Give Thanks

‘W e are basket cases of ingratitude, so many of us.” That’s one of my favorite lines from a 1988 speech delivered by William F. Buckley Jr., from whom we sure could use some refresher courses right now.

I happen to have this quote printed on the door of my office. There, I read a recent essay by Charles Murray on assisted suicide in which the political scientist confesses to having had a change of heart on the matter. (He used to be a supporter.) “‘The gift of life’ is a cliché that has become real to me,” he writes in Compact. “Life is indeed a precious gift, and gratitude for that gift carries with it an obligation to cherish it. Suicide is ingratitude. It is a sin against God.”

This realization is the only way forward. It is right and just and healthy. It’s the opposite of so much of what we see — and live — in our culture, on social media, and even in many of our daily habits.

Scott Adams, the creator of the Dilbert comic strip, has cancer — as well as a prescription that could have killed him months ago, but he has so far chosen life and hope instead. As I write, he is being renewed by people’s gratitude for him.

We recently lost a great man, Norman Podhoretz. I was blessed to have known him. The longtime editor of Commentary famously switched ideological sides, which takes courage. He wrote a book, My Love Affair with America, which should be mandatory reading for high schoolers and those who wish to become naturalized U.S. citizens.

This nation has been given a unique gift. As Buckley put it: “The Constitution of the United States, and in particular the Bill of Rights, is essentially a list of prohibitions: but it is a list of things that the government cannot do to the people.” He rejoiced in this.

What a huge distinction: a majestic distinction. It grew out of a long, empirical journey, the eternal spark of which, of course, traces to Bethlehem, to that star that magnified man beyond any power of the emperors and gold seekers and legions of soldiers and slaves: a star that implanted in each one of us that essence that separates us from the beasts, and tells us that we were made in the image of God and were meant to be free.

He was clear about the roots: “America cannot presume to offer itself up, in a frenzy of moral vanity, as the secular reflection of the Incarnation.” That’s a bold statement on behalf of a culture that shies away from imposing religion on others.

“In the end, I suppose, it all comes down to gratitude,” Podhoretz wrote in his ode to our nation. “Gratitude was once regarded as a great virtue. It is, for example, at the very center of Judaism, which requires the observant Jew to thank God so often that it is a wonder he had time for anything else.”

Moreover,

He pronounces his thanks upon seeing the sun rise and upon seeing it set; he gives thanks for every morsel he puts into his mouth, with a different blessing for each food after its own kind; and practically anything that happens to him (including bad things), or that he notices, calls for yet another acknowledgement of having been blessed.

And yet, “gratitude went out of fashion.” Podhoretz worried that “it’s opposite, constant complaining, which had formerly been regarded as unseemly, took its place as a virtue” and that “dissatisfaction with one’s lot became the mandatory spiritual state and obstreperous whining to the government the prescribed form of prayer.”

Buckley, Murray, and Podhoretz all had the insight that to take our blessings for granted is to miss the point of life. Every day, we can look at our phones and be angry about myriad issues. But to be grateful? That’s fruitful. That’s encouraging. That’s contagious. When we consider contentious, intimate issues like assisted suicide and the pain that surrounds them, gratitude can surely be a challenge. But life, even in its autumn, is unrepeatable. Every day is an invitation to love, which nourishes gratitude.

This column is based on one available through Andrews McMeel Universal’s Newspaper Enterprise Association.