The History Lecture – Thanksgiving – Sunday, November 18, 1984
Today, a history lesson of ten thousand years we study; of the species called man we learn; with laws, customs, arts, traditions we become acquainted clusters of peoples, of men and women like us, being born, giving birth, dying; nations of languages and governments traveling their course.
The names change as we turn the pages: Babylonians, Macedonians, the Greeks and Romans, Huns and Mongols. Governments rise and fall, the conquered become the conquerors and then the conquered once again. Fledgling heresies become new truths, and old truths turn to new superstitions in the spiraling cycles of human history.
We are impressed with the sameness of it, the destruction, the ingratitude, the inevitable decay. We see new inventions developed, then witness their employment in the further destruction of human life. Decades and centuries of war pass before our startled eyes.
Half hidden, almost obliterated by the catastrophic events of history, wedged between the demise of an old civilization and the birth of a new, a single event, brief nova in an entire galaxy of human history and memorabilia; turning the pages slowly, we find it.
Plymouth, Massachusetts. The season is fall, the year 1621. A little band of starving pilgrims, half their number already dead from disease, hunger and cold. These few survivors, determined, resolute to remain, to perish if necessary.
In their poverty, a feast is held—a simple meal by modern standard: berries and corn bread, venison, wild vegetables, and turkey. But more than food was served that day gratitude and friendship were also shared: gratitude for the freedom to worship, govern and perhaps die according to the dictates of their own conscience; and friendship for Indian brothers who had helped them survive.
Gratitude, unselfish thanksgiving—not for the felling of cities or the subjugation of enemies, but for a bit of corn and ripe squash. We are astonished at the simplicity and quaintness of it, with the grandeur and nobility of it. It raises our spirit, provides new hope in the species, gives us historical evidence of our own divine potential.
An unsullied page of smirch less innocence from the diary of mankind, a spiritual banner, waving proudly over humanity; Thanksgiving—a human legacy, not for Plymouth only, nor these United States—but for all places, all peoples, all times.
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November 18, 1984
Broadcast Number 2,883