Thanksgiving: The Mythos and Utility of Representation

By David Ramirez

Although I was not born in the United States, I always felt a special connection to the
celebration of Thanksgiving. My father was attending the prestigious New England
Conservatory in Boston at the time of my gestation, where him and my mother lived in a
small basement apartment in Boston’s iconic neighborhood of Beacon Hill. His tenure
and educational experiences in the United States would leave a lasting impression, and
this representative feast was emblematic of his memories.

Once back in Mexico, it became customary for my parents to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Other than being an excuse to eat Turkey (Mexicans create any excuse to have a party,
make food and share with friends), they never gave a reason to have it. We were not, we
had not been, the typical immigrant family in the United States. Long before I knew what
it meant for U.S. Americans (freedom of religious worship and the opportunity for a new
start), I always found it to be a uniquely American celebration.

For Mexicans, to be American (in a Continental sense) means a meeting of cultures, a

meeting with the other. With this meeting comes a meaningful exchange of wares,
produce and knowledge, therefore enriching and furthering the horizons of those
participating in the exchange. The food displayed at the Thanksgiving dinner – the
turkey, the sweet potatoes, the pumpkin, corn, cranberries – are all native to this utmost
western Continent, not Europe. As we shall see further down, because of an act of mercy
from the Wampanoag people, these foodstuffs also became lifesavers to those European
religious dissidents, which we know refer to as “Pilgrims.”

As I became more acquainted with my Jewish traditions, I also came to realize that
Thanksgiving is the only non-Jewish celebration that closest resembles the Jewish
Sabbath. Thanksgiving is the only celebration where the extended U.S. American family
gathers, traveling from every corner of this nation, and particularly to gather – if possible
– at the parents’ home. As with the Jewish Sabbath that comes back every week,
Thanksgiving is awaited with anticipation the whole year. U.S. Americans, as Jews with
the Shabbat, display their finest tableware, dress up and make preparations for the meal
the whole week before it. It is also an opportunity for the host to invite the stranger, to
house and feed the poor or passerby, just like the Jewish Sabbath. This day, as with the
Sabbath, is spent in joyous harmony with family and guests.

While for U.S. Americans Thanksgiving is a day to give thanks for the year’s bounty, and
having to be born in a country where religious plurality has thrived without the fear of
persecution, for Jews the Shabbat is a day we give thanks to God for Creation and giving
us his Law that frees us from oppression. For one entire day we recreate the paradisiacal
bliss of Eden, which is emblematic of humanity’s ultimate realization: To live in
respectful harmony with each other.

In a way, both are at the same time the most of “religious” and “secular” celebrations
there are in the history of feasts.
These parallels are not accidental. The Pilgrims were perhaps the most of Hebraic of
Christians in the New World. This particular dissident group who were fleeing
persecution from England came into contact with the burgeoning intellect of Leiden
before crossing the Atlantic, then a center of Dutch innovative national development.
Through the interaction of Christian intellectuals with Jewish communities, the new
Dutch national consciousness was shaped in part by the influence of Sephardic rabbis,
and more particularly through the excellent opus of Rabbi Moses ben Maimonides – the
Sephardic rabbi who represented the best of the best of Spanish Jewish civilization under
Islam and hiatus to Rabbinic tradition. As per my review of Professor Aaron L. Katchen’s
book, Christian Hebraists and Dutch Rabbis,

And this from forerunner of the Plymouth colony in North America, the English
jurist Henry Ainsworth (1571-1622):

. . . I allege their exposition for two causes; the one, to give light to the
ordinances of Moses touching the external practice of them in the commonwealth
of Israel, which the Rabbines did record, and without whose help many of
those legal rights (especially in Exodus and Leviticus) wil not wel be understood.
. . An other reason why I cite the Rabbines, is to shew how in many words,
phrases, and points of doctrine, they approve of the new Testament . . . wherefore
the evidence brought frô the learned Iewes, will help both to understand some
scriptures, and to end some controversies.

It was this English jurist, as Katchen notes, who through his Hebraic studies
at Leiden would “exercise specific influence on the form of religion and society
of the new colony.”

