Bring them here

Matthew 14:17-18 “All we have are five loaves of bread and two fish,” they said. Jesus said, “Bring them here.”

I know, I know, I am jumping around again, but in a sermon on Sunday I heard such a new take on this story, I had to share it. This is, of course, the famous feeding of the 5000 (men that is, more if you count the women and children). There are only five loaves and two fish, but everyone eats his or her fill, and there are 12 baskets of leftovers. It’s a miracle. But the preacher on Sunday said that if you only think of this as a miracle you’re missing the point. The point is to bring what you have to the table. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t seem like enough; it will never be enough. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know exactly what to do with it, or how to use it, just bring it to the table, and let it be transformed by God, and watch what happens.

For some reason, this was a real aha moment for me. I spend a lot of time thinking and wondering about what I am doing with my life: is it what Jesus wants of me; what are the gifts I have to offer; what should I be doing with them; how should I be offering them. And this simple point seemed to cut through all that wondering and worrying, because none of that really matters. What I need to do is just to step up and offer them, bring them to the table, and let them do as little or as much as they can, and letting God do the rest. It seems to me it really delineates who’s responsible for what. I am responsible for offering. I can’t solve all the world’s problems; what I can do is offer. All the rest is up to God. Mother Theresa said it this way: “Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; give the best you've got anyway.”

This requires stepping forward not knowing what will happen, offering without a plan. That is scary. I’m used to figuring things out, having a plan, moving forward, monitoring the results, making adjustments, but all that is the way of the world, the way of self-sufficiency, of achievement, of “I am in charge”. The key that is so hard to keep remembering is that I am not in charge; everything is in God’s hands. I have no idea what God is going to do with what I offer, and in a funny kind of way, it’s not my business! That’s God’s business. I just need to offer and trust. This is the way of faith.

Prayer: Dear God, When I offer my gifts, I know I am still looking for results, to see the effects of my actions. Help me remember that You are in charge, give me the faith to trust that You will use my gifts to further Your plan, and teach me to be content with the offering, even if “nothing happens”. Amen

A towering, badly built wall

Isaiah 30:12-13 Therefore, The Holy of Israel says this: “Because you scorn this Message, preferring to live by injustice and shape your lives on lies, this perverse way of life will be like a towering, badly built wall that slowly, slowly tilts and shifts and then one day, without warning, collapses—

The prophets of old tell us over and over that a society built on injustice cannot survive. It has always made sense to me that I am concretely better off in a society where poor people have enough to eat and a place to live, where their children can get a good education, not just because of the ways these problems might “inconvenience” me by having to confront them in my everyday life (like seeing homeless people living on the street), but because the fabric of a society is stronger if its citizens basic needs are met. There are more human resources to deal with crises and natural disasters, there is more human capital for the running of the society and more brain power to address unmet needs and other problems that will continue to exist. We’re not going to get rid of inequality – even Jesus said “the poor will always be with you”, but the level of inequality is increasing steadily. Worldwide, the richest 1% owns 40% of the wealth (Everything Must Change, Brian McLaren). In the United States, the top 1% earn 20.3% of society’s income, a level bested only by the 21.1% in 1928, and we know what happened the next year. Can we stop this trend in that has already led to the greatest inequality in the U.S. since the Gilded Age, an age of robber barons and monopolies (if I have my historical eras correct)?

Interdisciplinary research is starting to look at not just the causes of inequality, but also some of the effects. It is pretty well documented that poverty and racism contribute to the poor health of African Americans, through such effects as high blood pressure, higher rates of illnesses such as diabetes and poorer outcomes with diseases such as cancer. What is surprising and interesting in this new research, which I read about in the Harvard Magazine (July – August, 2008), is that they are finding that even the well off in societies with gross inequalities between rich and poor also affects the health of the rich, giving them shorter lifespans than they might have enjoyed in a society with a lower level of inequality. And of course, there are the other, more political effects, of instability and, in many countries, armed conflict. But it seems to me, a more basic question is, “What kind of country/community do I want to live in?” God intended the Israelites to be a model community for the world, to show other nations how to care for their sick and disadvantaged, their “widows and orphans”. Because of their failure, God calls out judgment upon them. If I am called to the Christian path, I cannot ignore the call to address such egregious inequality not just in my personal life, but at a systemic level. How to do that is something each person must decide, but that God calls us there is undeniable.

