“Enough” Preached on September 24th, 2017 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Matthew 20:1-16 In my family, when I was a child, we almost always sat down together for meals cooked from scratch by my hardworking mom. When we were eating something that I liked, dessert, maybe cake or luscious baked potatoes from the oven with butter, I’d give a sideways glance at my brother’s plate. “It’s not fair!” I’d burst out, if the portions looked uneven, “He has more than me!” “You have enough,” my mom would remind me, “don’t look at your brother’s plate, you only need to look at your own plate!” My parents were children of World War II depravations and they insisted that we cleaned our plates, regardless of whether we liked our food. When I was very young that was a struggle. But as I grew older and overcame my childhood food aversions, I would clean my plate and hope for more. I was irritated when others at the table ate more slowly and still had a tasty morsel left when I was done. I never felt as though I had enough. Things got worse when family members and friends started making remarks about my appetite, and my chubby pre-adolescent body. My mom became fearful that I had inherited a disorder that caused my dad to become overweight as a child, and so she restricted my food: no dessert except on the weekends; one small piece of potato (my favorite). “Eat fruit,” she would insist, “instead of cookies or cake.” I was not underfed. I always had enough to eat. I had everything I needed and more, and yet I didn’t seem to be able to stop comparing my serving with that of others. I was always figuratively “looking at their plate” and seeing that their serving was more than mine. With these thoughts in mind, let’s turn to our gospel reading for today. Jesus and his traveling band of followers, the disciples, are approaching Jerusalem. The dynamic in the group is getting a little tense. Jesus is warning what may happen to him when they reach the holy city. Perhaps he will be arrested, maybe tortured, possibly even executed. Their mission is beginning to sound less exciting than before and much more dangerous. Peter, one of Jesus’ closest disciples begins to inquire, how will they be rewarded for their loyalty? They have given up all they have, their livelihoods and their families, to follow Jesus from the beginning. Surely God has a special reward in store for them. And so, Jesus, the teacher, tells a story. It’s one of those “the kingdom is like …” parables. A landowner has a substantial vineyard in need of tending. It is an important crop. Grapes provide the wine that is in high demand in first century Judea for weddings, Passover suppers and the like. And so, he goes out at sunrise to find day-laborers willing to work in the vineyard that day. He finds a gang of early-risers in the marketplace. He settles the going rate, a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay and they go off together ready to get started. For some reason, just a few hours later, the landowner is back in the marketplace. Perhaps picking up supplies for his household, or maybe realizing he needs more workers. He sees another group of laborers standing idle, and this time without any fixed amount settled, agrees to hire them too. It is still morning, there is still plenty of work to be done. The restless landowner is back in the marketplace, at noon and again at 3 pm. Maybe there is a vendor who sells a tasty snack he enjoys. Or perhaps he likes to catch up on the news and gossip with the other employers who hang out there. Each time the story is the same, he hires more laborers. This is must be bumper crop of grapes! But the strangest thing happens when he arrives at the marketplace at about 5 o’clock. The sun is already beginning to set. There’s little time left for work. The merchants move lethargically, packing up their wares, ready to hit the road. The shoppers have gone home to prepare for supper. And yet, there are still others standing idle who have not been hired. The landowner calls them over to follow him to the vineyard. Soon evening draws in, and the landowner has his manager begin to settle up for the day. It’s odd that he chooses to pay the last hired workers first, in full sight of the ones who have been working all day. Especially as he pays them the same: the usual daily wage, enough to eat and provide for their families for the one day. Naturally, the first hired workers expect more than those who were hired last. They have been laboring all day long. Even though they receive the agreed upon wages, they compare what they received with the others. Now it does not seem like enough. They complain. “Are you envious because I am generous?” the landowner asks, “take your wage and go on your way.” He has no interest in comparisons. As I grew up I realized that comparisons with others and the cry of “not fair” were not attractive. I tried to do better. As my mother had reminded me as a child, I ought to be grateful for what I had. My focus should be my own plate and not my brother’s. So why, at times when I was low or upset, did my mind return to the thought that I did not have enough? And when I felt