying his youth. Others reminded him of his fine education. And when he was at the point of tears, Marney took compassion and said, "Look, Bob, you've got so much to give, and you're out there trying to get something to make your ministry successful." And, then, in a curious twist of words and theology, he said quietly, "Bob, give grace! Give grace!"

IV

Can we now return to where we began? Most of us cannot walk in Albert Schweitzer's shoes or sit under the spell of Carlyle Marney. But we can all express our gratitude for grace received by modest gestures of kindness and gentleness. Christian manners is not usually a chapter title

154 - Grace and Gratitude

in books on ethics, and no one wants to return to the vain little mannerisms of a mythical golden age. But all of us need to be exhorted now and then to be kind and attentive to others, to spread around a little cheer and joy, and to give of ourselves as we have been given. The Bible is replete with such simple solicitations, as if in the midst of major doctrines and moral disputes we hear a voice saying, "Give grace! Give grace!"

Let one such passage from Paul, in the Phillips translation, conclude our little reflection. "Base your happiness on your hope in Christ. When trials come, endure them patiently. Steadfastly, maintain the habit of prayer. Give freely to fellow Christians in want, never grudging a meal or a bed to those who need them. And as for those who try to make your life a misery, bless them. Don't curse, bless. Share the happiness of those who are happy, and the sorrow of those who are sad. Live in harmony with one another. Don't become snobbish, but take a real interest in ordinary people. Don't become set in your own opinions. Don't pay back a bad turn by a bad turn. Don't say, 'It doesn't matter what people think,' but see that your public behavior is above criticism. As far as your responsibility goes, live at peace with everyone" (Rom. 12:12-13).