I love a ritual sacrifice… – Nick Dion

For those of you who might be following us from outside Canada, let me begin by pointing out that Monday is Thanksgiving (or, as you might prefer to call it, ‘Canadian Thanksgiving’). This means that I will be spending the weekend back in Montreal – I’m writing this from the train, homeward bound – hanging with family, cooking, and watching the Habs open their new season. So you’ll forgive me if the mood of this post is a bit lighter than usual. I’m far too content right now to play the serious academic.

Despite the merriment, Thanksgiving presents a number of challenges that extend far beyond the pairing of Pinot Noir and turkey, or that eternal conundrum, ‘sugar pie or pumpkin?’ (sidenote: the correct answer is ‘both’).  I, for one, have always wondered exactly where Thanksgiving comes from. Now, we all know where American Thanksgiving originated. The globalisation of American culture has made sure that we’ve all seen the same images of little pilgrims in black suits and cornucopiae overflowing with the bounty of the harvest (a European image, actually). The tale behind these images is equally well known. I always think back to that season 4 episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer entitled ‘Pangs’, in which the gang accidentally unleashes the vengeful spirit of a slaughtered Native American tribe, just as Buffy attempts to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for her friends. What follows is perhaps the best post-colonial analysis of the holiday that popular culture has to offer, in which ‘American Thanksgiving’ is branded a ritual sacrifice:

(Anya: Well, I think that’s a shame. I love a ritual sacrifice.
Buffy: It’s not really a one of those.
Anya: To commemorate a past event, you kill and eat an animal. It’s a ritual sacrifice, with pie.)

and a ‘yam sham’:

(Willow: Buffy, earlier you agreed with me about Thanksgiving. It’s a sham. It’s all about death.
Buffy: It is a sham, but it’s a sham with yams. It’s a yam sham.
Willow: You’re not gonna jokey-rhyme your way out of this.).

So how does Thanksgiving compare? As we know it today, Thanksgiving dates back to a decree of Parliament dated 31 January, 1957: “A Day of General Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed … to be observed on the 2nd Monday in October.” But a number of traditions of thanksgiving date back much further than this. The various Canadian First Nations had their own traditions for the celebration of the harvest, as did the French upon their arrival in New France. Traditions of the sort had existed among European farmers for some time. But the historical origin of the holiday in its modern form is often traced to explorer Martin Frobisher who, 42 years before the Pilgrims, held his own feast in Newfoundland. Having sailed from England in search of a northern passage to the Pacific Ocean, Frobisher held a ceremony to give thanks for his safe arrival in Canada in 1578. While he didn’t succeed in his mission, he also didn’t die – which is more than can be said for his predecessors, Henry Hudson and John Franklin, who met untimely ends while on similar missions not long before. From then on, while Thanksgiving feasts were not held regularly, the precedent had at least been set for the celebration of important occasions (the end of the Seven Years’ War, for example). The Canadian government formalized the celebration of Thanksgiving in the nineteenth century, but the date changed several times before the final proclamation in 1957, which established the holiday as we know it today. The October date, about six weeks earlier than American Thanksgiving, reflects a geographical truth – being further north, Canada’s harvest simply comes earlier in the year.

A much less exciting story, perhaps, but one that raises interesting questions about the holiday’s religious nature. The sight of the word ‘god’, which generally makes me cringe regardless of the context, has this effect all the more when used in a parliamentary decree. Yet there is little doubt that Frobisher’s words of thanksgiving would have been phrased in similar terms. At the same time, who are we to thank, especially for something like the harvest, if not some higher guiding power, be it called ‘fate’, ‘nature’, ‘fortune’, or ‘god’? Well, I’d like to think that we can give thanks to each other, for one, but I’d also hope that we don’t require a holiday to remind us to do so. So I’ll thank my team of farmers at Kawartha Ecological Growers, who run my community shared agriculture (CSA) foodshare, for bringing me that harvest. But that doesn’t get to the roots (no pun intended) of the harvest, does it, to the reason things grow? The act of giving thanks for the harvest emphasises our helplessness in the face of nature – we have little control over how things grow in a given year. The ritual at least gives us a semblance of power, the pagan idea that recognition brings return lurking in the background.

But like many things, of course, we celebrate thanksgiving because it has been passed on – it is tradition. We needn’t think about it further. It is done since it has been done. It provides a break from routine, an opportunity to see friends and family… and an occasion to kick off eight more months of sporting glory. So to those so inclined, happy Thanksgiving.