A few years ago, a parish in Michigan held their annual Thanksgiving dinner for the community. Among those who came was an elderly woman who had recently arrived from Syria as a refugee. She spoke little English, but she brought with her a dish from her homeland—a beautiful rice pilaf fragrant with spices. As she placed it on the table alongside the turkey and mashed potatoes, her eyes filled with tears. Through a translator, she said simply: “In my country, we lost everything. Here, you have given me a table. You have given me family. Today, I give thanks.”
That moment captured something profound about this day. Thanksgiving is not just about abundance—it’s about recognizing that every blessing, even a place at the table, is a gift. It’s about gratitude that transcends circumstance, that sees God’s hand even in the midst of loss and exile.
The Thanksgiving we observe traces to 1621, when Plymouth colonists and the Wampanoag people shared a harvest feast after a brutal winter. For those Puritan settlers, this was a religious act, acknowledging God’s providence. President Lincoln established it as an annual holiday in 1863, understanding that even in dark times, gratitude reminds us that Divine Providence guides us.
Today’s Gospel from Luke shows Jesus encountering ten lepers. All cry out for mercy. All are healed. But only one returns to give thanks—a Samaritan, an outsider. Nine simply moved on, but one man recognized an encounter with the living God and came back, throwing himself at Jesus’ feet, praising God.
Jesus’ response is telling: “Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give thanks to God except this foreigner?” Then he says to the Samaritan, “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”
We cannot read this Gospel without noting Jesus’ pointed use of “foreigner.” The one who showed true faith was the outsider, the stranger. The Samaritans were despised—considered heretics to be avoided. Yet Jesus holds up this foreigner as the model of faith.
This speaks powerfully to our time, when immigrants and refugees are often demonized. How easily we forget that the Pilgrims were refugees fleeing persecution, surviving only because the Wampanoag showed them hospitality. How quickly we forget that Jesus himself was a refugee, fleeing to Egypt. “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”
When we demonize the immigrant, we risk becoming like the nine lepers who walked away—people who received God’s blessings but failed to see God’s image in the stranger. We are all foreigners in the kingdom of God, all dependent on God’s mercy.
Notice those words carefully. Jesus doesn’t say, “Your faith has healed you.” He says, “Your faith has saved you.” The other nine were healed, but this man was saved. He received something far greater than physical healing. Through his gratitude, through his return to worship, he entered into a relationship with Christ himself.
We are those ten lepers. Each has received countless gifts from God. But Jesus asks: Where are the others? Have we returned to give thanks?
Saint Paul reminds us we have been enriched through Christ Jesus. Sirach exhorts: “Bless the God of all, who has done wondrous things.” The psalmist declares, “Every day will I bless you.”
Gratitude transforms us. We become less entitled and more generous. The Samaritan recognized healing as pure grace, and that recognition saved him.
On this Thanksgiving Day, let us give thanks for our salvation in Christ, for the Church, for the sacraments, for faith itself. And then let us ask: How will my gratitude shape my life? How will it make me more generous and compassionate? True thanksgiving moves from our lips to our lives.
May we return to Jesus again and again with grateful hearts.
Let us pray: Heavenly Father, open our eyes to see your gifts, our lips to praise your name, and our hearts to serve you with joy. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.