that way, why did I often feel a deep physical hunger for more food? As a young mother, the “not enough”s would plague me. I did not have enough time, for my family and myself. I was always tired, I did not get enough sleep. My home was never tidy or clean enough. I did not get enough exercise, my body was not thin enough, fit enough, or strong enough. I didn’t get through my work quickly enough or well enough, I was not capable enough. Worst of all, I was not grateful enough for what I did have. When I compared myself with others, I thought they had the things I was lacking. I confessed my ingratitude and asked God to heal me of it every week in church. But the feelings of not enough returned on a regular basis, although I tried to squash them down. One day a wise spiritual leader said this to me: “When you are examining your feelings, and something that seems negative, like envy or anger, comes up, stay with that feeling. Instead of dismissing it, or trying to push it down, ask yourself ‘what deep need is prompting this feeling?’ ” This gave me an entirely new lens, with which to look at my feelings of “not enough.” Sitting with the feeling of ingratitude, the experience of shame about my pre-adolescent weight gain came flooding back. I remembered the shame of visits to the doctor to be weighed, and the time when I was prescribed “diet pills.” I remembered the time I snuck into the larder and ate a whole pie and how unlovable I felt afterwards. No one ever asked where the pie had gone. I remembered the taunts of the boys at school. I wasn’t much more than average build (thanks to those diet pills) … but they taunted the girls just because they could. When I was on the receiving end, I felt unlovable yet again. Author Brené Brown identifies one of the greatest human needs as being a sense of love and belonging. It follows that one of the greatest human fears is that of being unlovable and unworthy of belonging. Brown writes about our culture of “never enough”, or scarcity, in the book “Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead.” Our culture of scarcity feeds the fear of unworthiness of love and belonging. We fear that we do not have enough of the qualities we think will make us lovable. [1] This works very well for advertisers who are trying to sell us the next “best thing.” If we think we have enough, we will not go out shopping for their products. In her work, Brown has noticed that people readily fill in the blanks when they hear the phrase Never …. enough: How would you fill in the blank for yourself? … Never good enough Never perfect enough Never thin enough Never powerful enough Never successful enough Never smart enough Never certain enough Never safe enough Never special enough? One of the key components of scarcity is comparison, according to Brown. Perhaps you felt you were good enough at your job, until the new hotshot came in and showed you up at your department meeting. Or perhaps you felt you were in-shape enough, until the woman, who must be a model, set her mat next to yours at your yoga class. Perhaps you felt quite successful enough, until your brother rolled up to the family reunion in his fancy sports car, bragging about his latest deal. We feel scarcity the minute we start making comparisons. Brown identifies a quality she calls “wholeheartedness.” Wholehearted people operate from a perspective of “enough.” They understand themselves to be worthy of love. When I discovered that shame about my body was source of my feelings of “not enough” I was able to move closer to a place of “enough” … to recognize that God has enough love for me. In God’s eyes I am worthy. In God’s eyes, I have enough, I do enough and I am enough. In Jesus’ story, the longest serving workers in the vineyard compare what they have with those who were hired last. They determine that they have not received enough. Yet they have received what was agreed and it is enough: it is the daily wage. It is enough to feed the laborers and their families their daily bread. On Wednesday evening, before beginning their session of canning preserves for the fall fair, I gathered with some of the women of the church. We read today’s scripture together, following the guidelines of what is called an “African Bible Study.” This study includes meditating on the passage and its meaning for our lives. The group concluded the study by saying the Lord’s Prayer together … It is the prayer beginning with “Our Father” that we will say later in our service. As we prayed, I was struck by two phrases and how they are echoed in this story: God’s Kingdom Come, God’s will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Jesus began his story, with “the kingdom of heaven is like…” When the kingdom of heaven rules on Earth, it will be like the vineyard of the generous landowner. Everyone will have enough. No matter how late they come to work. That is how lovable we all are in our generous God’s sight. And so there is no need for comparisons, no need for scarcity thinking. In invite you to say with me: I have enough I do enough I am enough May this truth sink deeply into our hearts. Amen. [1] Brené Brown, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, (Penguin Random House, New York, 2014)
