Gospel: Luke
4:21-30
1st Reading: Jeremiah 1:4-10
2nd Reading: 1 Corinthians
13:1-13
King's Cupboard Food Pantry is a
well-stocked, organized place for our neighbors in need to get food.
There are plenty of desserts and meats, a good selection of produce
and canned goods and other items. There is always plenty of food.
At the dessert table, some big fancy desserts are even held in the
kitchen until later in the afternoon, so that there is an even
distribution through the day of different kinds of desserts. And
that is why it is so hard for me to understand why people come and
line up for the pantry. These days, the line might start at 11 or
12, with the pantry open at 3. On nicer summer days, the line might
start at 9:30 or 10, with little or no benefit to coming early and
waiting. But the clients who come, have very strong feelings about
it. They invest their time in waiting, so woe to the one who tries
to cut in line.
Some try to cut, with a language
barrier making it difficult to explain the rules. Some children cut
with the excuse that they innocent and don't know any better. Others
cut and laugh it off, as if it doesn't matter. There have been times
that we've thought it might come to a fist-fight and many times we've
discussed strategies such as having a lottery system in which clients
pick a random number that places them in that position in the line,
so they wouldn't necessarily go first if they arrived first, so they
have no incentive to come so early. So far we have dismissed that
plan, afraid of the chaos and mutiny it might cause.
All of this is leading to Jesus'
reading of the Bible in the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth.
People are feeling generally good about this. “All spoke well of
him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”
They like Jesus. They like what he has to say. But for Jesus, he
seems to hear or see something there that we may have missed. Maybe
it was a look they gave him, or maybe it was their tone of voice.
When they say, “Isn't this Joseph's son?” what does Jesus hear?
Does he hear, “Isn't this Joseph's son, who does he think he is?”
Maybe he hears, “Isn't this Joseph's son who owes us something
because we are close to him and related to him?”
Jesus seems to hear that they want
something from him. “Doubtless you will quote me this parable
'Doctor, cure yourself.'” I'm not exactly sure what this means,
but it does remind me of the comments when Jesus was on the cross,
“If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” Now that Jesus
has this power—the power to heal, to feed, to share words that
inspire—people are asking who is this power for? When he was in
the wilderness, he was tempted to use it for his own gain, to get
God's attention, to acquire land and kingdoms, to feed himself. This
is like a continuation of the temptations. Now that you have these
powers, doctor, use them to cure yourself, first. Make your life
easy. Make yourself great. And while you're at it, throw some of
that our direction.
Jesus' friends and family and next
door neighbors want to be first in line. They think they are
entitled to be first in line, because they know him or are related to
him. They think Jesus owes them or that they own him, that he is
theirs to heal them and feed them and do their bidding.
Sometimes we feel entitled to Jesus
and try to keep him for ourselves, too. Sometimes we think we've
been waiting in line the longest, attended church so faithfully, fed
the poor and volunteered so well, he should be ours, do things the
way we want him to, cater to us. I remember one time my grandma
talking about a young man who had died in a car accident. She said,
“And he was such a fine Christian boy!” We all bit our tongues
to try to be polite, but we knew that being Christian doesn't mean
your life is any easier, or that your life means more than someone
else's, or that you have any special protection. Being Christian
doesn't put us at the front of the line. It doesn't mean we own
Jesus or that he owes us healing or anything else. He isn't our tool
to use for those we find deserving.
The widows in Israel at the time of
the famine, might be assumed to be at the front of the line. They
were God's chosen people, blessed and faithful. But there is no
story of Elijah going to them. Jesus points out that Elijah went,
instead, to a foreigner, a Gentile. It was she who prepared her last
bit of flour for him and because of her generosity, her flour jar did
not give out until after the famine was over.
The lepers in Israel would probably
think they would be first in line for God to heal them, because of
their special relationship with God. Instead, God sent Elisha to
someone who wasn't even in line at all, a Syrian named Naaman,
another Gentile.