Prayer: Dear God, You are opening my heart to the injustices of the world. Open my eyes also to ways to address these injustices, through my personal decision making and my participation in the larger political and economic structures of our society. Give me the courage to be a prophetic voice calling attention to the needs of those at the lower rungs of our socio-economic ladder, and to stand with my brothers and sisters in pain and need against the forces that oppress them. Amen.

Deathly and deadening silence

Isaiah 16:9b – 10 The joyful shouting at harvest is gone. Instead of song and celebration, dead silence. No more boisterous laughter in the orchards, no more hearty work songs in the vineyards. Instead of the bustle and sound of good work in the fields, silence—deathly and deadening silence.

This is god’s judgment on Moab, once arrogant, self-important, insufferable. These are hard passages to read. My heart hurts to think of all the people gone, the laughter silenced and replaced by mourning. I think of the many places in the world where such wholesale slaughter goes on, where people are suffering such terrible losses – due to tsunamis, earthquakes and floods, but also due to human conflict, violence and ethnic “cleansing”. It’s hard to even begin to take in all the human suffering this represents, the particular families and individuals who mourn the loss of family members and friends, of home and country, of health and physical wholeness.

There’s also, though, another, more prophetic word that speaks to me here: this is the fate of all empires, eventually to decline, their place taken by whoever arises next. Pride and arrogance can lead societies, just as it can individuals, into unsustainable relationships with both other cultures and the environment, as Jared Diamond so carefully documents in Collapse. It can take us out over our heads, past the point of no return – too far, as in the commercial about an SUV which can go “anywhere”, till it’s on a raft headed for a waterfall. Will we heed the call to mend our ways, to address the circumstances that threaten us – the growing gap worldwide between rich and poor, our unsustainable exploitation of the environment and natural resources, and the violence which erupts in so many parts of the globe, displacing and destroying whole communities? Or will we remain silent in the face of suffering, as did the false prophets of old?

Prayer: Dear God, It is overwhelming to contemplate the suffering in the world, and to wonder what I, one individual, can do about it. Give me the courage and the vision Mother Theresa talks about when she admonishes us to act anyway, even if our actions cannot change what we see, to love anyway, even if our love cannot be enough. Help me step out in faith, as Abraham did when he left his home to wander, with no vision of his future but God’s word. Amen.

Fighting my own Battles

1Samuel 8:20 Then we’ll be just like all the other nations. Our king will rule us and lead us and fight our battles.

It’s hard being the chosen people, standing out from your neighbors, worshipping other gods, following other customs, traditions. And it’s just the same for us today. How many parents hear their kids say, “I just want to be like the other kids”? And how many times have I compared myself to others with those same words? Somehow, my troubles look bigger, or worse because of the ways that they seem to set me apart from others. So the Israelites want to be like their neighbors, have the same kind of government, a king. But there’s another piece here, too. Why do they want a king? So he’ll “fight our battles.” What they are saying is they no longer want the responsibility for their own self-determination under God’s dominion. Being in charge of your own life is too hard; they want someone else to do it for them. And that never works. There is only one person who can live my life: Me. Whenever I abdicate responsibility to someone else, I surrender a piece of God’s plan for me, because I am the only one who can fulfill that unique vision. It might feel good at the time, but in the long run it’s a little death that grows and grows until it can capture my whole life, and I find it’s no longer mine and therefore not mine to give to God. I have given up God’s dominion for someone’s or something else’s.

Prayer: Dear God, It’s so easy to abdicate responsibility for my own life, to let others have their way and avoid conflict. And time and time again it has led me down the garden path. Teach me to be alert, Lord, to those little moments of ceding my autonomy to others. Give me strength to resist, courage to face conflict and endurance to remain true to the life that You have given me, the vision that you call me to. Amen.