At a national conference in which I took part last week in Chicago, two of my colleagues, professionals in the field of aging, failed to arrive. They had registered and planned to make presentations but, according to report, decided not to risk air travel. Presumably the crash of the airbus in Queens two weeks ago had stirred in them enough fear of flying to make them cancel their travel plans.

I report this news, not in any spirit of superiority or blame, but rather because the feelings of these two people are so widely shared. My own emotions were upset by the latest airline disaster and I felt tempted to stay in the safety of my home rather than trust to what felt like unfriendly skies.

In this Thanksgiving season, perhaps fear itself is our greatest spiritual enemy. If this sentiment echoes the words spoken by Franklin D. Roosevelt in the depth of the Depression, then it shows how important his warning was then and remains now.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” said the president with awareness of how debilitating that fear could be to a whole nation. For the individual also, fear can paralyze the will to act and damage one’s psyche.

Spiritual tradition teaches that fear wars against the soul. It is best resisted by cultivating love. “Perfect love casts out fear,” writes John the Evangelist, giving classical expression to this Christian doctrine. Part of loving God is trusting that we will find ultimate shelter in divine protection.

The love that casts out fear finds confirmation in all the gifts for which we give thanks each Thanksgiving. The crisis atmosphere of this tragic autumn makes recognition of these gifts all the more important. As a friend who is a religious sister writes in an email: “I know we appreciate this family time more than ever in these post 9/11 days.”

I feel blessed in having two Thanksgiving celebrations, one in the midst of my family, the other based in my neighborhood. In both of them, I feel strongly motivated to recognize the gifts we have received and for giving thanks for them.

When my family members gather, we will recognize the long life given to some of us, the good health most of us have enjoyed, and, especially, the warm personal relationships among us all. I count it perhaps the greatest blessing that we all are on the best of terms with one another and enjoy each other’s company.

We have not escaped sorrowful events. Our nephew Gregory died some two years ago in an accident that still saddens us all. Only the memory of his life and the gifts that he brought to us by his presence for nineteen years bring us consolation. Holding our Thanksgiving dinner in his New Hampshire home, we will be moved to give thanks for that time when he lived among us and to feel intense gratitude for Greg’s personality.

We remember others who helped build our family: the parents and grandparents, the aunts and uncles and cousins of us who are now ourselves adults in our middle and later years. It has become a joyful ritual to recall their lives with all the gifts of personality they brought to our clan.

When members of our urban neighborhood assemble to share a turkey dinner at the local public school, relationships of a different kind will move us to celebration. Here we do not have the same intimacy as members of the same family but we do take pleasure in one another’s company. Just as each family group or individual brings food, or prepares turkeys provided by our neighborhood association, we recognize the share that each person makes to our civic community.

Here we find reason to be thankful for our city, for our nation, for the blessings that we enjoy as Americans together. In this gathering, we too will be minus one. A local resident named John was a passenger on the first of the planes to crash into one of the World Trade Center towers.

I like to think that these two gatherings, marked by familial and, to some degree, community love, will help cast out the fear so widespread at this time in history. To the extent that we care about one another, to that extent we will strike a blow against the fear that can damage the soul.

Richard Griffin