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The School of Love: Our First Lesson Scripture: Matthew 18:15-20 Today, we’re here again, back from summer, and perhaps like me, you are waiting with baited breath to see what God has to say to us today. Our land and our world have been assaulted by two (and possibly three) devastating storms in such rapid succession. The strongest earthquake in a century just hit Mexico. Wildfires ravage western states. Will our message concern a compassionate response to these disasters? To be honest, I think all we can do right now is pray, and then respond as generously as we can. Meanwhile our government is locked in debate over who is welcome and who is not in the United States. Will our message concern our faith tradition’s call to hospitality to strangers? Are we being challenged to reconcile that call with the need for allocation of resources the needs of poor Americans? And what about the international instability particularly concerning the Koreas? Will be asking how we will speak, pray and act in the face of another war? And, so you may be a little disappointed to learn that today’s sermon will not be tackling any of these big questions. Instead the focus is simply a practical lesson in love: How to handle situations when a member of the church or the community commits an offense against us. I think this is a great starting point for us this year. We will continue for the next few weeks, listening to what Jesus says about how we relate to one another in our community. After all, our relationships here are the building blocks for how we will act in the world. If we are to make wise decisions about our responses to the big matters, we need to begin by establishing healthy communications amongst ourselves. In a few weeks I plan to begin a group study of the book “The Great Spiritual Migration” by Brian McLaren. This book makes the case that the Christian faith is not dying as some would say. Instead Christianity is making a dramatic spiritual shift. McLaren takes a hopeful tone, inviting Churches and individual Christians to live into this great spiritual migration. He envisions a shift from the church as a system of beliefs to a way of life that is the way of love. Brian McLaren says he is often asked “What will the Church of the Future Look Like?” His response it this: “What I believe can and should happen is that tens of thousands of congregations will become what I call ‘schools’ or ‘studios’ of love. … What I care about is whether they are teaching people to live a life of love, from the heart, for God, for all people (no exceptions), and for all creation … These churches would aim to take people of every age and ability level and help them become the most loving version of themselves possible.” [1] I believe that if we are going to live into this vision of becoming a school or studio of love, helping people become the most loving version of themselves, we can begin with the simple lesson of Jesus that we heard today. The gospel passage we read today is Matthew’s version of Jesus explanation of the parable of the lost sheep. It’s story of the shepherd, who having 100 sheep and losing one, leaves the 99 to search out the lost one. Once the shepherd has found the lost sheep, he brings it home rejoicing. The parable closes by saying “so it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost …” Then Matthew tells of Jesus teaching about what to do when a member of the church, sins or offends against “you” the listener. “If a member of the church offends you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone…” Really? Is this the loving Christian thing to do? What happened to “let it go” or “love takes no offense”? Let’s note that this advice does not concern making judgments about others and the way they live their lives. It is specifically relates to the way that another’s talk or behavior directly impacts ourselves. If I am “offended” by the hairstyle or the choice of partner of a member of the church, that is not my concern. I’d better keep my opinion to myself. This passage concerns genuinely hurt feelings, or even hurt bodies. It allows for something very important: members of a community need to give and receive feedback at times. The Church is a great experiment in community. Ideally we are a gathering of diverse peoples, from different backgrounds:
