Thanksgiving Day, Year B | Matthew 6:25-33
St. James’ Episcopal Church
November 28, 2024
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
“…can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” – Matthew 6:27[1]
World events over the past few months have caused a major spike in my already-treatment-resistant major depressive disorder. My brain is constantly running, and it kept creating scenario after scenario regarding what our and others’ collective decisions could mean for the future. I tried to calm my mind by watching our pets continue their daily lives without concern and wondered if I shouldn’t just pay more attention to how they live, simply living when and where they are without concern about human society or the long-term consequences of our actions. Those thoughts would help me momentarily, but they wouldn’t really bring my anxiety and fear under control. Then I remembered a man I met shortly after I began serving as curate at my first parish in Redmond, Washington.
Floyd[2] was the only survivor of an experimental heart surgery being tested back in the 1980’s or early 90’s. After he woke up, his doctor told him they didn’t know how long the repair would last. The only thing they could say for certain was that once it did fail, Floyd would experience ten minutes in extreme pain as he died.
I encountered Floyd about 30 years after that surgery, and hard as I might try to find another way of saying it, I can only describe him as a Living Buddha. His decades dedicated to living from moment to moment had built such a centeredness within him that being in his presence felt like the depths of meditation itself. Even though I was part of a group conversation with him for less than an hour, that simple encounter has had an enduring effect on my life.
A few days after talking with Floyd, his wife called to tell us he had died, but not in excruciating pain. He had lain down on a sofa for a nap and simply never gotten up—the most perfect ending I can imagine for such a radiantly peaceful man. I headed over to perform last rites and be a support to the family, meeting them for the first time. Even in a time of grief and confusion, Floyd’s presence remained large, almost as if his tranquility had soaked its way not only into his wife’s being but even the walls and furniture they had shared together. Strange as it is to say, Floyd’s beautiful life ended in what I can only describe as a beautiful death.
I’ve been thinking about Floyd a lot recently. When I find my anxiety rising or my thoughts spinning out of control, I’m consistently able to calm myself by bringing myself back to the present. “Yes, that could happen,” I tell myself, “but it’s not going to in the next 10 minutes.”
Bringing the future down to 10 minutes has helped me tremendously over the past few weeks. Since it’s become a (mostly) regular pattern, I find myself appreciating and enjoying life far more than I have in I don’t know how long. Things that have been leading to dread or even despair take on a lighter, much more manageable aspect. “Yes, that could happen, but not in the next 10 minutes.”
That doesn’t mean that I’m ignoring the future or giving up on making plans. I’m still trying to improve my diet, see to my mental and physical health, and financially prepare for what may come. But living for 10 minutes takes away a lot of the worry around those things. I still consider what might happen, but I’ve found a better sense of existence in reminding myself that possibility is not the same as reality. When reality comes, we’ll deal with it, but at least for now, any of my imagined disasters are unlikely to occur in the next 10 minutes.
I wonder if that isn’t what Jesus was talking about in our Gospel passage this morning: “I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”[3]
Humans might be the only earthly creatures that ruin their present existence, health, and happiness by speculating on the future. “Look at the birds of the air.” They continue to survive, even if they don’t have a formal plan for where their next meal will come from. Look at my dogs, how they continue to tumble in the grass whether or not I’m freaking out about what might happen months or years from now? Or how about my goats, who seem just as contented whether they’re lying on the table in their pen or wandering the yard devouring leaves falling from the neighbor’s tree?
Living for 10 minutes frees up space for gratitude. Yes, it will be hot next summer, but I can genuinely enjoy the weather right now. Yes, that favorite fruit will go out of season, but I can luxuriate in the flavor right now. Yes, disaster might strike, the nation may fall, or the world may end, but probably not in the next 10 minutes. Right now I can appreciate my home and family. Right now I can enjoy a little bit of respite from work. Right now I can offer thanks and praise to God for all the good that currently surrounds me. I may not always experience hope, peace, and contentment. But things are unlikely to change in the next 10 minutes. I can keep moving forward and deal with whatever the future sends as it happens. Right now, I’ll cherish the bounty God has already given me.
“…can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”
[1] All Bible quotations are from the NRSV unless otherwise noted.
[2] His name may have been Lloyd—I don’t clearly remember.
[3] Matthew 6:25-27