9-21-22 - Crumbs From Our Tables

You can listen to this reflection here.

Many a lyric in a U2 song alludes to a verse of Scripture or a theological idea. Their 2004 song, Crumbs from Your Table references the parable we’re exploring this week, especially the second sentence: “And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table..."

Bono has said the song was in part a reaction to his attempts to get American evangelicals to take action on the AIDS crisis in Africa – an effort he likened to "getting blood from a stone.” As dwellers in one of the wealthiest countries on earth, and as representatives of Jesus Christ, our churches might be expected to be at the forefront of efforts to address poverty. Many church budgets, though, allocate less than 1 percent to such efforts. Would a more visible and generous engagement with the poor invite more interest in our churches and our faith? It worked for Jesus…

As that song’s chorus goes (lyrics here),

You speak of signs and wonders /I need something other /
I would believe if I was able / But I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table.

What about us? Are we cozy with a culture of wealth that leaves many of the world’s poor begging for survival? Some years ago I read this: According to the United Nations’ Food and Agriculture Organization, enough food is produced globally to feed 12 billion people. Global population now stands at 6.3 billion. So why is it that 800 million people suffer from malnutrition and 1.8 billion from obesity, and diabetes and cardiovascular disease are on the rise worldwide?

That’s a lot of “not seeing” the hungry. That's a lot of hanging on to way more than we need. How long will we tolerate that kind of disparity? We know that some efforts yield results. Way back in the 1990s, the U.N.’s Millennium Development Goals made significant progress toward reducing preventable disease and poverty. (Read about it in Bono’s 2010 New York Times editorial.)

Jesus depicts Lazarus as sick, hungry, homeless, forgotten, having no power whatsoever over his circumstances. People who suffer often need not only our resources – they need us to share power and control, a transfusion of life and hope – and yes, food. The rich man in Jesus’ parable didn’t see the beggar at his gate. Who are we missing?

Here’s a prayer experiment for today: “God, show me someone I’m not seeing.” Hold your imagination open for a few minutes – see what words or images take shape. If you get a response, ask the next question: “What shall I do with that person?” Not “for,” “with.” The Lazaruses of our world are not “beggars.” That’s not their identity. They are people with gifts and hopes and dreams and families and histories – and futures. Sometimes we can help shape what kind.

A line from Crumbs From Your Table goes, “Where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die.”  As winners in the birth lottery, and beloved of God, how are we being invited to spread the grace around?

 

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7-28-22 - All That We Can't Leave Behind

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here. 

And love is not the easy thing
The only baggage you can bring
Is all that you can't leave behind.  – U2,Walk On (All That You Can’t Leave Behind)

This song comes to mind as I reflect on Jesus’ parable of the rich man who is so focused on acquiring and storing his many assets. This fictional fellow thought he’d guaranteed his security – but think again!

“Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’"

Whose will they be? What will be left of our legacy after we’ve gone – whether it’s changing jobs, moving from a beloved community or leaving the planet for good? What good will all the things we invest in, material and otherwise, do us when we’re dead? Perhaps a rich person's children will inherit, and sometimes carry on the good – and often they’ll turn out lazy and self-indulgent, expecting hand-outs. Can we secure our future and that of our descendants?

The invitation here, as always, is to put our trust in God, not in our financial security, and to live our lives on a daily basis, not in five-year increments. All the things we put our trust in can fail us – people, machinery, the very earth sometimes. We go through life assuming elevators will not snap their cables, or roads collapse, or partners become unfaithful (or Supreme Court decisions be upended…). We’re pretty sure banks won’t fail – but every recession or precipitous drop in the markets reminds us that financial “security” isn’t always so secure. What will it take for us to truly put our weight on the provision and power and love of God?

Here’s a thought exercise: is there any possession or amount of money you would fail to offer if it would save the person you love the most in the whole world? If you needed to be emptied in order to receive the greatest gift, on what might you loosen your grip? That time will come when our grip is loosened for us, and then we will all part with our riches. What if we started to live in that kind of freedom while we’re still alive in this world?

Leave it behind
You've got to leave it behind
All that you fashion
All that you make
All that you build
All that you break
All that you measure
All that you feel
All this you can leave behind

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11-5-13 - Good Tree/Good Fruit

John the Baptizer lays into those who wear their religion on their sleeves, but do not allow their hearts and behaviors to change – and his invitation to true repentance comes with a bite: “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

Some years later, Jesus visits the same metaphor, saying that a good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor a bad tree good fruit. It seems judgment awaits us, and we will be judged by the fruit our lives bear.

Tomorrow is the Feast Day of St. Nicholas, the fourth century Bishop of Myra, in modern-day Turkey. Legends about the goodness and generosity of St. Nicholas abound, and over time became conflated with the legend of the North Pole, Santa Claus. Santa is also known for gift-giving – with conditions: "He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice / gonna find out who’s naughty or nice / Santa Claus is coming to town."

I give thanks for the promise that, as members of God’s household united with Christ, it is his deeds by which we will ultimately be judged (whew!) – and yet he also spoke of a judgment and a sorting. So let’s do another inventory today – let’s inventory the fruit we bear, the outward evidence of our life,the good and not-so-good. (Get out the journal...)

What is the fruit of your relationships? Name some.
What is the fruit of your work life? Name some.
Your recreational life? Your financial life?
Your engagement in activities that help people in need?
What is the fruit of your spiritual life – what are the outward manifestations of your faith and prayer?

How is your health as a tree, emotionally, physically, spiritually? Any pruning or fertilizing needed? How might you become more fruitful?

Whether we’re singing, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” or “When the Man Comes Around,” a Johnny Cash song based on Revelation with strong Advent themes (and not a whole lot of grace), I thank God for the greatest gift – freedom from the ax and the fire. God is an arborist extraordinaire, who tends the trees we are and makes us trees of love. In fact, today let's give Bono and B.B. King the last word - they say it all: "When Love Comes to Town."