I think there’s something Providential about the proximity of Thanksgiving and Election Day, however man-made both days may be. The entire nation pents itself up for months—years even—for the biannual culmination of history upon which the very soul of our country rests. We yell, fight, debate (or used to), plan and manipulate for what appears to be, and sometimes actually is, the day to determine the next four years of our flourishing or declining.
And then, we all eat turkey.
The chaos of election season ends as abruptly as a bad date; and we’re supposed to pivot back to our real lives, real families, and real brotherhood as fellow Americans around the Thanksgiving table.
This pivot, as sudden as it’s always been, has gotten harder in recent years. Thanksgiving risks becoming simply another political fracas, all the more bitter because of the familial and formerly-sacred setting.
This may be in part because our elections have developed an outsized sense of importance. But maybe the shift is harder today because we don’t really want it. We’ve become addicted to the noise, the thrill of the fight, the glory and self-righteousness of our victories or (obviously unjust) defeats. And like true addicts, we keep chasing the dopamine long after it’s actually fun anymore.
The remedy to this addiction is Thanksgiving. I personally don’t think Trump is Literally Hitler nor Literally Jesus; and I predict that precious few of my day-to-day activities will really change on January 20th. Perhaps you have higher hopes (or higher fears) for what a second Trump term will bring.
So what? Whoever is right will be vindicated soon enough. Until then, there’s nothing you or I can really do to bring about our preferred political eschaton, since the deciding day has passed. Now, immediately after the election, is the time for gratitude for the apolitical goodness in our country.
But what we see around us is quite the opposite. People are leaving their families who voted for Trump. Others are gloating over Trump’s victory with aggressively creepy messaging. Teachers are melting down in fear. Christians are nearly-worshipping Trump as “God’s Anointed.” Populations are even threatening to leave the country.
It’s time for us to take down the yard signs and hang up the flag. Whether you have more in common with Christiana Applegate or Ben Shapiro, you have much to be thankful for as an American citizen.
So, be thankful. Be thankful we inherit a system designed not to bend to the will of a single man. Be thankful we have fair-enough elections that a person as institutionally-maligned as Trump can not only run, but win handily. Be thankful we have the ability to complain online or in newspapers without needing to look over our shoulders wondering which government agent sees us.
But most of all, be thankful for your countrymen. No matter who they voted for.
Because real patriotism is love for your country. And your country is, partly, a collection of laws and institutions and systems. But it’s mostly a collection of people, lives, and simple blessings. These are what are most natural to love. Remembering these is really the purpose of Thanksgiving—which, after all, began as celebrating bringing in a harvest big enough to avert starving to death over winter.