The one thing that binds us is a desire to learn how to become our most loving selves, following our teacher, Jesus. This is a vision of the church as a school of love has not yet been achieved. But in our passage today Jesus is giving some teaching on how to move toward it. Of course, as Jesus spoke to the first disciples the church did not exist. Some translations tell of speaking to a brother (or sister) about an offense. Others translations talk of a member of the community or synagogue. This passage refers to both our relationships inside and outside church. As we approach this question of communication, perhaps like me, you feel disadvantaged because you did not grow up in an environment where feelings and needs were honored. Perhaps, like me, authority figures used shame and judgment as methods of correction. Add to that the dynamics of the “popular” versus nerdy groups in middle and high school. Add the neighborhood bullies and underdogs. Few of us have learned the best way to talk with others about the way they have hurt us or we have hurt them. One way we often manage our negative feelings is to keep our mouths shut. That may keep us out of trouble, but that will not get us very far toward building loving relationships. But we can dare to reach out and build relationships. We know that we will not manage perfectly, but we can hope for gifts of grace and gentle correction from others when we mess up. I have the perfect example to share with you. A few years ago, a church member gave me a gift of grace when I offended him. It was during a workshop I was leading. I invited participants to dig deep and share some of their passions. Then, when this friend of mine, Ed, responded … well, there’s not other way to say it … I teased and belittled his response. I was going for a cheap laugh. Ed waited until the end of the workshop, but then he took me on one side. “You know, Liz, I was stunned by what you said about my input,” he said. I could see I had really hurt Ed’s feelings and I felt awful. But I was so grateful he had given me the opportunity to make it right and I apologized right away. The next day, without naming names, I shared my confession in worship and asked for forgiveness. When someone we have offended does not reach out to suggest a change in behavior we may well feel a little like a lost sheep. We know that the remark we made did not sit well. We want to apologize, but wonder if it passed unnoticed, perhaps it is better left alone. When we have been hurt and we have the courage to give feedback, we are not only honoring ourselves, we are inviting the person we confront to become the most loving version of themselves. According to Matthew’s account, Jesus recommends that this is done first one-on-one. The offender is not shamed or shutdown, but invited to open and grow into who God is calling them to be. This takes courage on the part of the offended one. But it’s important to be careful to guard our own safety. If you are ready to talk with someone, in the church or outside, know that I am available to talk with you confidentially about the best way approach. If you fear for the reaction of the one you need to talk to, talk to me. We can arrange for a mutual meeting, in a safe setting. In some cases, we may well conclude that it is unsafe to approach the person, and that it is better to simply pray for their lost-ness at that time. We’d do well to remember that Jesus also touches on this important reality. Not everyone will be open to feedback and correction. Having gone through the recommended procedure, a “lost sheep” may still be defiant, and unbending. It is not worth risking the integrity of the community by keeping this member in the fold. It is better to let this person go, than to risk the safety of other church members. A few years ago I worked with a city church that had a ministry of welcoming people from all walks of life. This included many un-housed persons. Some were people recovering from addictions and not always staying substance fee, and some people who had been convicted of crimes. Needless to say, some of these people fell into behaviors that could have been threatening to others in the church. In spite, or perhaps because of, the church’s extravagant welcome, they kept a short list of people who were barred from the premises. Restraining orders were in place and greeters were to call the police if any of these people showed up. Although these lost sheep were not allowed physical presence in the church, I can assure you that they remained in the daily and weekly prayers of the congregation. And so, as we begin this “new year” we have had our first lesson in the school of love. It will take courage to practice what we have learned: the courage to become vulnerable toward one another, and ultimately toward the world outside. But, Jesus promises in this text, to be among us as we gather, even two or three of us, to practice his teaching. Here is an excerpt from a reflection on this lesson by Steven Garnaas Holmes, shared in his daily prayer blog “Unfolding Light:” “If someone hurts you, go toward them, not away, and name the hurt. Neither hide nor retaliate, even politely: simply, gently tell the truth. Claim your part of it, even if just to receive it, and to give them access to their part of it. Not to nail them, not to relieve yourself, but because you love them … In the dark places where our hurts lie is the tomb from which Christ rises, alive, the very Christ who, wherever two or three are gathered in his love, is among us.” [2] May it be so. Amen. [1] Brian D. McLaren, The Great Spiritual Migration: How the World's Largest Religion is Seeking a Better Way to Be Christian, (Crown Publishing Group, New York, 2016) [2] https://www.unfoldinglight.net/reflections/gz9p8d6mnj4pw678htb8ljkat442gw accessed on 9/10/17 |
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