"The Story of America's First Thanksgiving, 1621 "

Thanksgiving is America’s longest celebrated holiday. Christmas and Washington’s Birthday have longer standing as “official” holidays of the Republic. Thanksgiving was not declared a holiday until during the Civil War when Lincoln and the Northern and Republican-dominated Congress pushed through a bill so doing.

Before 1863, however, Thanksgiving had been celebrated throughout the North and intermittently declared nationally, the first time being in 1796 by George Washington. But after 1800 with Thomas Jefferson in the White House—followed by a succession of Southerners and their allies—the tradition languished. There was no national proclamation until the Civil War. Since then—1863—until today the President has proclaimed it every year. That’s 146 years in a row.

It is helpful, I think—indispensable really for a free people—to know the true story of how we came to today; to know, that is, the tribulations and blessings out of which our traditions were born.

The story of the original American Thanksgiving begins in the winter of 1620-21. The original Pilgrims were a mixed-up lot. About half of them were known—by themselves—as Saints. These were the Protestant idealists who, having tried and given up on Holland, made their way to the New World in search of religious freedom. The others, whom they called Strangers, had come in search of economic opportunity. There was a great deal of suspicion and mistrust among the two groups. They had only two things, really: their faith (in God, on the one hand, or in a better life). And they had each other.

The passage across the Atlantic was extremely rough. The Mayflower was 100’ long. It could fit in this room. In such tight quarters, the Saints and Strangers started talking to each other. Facing up to their common endeavor they eventually—quite quickly really—became close and intermarried. And their descendants, like all of us, I suppose, were a genetic mix of idealists and adventures, wags, and horse thieves.

The Mayflower arrived in Plymouth with 101 passengers. Almost half died in the first three months. By spring, the fifty or so who remained crawled out of their makeshift shelters badly shaken but still resolved to make a go of it. When you are open to it, help can come from the most unexpected places. All this time, unknown to the Pilgrims, they were being closely watched. Though they thought they were alone, they were not. In the spring of 1621 something amazing happened. An Indian named Squanto came out of the words and, speaking perfect English, welcomed them to the New World.

The story of Squanto is right out of Daniel Defoe. European fisherman had been plying the waters off the North America’s Atlantic Coast for decades before the first European colonies were established. Squanto had been born and raised in the Plymouth area—known as Patuxet by the natives—until 1615 when he had been kidnapped and sold into slavery in Malaga, Spain. He was purchased by a Roman Catholic monk, but escaped and made his way to England, where he lived for three years with John Slanie, a wealthy merchant. He plotted his return by telling all who would listen stories of hidden gold, which led to securing passage on a vessel back across the sea. He then jumped ship in Nova Scotia and by a variety of methods made it home by 1619. What he found there, however, was devastation—all his tribe was dead from an epidemic two years earlier. He spent the first winter in mourning and the second winter watching the settlers from off in the woods. Then he threw his lot in with them.

Squanto taught the Pilgrims how to plant corn, how to fertilize it, harvest it, and ground it into meal. The English didn’t know how to hunt because in their native land hunting had been a legal monopoly of the gentry. So Squanto taught them how to hunt. He taught them how to fish and capture game and turn the hides into warm clothing and otherwise useful articles. He served as their intermediary with local Indians and helped secure a lasting peace between the settlers and the Wampanoags. All this proved indispensable to the Pilgrims’ survival.

By autumn their meager stores were building up, rations were doubled, and a day of general thanksgiving was called, to which Chief Massasoit of the Wampanoags was invited. He came, with about thirty others, bearing armfuls of game, fish, meal, fruits, and vegetables. The group feasted and celebrated for three days and toasted their friendship together.

1621 to 2009 is 388 years. … A long time.

Much has happened to our country and to our people since that first year when, hungry and without adequate shelter or provisions, and among strangers, compassionate natives—comparatively better off than the newcomers—walked out of the woods calling “Welcome Englishmen” and offered support and kindness. Thousands, millions of other immigrants have followed, including virtually all our ancestors, almost all of them in a similar manner: with little in their pockets save faith and a common will to beat the odds and make it here on these new shores. It is our common legacy.

Let us pray:

O Source of Light and Love –
We gather on the cusp of our country’s longest celebrated nation holiday.
We come to pay homage to our sacred national traditions, and to offer thanks for our blessings; among them

• Our democratic institutions
• Our relative affluence
• Our health and the health of this community
• The love of our families and others we hold near and dear.

Help us to truly honor the traditions of this oldest of American holidays:

• To remember the truth about our humble origins here;
• To reach out to the hungry, homeless, and non-native near at hand; and
• To share with them our skills and bounty,

as others have reached out to us when we were hungry and destitute. Amen.