Secondhand Thanks

As I mentioned in my last post, we had a house fire in January. 

Firefighters at work on our house.

The outpouring of love and concern from our community was deeply appreciated. The kids are fine. The house is standing and almost completely repaired. Even the cats (who disappeared during the event, but reemerged unscathed afterwards) are fine (not sure if I’m thankful for this or not).

Many among the amazing crowd of support that surrounded us echoed a common sentiment. “Thank God you’re okay!” OR “Thank God it wasn’t worse!” At first, I found myself nodding, a feeling of universal thankfulness welling up inside for the safety of my family, home, and, yes, even the cats. 

Then I thought of the fire on Christmas that took the lives of grandparents and their grandchildren in Connecticut (read it here, if you want to be depressed). It is one story out of thousands like it. Many people don't get a positive ending. I have been known to over-think things, but I can't stop reflecting on what we mean when we thank God for something.

If it is just something to say when there is nothing to say, kind of like in Mary Poppins only a little more serious, it's merely a phrase that expresses huge relief or shock. 

To many people the utterance of the phrase isn't just slang to express shock. It has deeper meaning. They are attributing the good things that happen to a power higher than they are. It is an act of prayer and worship for some, and for others it is a reminder of the fragility of life. 


I can't help thinking that thanking God, as satisfying as it may be when something positive happens, also implies blame, the opposite face on the coin of thankfulness. The implication of thanking God for the avoidance of pain and misery is that God keeps some people safe and not others (all things being equal). If it is good (and reasonable) for me to be thankful to God for the survival of my family, is it also reasonable (if not good) to blame God for the losses in the Connecticut Christmas fire? Is it reasonable to thank God for the avoidance of my family's destruction, when it could have easily have been the other way? To do so feels as if I am insulting or misrepresenting some hidden reality and universalizing a fractured understanding of the divine. 

Over-thinking this even further, my experience with spirituality suggests that what I know of it is always secondhand. At best, it is hidden behind the wall of physical reality. It seems strange to me that if God is content to interact with the world indirectly, that I should pretend that this relationship is direct and thank or blame God directly for my fortunes and problems. How could I directly communicate the message anyway? Think really hard? Shout to the sky? Write it a hundred times in my journal?

Despite the theological quandaries that circle my thoughts, I still have this constant sense of gratefulness and relief floating through my chest, more than I can express with words (as you can tell from this rambling post). I need to (once again) thank those who affected my family directly and trust that this attitude of thanks will somehow cross the boundary that my senses and reason can't detect, even if it is delivered secondhand.

I am thankful for:

• The Catskill Fire Department. Their expertise and precision minimized damage to our house.
• Family who have supported us through everything.
• My neighbors who helped keep the kids and dogs calm and brought us coats and jackets on the coldest day of the winter.
• All those who stayed late on a freezing night to clean and board up the holes in our walls.
• Steve and Andrew who repaired the damage in such a short amount of time. 
• Close friends who have since visited with us, emailed us, entertained our children, and helped us normalize our existence. 
• My wife, Kate and daughters, Dalia and Gwen who have an abundance of strength, patience and humor.

Thank you all.