Sermon for Joint Service (hunger)
February 16, 2013
Isaiah 58:6-11; Matthew 25:31-46
I bring you grace and peace from
God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
The
Gospel lesson we just read is probably the most oft-quoted passage of the Bible
when it comes to texts about serving our neighbor. “As you did it to the least
of these, you did it to Christ.” It’s such a solid argument, no wonder it is so
frequently quoted.
One of my favorite expressions of this passage,
however, comes from an unassuming, unpretentious, sweet little book called Walking
Across Egypt. Has anyone heard of it
or read it? It’s a quick read, and
I’d encourage you to look into it. You could probably read it in an afternoon
if you put your mind to it. And if you don’t want to read it, there is also a
movie based on it, though I’ve not seen it. (Note: it is rated PG-13 so it’s
not for families with small children!)
The
plot follows Mattie, an elderly and devout Christian woman in the Deep South.
She is lonely, as her kids have moved away, and she is aching for some
companionship. She befriends the local dogcatcher, and subsequently becomes
acquainted with the dogcatcher’s nephew, Wesley – a troubled, foul-mouth,
juvenile delinquent, currently serving time in juvenile detention for a recent
car theft. Obviously, this young man makes Mattie uncomfortable at first, but
she had been taught at church that you should be kind to “the least of these my
brethren,” and she is pretty sure that this boy must be exactly who Christ
meant when he said that. The story goes on with Mattie befriending the boy, the
struggles she has with that, including skepticism from her friends and
neighbors, and the boy’s uncertainty about why she would do such a thing in the
first place.
It’s
sweet because of Mattie’s unassuming nature. It’s also frustrating because I
find myself thinking, “Well, isn’t that quaint that she is no naïve she invited
a criminal into her home. At least I know better than to do that!” And I wish I
didn’t think that. Maybe I wish I didn’t feel like I have to think that. Ah, we’re awfully good at excuses,
aren’t we? I know what Jesus says. I heard what Isaiah said in our responsive
reading today, about setting free the oppressed, and sheltering the homeless
and feeding the hungry. But the barriers to this sort of life always catch me –
they catch all of us, do they not? I mean, when was the last time you invited a
homeless person on the street to stay in your guestroom for the night?
Perhaps
you saw the recent rendering of the famous musical, Les Miserables. Yes? Since I first became acquainted with the story
in middle school, I have been simply captivated by the scene with the bishop.
The prisoner Jean Valjean shows up at his door and the bishop invites him in,
only to find that later that night Valjean takes advantage of the bishop’s
generosity by taking off with all the silver. Once a criminal, always a
criminal, and that is exactly why those of us who are wise to the world would
never do such a silly thing, right? For a moment, we feel sadness for the
naiveté of the bishop, and anger at horrible people who would do something like
take advantage of an old man, and a man of the cloth no less! But the bishop’s
response is not anger, or sadness, but further grace: when Valjean is caught by
the authorities, the bishop claims he has given him the silver, and adds the
fine candlesticks into the mix as well, thus keeping Valjean free from prison
and showing him the grace that only God can provide.
What
strikes me about both of these literary examples is that it’s not just about
giving. Sure, Mattie offers Wesley something to eat, but it is not a cake that
fulfills what she perceives – and rightly so – as her Christian duty. She wants
to treat Wesley exactly as she would treat Christ, and that means inviting him
into her home, and having a conversation with him. The bishop doesn’t thrust
some money in Valjean’s hand and send him away. He invites him in, feeds him a
meal, lets him stay the night, and offers him grace upon grace to show him that
even if he is a convict, he is a beloved creature of God, worthy of receiving
God’s grace, which knows no bounds.
So
what about us? Where does all this leave us? How far are we willing to go to
heed these difficult commands we hear today from Isaiah and from Jesus? As far
as donating money or food? As far as volunteering at a community meal? As far
as inviting someone into your home?
Do
this for me: think of a time when you befriended or were befriended by a
stranger… What was the context or circumstance? Perhaps it was in school, on
the playground… or on an airplane… or at church… Think about how it felt to
approach a stranger, or to be approached by a stranger. Did the other person
smile? How long did that relationship last? Was it a positive experience, in
the end? Thinking back on it, did you see God at work in that encounter? How?
Now,
turn to someone sitting near you, and tell them about that experience.
Now tell me: how did it feel to share that story with
your neighbor? Or, how did it feel to hear that story?
What
we’ve just done, friends, is build relationships. Sharing stories is one of the
best and most time-tested ways to build and deepen relationships. And what’s
more: I believe that it is in such storytelling and relationship building that
we find God.
Another oft-quoted Bible verse says that where two or
three are gathered, God is present. That’s no accident. Our very understanding
of God is as relational: God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, one in three and
three in one. God came to earth as a human in order to develop a close
relationship with us, and to allow us to be in closer relationship with God.
This would not have been impossible from some far off place.
In the aftermath of the Pope’s shocking announcement
this week of his resignation, I was listening to some interviews with members
of the global Catholic community. One that I found interesting was from the
Latinos in Central and South America. They said they would like the next Pope
to be more like John Paul II, because he actually came to their countries and
met them, where Pope Benedict never did. Rome could support them all they
wanted, but it was an effort to build a relationship with them that really made
them feel like they mattered to Rome.
What
if we fought hunger like this? What if we found people who are hungry – for
food, for safety, for love, for conversation – and we not only gave them food,
but also listened to them? Heard their story? Discovered how they got to be in
their particular place in life. You have shared and heard some stories this
evening – and it was fun! Why not do it some more?
And
as always, what if we prayed for these that Christ names: those who are hungry
– for food or for love. Those who are thirsty – for drink or for righteousness.
For those who are strangers in an unknown place – perhaps in a new town, or a
new job, or getting used to a new normal. For those who are naked – without
enough warm clothes, or perhaps just feeling particularly vulnerable. For those
who are sick or in prison – perhaps literally in jail, or perhaps imprisoned by
their own sickness or addictions, or by their own low self-esteem. Let us pray
for all of these, as Christ commands, remembering that we may very well have
been there ourselves, because each of us is wholly worthy to experience God in
relationship, and to receive God’s grace.
In
your bulletin, you will find a slip of paper. I invite you at this time to
reflect on what we’ve just talked about, and to come up with a prayer for one
of “the least of these who are members of Christ’s family.” It need not be
long, or it can be – your call. When you have written it, come put it in this
basket. At the end of the service, we will each take one and carry it with us
throughout Lent, lifting up each other’s prayers as well as our own.
Once
you are standing up to place you prayer card in the basket, you are invited to
stay up, and check out the stations set up around the sanctuary. There is an
explanation about each in your bulletin, as well as at each station. [Explain
each: anointing/healing/prayer partner; sand bags (lay your burdens on Jesus);
prayer chain (let your actions be your prayers this Lent); “What do you think?”
(reflections on images having to do with hunger).] I encourage you not to just
stick with what you’re comfortable with, but to do something uncomfortable for
you, because it is especially when we are vulnerable that God is able to enter
into our hearts.
So
come now, and let us pray…
No comments:
Post a Comment