However inspirational all this may be, there is a striking difference between this
important U.S. celebration and the Jewish Sabbath. While Thanksgiving is shrouded in
mythos of the nation’s founding and purpose, for Jews the Shabbat is a time we reflect on
our history as contained in the Pentateuch, from which we learn all sorts of lessons for
our lives and the building of our society. In these five books, the good, the bad and the
ugly of human and Israelite history is displayed with flying colors. Nothing is hidden,
from the sublime to the decrepit.

In the same vein, we as citizens of this country should do well to remember the real story
of the first Thanksgiving as part of the celebration, which is anything but what is taught
in schools and reeled on every public media. The Public Broadcasting Service (PBS)
recently aired a recreation of the history surrounding Thanksgiving, called After the
Mayflower.

Based on all available surviving first-sources and Wampanoag oral tradition. After the
Mayflower is a tale of hope and friendship, but also betrayal and life-reversals that
mistrust brings. In this reconstruction we learn that had no been for Massosoit, the
Wampanoag chief, the Pilgrims would have starved to death, and had this happened, the
whole course of history would have been completely different. Perhaps no United States
of America would have come into existence. Yet, the Pilgrims’ survival through the
agency of Massosoit and the Wampanoag meant also the destruction of the latter.

While the story of Thanksgiving became (and becomes renewed every generation) one of
hope and freedom for the new immigrants, for the Wampanoag and the rest of North
American natives became one of annihilation of their way of life and peoples. For the
natives to celebrate this feast would be equivalent to Israelites celebrating the destruction
of Jerusalem’s Temple had Rome survived to this age. For North American natives, it is a
day of mourning. In demonstration of solidarity we all should join in their reflection.

Joy and Sadness are emblematic of Jewish celebrations. This is no more evident than on a
Jewish wedding, where we come to presence the joining of two wholly others. After the
signing of the marriage contract, according to Talmudic tradition, Sephardim spread
ashes on the groom’s head – in Ashkenazi tradition by breaking a glass cup – in
remembrance of the Temple’s destruction.

Though the end for the Wampanoag is certainly devastatingly sad, we should also reflect
on the bonds of cooperation their brief friendly – though uneasy – encounter with the
Pilgrims brought.

We should avoid the mistakes of the past, and Thanksgiving becomes a reminder of the
cruelty and misanthropy the Wamapanoag suffered at the hands of the English
immigrants. We could compare the colonists subsequent behavior with what Benjamin
Franklin, perhaps the most brilliant man of the age, observed in his distaste about the
national symbol this new nation had adopted. In a letter he wrote to his daughter, he said

"For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative
of our Country. He is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living
honestly. You may have seen him perched on some dead Tree near the River,
where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the Labour of the Fishing Hawk;
and when that diligent Bird has at length taken a Fish, and is bearing it to his Nest
for the Support of his Mate and young Ones, the Bald Eagle pursues him and
takes it from him.

"With all this Injustice, he is never in good Case but like those among Men who
live by Sharping & Robbing he is generally poor and often very lousy. Besides he
is a rank Coward: The little King Bird not bigger than a Sparrow attacks him
boldly and drives him out of the District. He is therefore by no means a proper
Emblem for the brave and honest Cincinnati of America who have driven all the
King birds from our Country . . .

"I am on this account not displeased that the Figure is not known as a Bald Eagle, but looks
more like a Turkey. For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable
Bird, and withal a true original Native of America . . . He is besides, though a little vain &
silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards
who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on."
Following Franklin’s words, let’s all be a little be less of Bald Eagles, and more of a
courageous Turkey fighting injustice and for our self-respect. As a Sephardi Jew, I see in
the history of my people the courage it took to make contributions in every society we
have ever lived, and our support of others who try to do the same.

As a result of our predecessors’ positive contributions we have been able to build a better
society for us and for others: The United States of America being one of many.

Bring yours to the table.

With these thoughts I leave you. May you have had a wonderful Thanksgiving Day,
2009.

Tú, ave peregrina,

You, oh pilgrim bird
arrogante esplendor – ya que no bello –
of such splendid conceit – being that is not handsome
del último Occidente:
from latest Occident:
penda el rugoso nácar de tu frente
pendant wrinkled motherpearl on thy forehead
sobre el crespo zafiro de tu cuello,
placed on the overfed zephyr of thy neck
que Himeneo a sus mesas destina.
whose Hymeneal to our tables we destine.

-- Luis de Góngora (Soledad I, vv. 309-14, 16th c.)