Jesus is saying to all those who think
they are first in line, that they are entitled to a special life, to
have a monopoly on healing and the power and blessing of God, that
God has other plans in mind. Maybe it is that the ones we least
expect it will be more receptive to God's blessing, or that there are
people in more need than these people from Nazareth, or that there
will be no special treatment, they will all be given a random number
in line, but I don't think it is just random. Again and again, God
chooses the ones at the back of the line, the one who didn't even
know there was a line. There is Abraham from long ago, who is
childless and old, who God promises will be the father of many
nations. There is Mary chosen to bear God's son, a young woman, poor
and humble. There is the Centurion, a Gentile, whose daughter Jesus
brings back to life. There is the donkey Jesus rides upon on palm
Sunday, not much of a noble steed. There is the criminal crucified
next to Jesus who hears the words, “Today, you will be with me in
paradise.”
I went to a lunch put on by Lutheran
Community Services about how our congregations can help settle Syrian
refugees. One pastor shared this story from when his church helped
out a refugee family last year. One of the members of his
congregation had shared with a friend what the congregation was
doing. The friend said, “That is so nice of you to help settle a
Christian from the Middle East. Have they joined your church, yet?”
The church member said, “Oh, no. This is a Muslim family. We
have helped them connect with the local mosque so they can worship
God with their community.” The friend said, “Why would your
church help them if they aren't Christian?” The church member
simply said, “Because they are in need.” Jesus came to help the
ones in need. We are here to help those in need, not to make sure
we and those who are most like us get first in line.
For some, who see themselves as being
first in line, this can cause some anger, like it did Jesus' family
and friend in Nazareth. “Why have I been wasting my time in this
line? I have been waiting so long! I deserve more! Why don't we do
things the way I like them to be done in this church—I give more
money, I volunteer more! I've been part of this church longer.”
Maybe we see ourselves as being in a
line, some being closer or further away in relationship to God. But
I think God sees us more as a family, a group of people all related
to one another, all bearing the light of Christ to one another.
That's where the reading from 1 Corinthians comes in. It is all
about love. God is love. We are here to love one another. Like the
song says, “They'll know we are Christians by our love.”
This reading is heard most often at
weddings, but it is not about erotic love. It is about agape love.
Agape is about self-sacrificing love, giving something up for someone
else. It is about an active love that doesn't expect anything in
return. It seeks the best for the other person. In fact, we are all
called in our baptism, like the prophet Jeremiah is called in the Old
Testament reading this morning. We are all named and claimed by God
in our baptism, fully known and given the fullness of agape love.
And we are called, not to be first in line, but to minister to all
God's people, all God's creation, which is a bigger group than we
ever thought. And it isn't just to love when things are easy. Paul
writes this letter to the church in Corinth because they are arguing.
The call to agape love extends even to our enemies, especially to
those we can't get along with or understand. Maybe our first
reaction to our call from God, like Jeremiah is to run the other way,
to make up excuses, to downplay our gifts. But the truth is, God has
continued to love us, even when we draw lines, even when we run away,
even when we are combative and divisive. And it isn't by our own
power that we love, God is doing it through us. It is the power of
God's love that will reach our hearts and soften them until we can
see the whole family of God's creation as being related to us. God
will surprise us with the agape love that will pour out of us when we
recognize in ourselves someone unworthy of that sacrifice that Jesus
made, yet a recipient of God's grace all the same, and when we can be
open to God sharing that agape love with others who are unworthy, yet
also in great need.
Sterling often asks me, “Mom, why do
you love me?” I think he mostly wants to hear again how much I do
love him. I can't seem to give him a satisfactory answer. Sometimes
I say, “Because you're my son” or “Because you're lovable.”
Sometimes he asks me, “Why do you love everybody in the whole
world?” That is a baffling question to me. Sometimes I say in
answer to that, “Well, I try to love everybody, but I don't always
succeed.” He doesn't like that answer. Sometimes I say, “I love
them because they are all God's children.” Maybe he's just trying
to throw a million questions at me and stump me, but he's asked this
so many times, it makes me think. How can I be loving to everybody
in the whole world? Can God work through me to see value in each
person, to try to connect with each person, to try to be a loving
shoulder to cry on or someone you can bounce ideas off of and I'll
try to be honest and kind. Even if I don't succeed, it is an ideal
to work toward. It is worth opening ourselves to God's love and
rather than bottling it up and giving it only to those we think
deserve it or who we know, but to trust that it will abide and there
will be enough so that if we let it flow through us, it could mean a
more loving world, and more people will know the love of God face to
face.
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