February 3, 2009: "I Need Somebody To Thank"

The other day I read of a most intriguing ritual practiced by a nonreligious person. A parent wrote, "We are an atheist family, but having grown up with a prayer before each meal, I started to miss the ritual, especially once we had kids. It felt as if there was something missing, and I wanted to commence the meal with something, so now we do 'thankfuls.' Everyone (including children) states something for which they are thankful. This custom is very well received and enjoyed by all types of guests, and seems to satisfy the need to begin a meal giving 'thanks.'"

Remarkable! It seems that even a professing atheist can't stifle the urge to thank somebody. I wonder what will happen in that home when some small child finally asks, "Just who are we thanking here?", because true thankfulness always demands a personal object. When you thank, you are not merely expressing a delight, but honoring someone for having given it to you. "Thanking" is the mirror image of "forgiving" in this regard: when you forgive, you release someone from a grievance; when you thank, you credit someone for a joy.

When the child in the nonreligious home dares to ask who is being thanked, maybe there will be an awkward pause before the parent explains, "Uh, well, no one in particular, dear - but we are still very appreciative of the blessings of Nonentity. It is altogether fitting and proper that we show gratitude to the Nothingness that provided this meal and all other joys."

We have to thank Somebody. It is in our nature, and it will even bubble out of us when we forget to suppress it. Remember what Augustine said about our hearts being "restless" until they find their rest in God? It is also the case that our hearts are grateful, and feel uneasy until they can release heavenward some expression of thanksgiving.

Charles Colson found that out in 1966, seven full years before he became a Christian. In his book Born Again he tells the story of taking his sons out on a sailboat he had just bought. He writes,

As [my son] realized that he was controlling the boat, the most marvelous look came over his cherubic face, the joy of new discovery in his eyes, the thrill of feeling the wind's power in his hands. I found myself in that one unforgettable moment quietly talking to God. I could even recall the precise words: "Thank You, God, for giving me this son, for giving us this one wonderful moment. Just looking now into this boy's eyes fulfills my life. Whatever happens in the future, even if I die tomorrow, my life is complete and full. Thank You." Afterwards, I had been startled when I realized that I had spoken to God, since my mind did not assent to His existence as a Person. It had been a spontaneous expression of gratitude that simply bypassed the mind and took for granted what reason had never shown me.

I know I've had plenty of those Colsonic moments of gratitude, and suppose everyone gets them. Don't you? So, so many times as a young man, enjoying the company of my wife, I said in my heart, "Oh thank you God." Or now, when the house is cold and I'm exhausted and I slip under the cover a thick sleeping-bag and know that slumber is moments away, I say, "Thank you God for this warm bed." (What a delight is simple sleep!). Or a big pile of chocolate cake and ice cream. "Mmmm. Thanks, God."

I feel sorry for appreciative atheists, because it seems to me that they are like an athlete with no sport to play, a reader with no books, a lover with no partner. When I want to give thanks, I know exactly where to send it: I thank the Creator of all things, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the Father of Jesus Christ, the Giver of the Holy Spirit, the One for whom, through whom and to whom are all things, blessed be he forever.

I hope the thankful atheist family keep up their habit of saying ironic grace before every meal. Someday, to their shock and joy, they may come to believe that all along there had been Someone listening to their thanks, and responding, "Oh, you're welcome."