Service

Limitless Compassion

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Limitless Compassion” Luke 13:10-17

Jimmy has spent most of his life feeling invisible. Born with developmental disability and a host of physical issues, he spent most of his childhood in foster care. He attended school, riding in a special bus and learning in special classrooms. Other kids called him names: retard, freak, spazz, dumbo. Nowadays, Jimmy is largely ignored as he stands outside his group home to watch the cars drive past. Eyes look past him as if he isn’t even there.

Heather feels invisible. Every day at lunch she sits in the corner of the cafeteria by herself. She wears outdated hand-me-downs and packs her lunch in a re-used brown paper bag. In gym class, no one picks her for their team. When it’s time for group projects, no one wants to work with her. She sees cliques of friends laughing in the hallways and wishes she were part of that. Eyes look past or around her as if she isn’t even there.

Bert and Jean feel invisible. They had been retired for a number of years when the pandemic forced them to also step back from their civic commitments. Their phone used to ring off the hook. But now, not so much. Many of their friends have passed on. Their kids and grandkids are just so busy. Some weeks, the Meals on Wheels driver is their only conversation partner. They don’t get out much, but when they do, eyes look past or around them as if they aren’t even there.

The world is filled with neighbors who feel alienated, invisible, and alone. You might think that would awaken a mass wave of empathetic outreach, but it doesn’t. Social scientists say our disregard for vulnerable others is a psychological phenomenon known as “compassion collapse.” Dr. Caryl Cameron, director of the Empathy and Moral Psychology Lab at Penn State University, writes that “People tend to feel and act less compassionately for multiple suffering victims than for a single suffering victim…. Precisely when it seems to be needed the most, compassion is felt the least.”

There are reasons for that. We are finite beings with limited resources. We may feel that our action (or inaction) doesn’t make a difference, so we withdraw. Or, we sometimes don’t get involved to protect ourselves. In the face of widespread tragedy and need, it becomes crushing to take on the pain of others. We grow numb and feel powerless.

The bent over woman was invisible to her neighbors. She had felt alone and unseen for eighteen years. In the world of the first century, she was a marginalized person—someone who lived outside the community of the righteous because she was physically deformed, spirit-possessed, and a woman. Anyone who has ever had a bad back can imagine the terrible discomfort that she must have felt: muscle spasms; neck pain; difficulty in rising, standing, or walking; the inability to look up and out at the world around her. At some point in her long years of suffering, compassion collapse kicked in for her community. She stopped being a neighbor and simply become the “bent over woman.” She would not have been seated in church on the day that Jesus preached. Instead, she would have been excluded, waiting at the entrance, hoping that someone would see her and speak a kind word into her life of suffering.

Only one person in the synagogue saw the bent over woman. It was Jesus. As only Jesus could, he instantly knew her suffering and need, and his heart went out to her with a limitless compassion that stretched the bounds of what was socially and religiously acceptable in his day. Carolyn Sharp, who teaches Hebrew Bible at Yale, notes that what one could or couldn’t do on the sabbath day was hotly contested in the first century. In fact, the Mishnah Shabbat, a collection of rabbinic teachings, forbade 39 different kinds of labor on the sabbath: sowing fields, baking, building, traveling, and more. It did not forbid healing. In fact, rabbis generally agreed that in life threatening situations, it was acceptable to heal. The rabbis divided, though, over whether healing for non-critical conditions, like being bent over, was permitted.

That’s a long walk to say that Jesus saw the woman and chose to act in controversial, even scandalous, ways. First, he invited her into the sanctuary, into the community of the righteous—to the Moses Seat—where he had been teaching. Then, Jesus did something even more provocative. He laid his hands on her bent over back and raised her up straight, freeing her from the disability that had long held her in bondage. Jesus next concluded his sermon for the day with an interpretation of scripture that silenced the critics. If God would permit a farmer to unbind, water, and feed livestock on the sabbath day, then surely it was permitted to free a woman from the spirit that had long bound her. Jesus gave the bent over woman a proper name, “Daughter of Abraham,” a sister to all the worshipers that day.

The world is filled with invisible people. Like Jimmy, they live with disability. Like Heather, they are friendless school-aged kids. Like Bert and Jean, they are elderly and alone. They are the non-English speaking workers who clean our hotel rooms or pick our crops. They are the economically challenged neighbors who frequent the Food Pantry or collect the empty cans and bottles after rugby weekend. They’d like to be seen, but eyes look past or around them as if they aren’t even there.

Jesus’ scandalous actions in a crowded synagogue one sabbath morning call us to see our invisible neighbors, to welcome them into the heart of the community, to make a caring and healing difference in their lives. Thomas Merton wrote that compassion is the keen awareness of the interdependence of all things. We cannot find wholeness—shalom—apart from community, and communities cannot be whole until the outsider, the excluded, and the marginalized are welcomed, accepted, valued, and included. In a world where some characterize compassion and empathy as weakness, today’s teaching from Jesus is a bold contradiction and a call to action.

Of course, there’s only one problem: compassion collapse. In a world where need can be ubiquitous, our compassion can be overwhelmed. We say, what can one person do in the face of such large-scale pain? We grow numb. We close our eyes. People become invisible. What are we to do?

Peter W. Marty, editor of the Christian Century, says that he builds compassion for those who live in difficult circumstances through the simple practice of imagining what it’s like to walk in their shoes. He does this when he encounters people in daily life who perform jobs that he’s not sure he could manage or tolerate for even a day. Whether it’s an individual enduring dangerous work conditions, tedious assignments, a hostile environment, or depressingly low wages, Marty tries to picture trading his life for theirs. It quickly his alters perspective and shifts his assumptions about how easy or hard life can be for those who undertake hazardous or dispiriting work that often goes unnoticed, work for which we typically feel indifference.

Researchers David DeSteno and Daniel Lim have conducted research to learn how we can have more resilient compassion. Through a series of studies, Lim and DeSteno identified a few factors that enliven our compassion and enhance our capacity to act. It begins with the belief that small steps can make a difference. We can’t solve all the problems of the world, but we can make a simple difference in the life of someone who needs our encouragement and support. It also helps to remember our own experiences of adversity. Remembering our past challenges, suffering, or need motivates us to accompany others. Finally, our personal practice of prayer and meditation can help us to be present to those invisible neighbors. Taking the time to pray and reflect allows us to trust that our actions serve a holy purpose and God is with us. When we are clean out of compassion, we can borrow some of the limitless compassion of Jesus. The world may be filled with invisible people, but it doesn’t have to be. Jesus believes we can make a difference in the lives of those who feel that they are on the outside looking in, longing for care, connection, and community.  

This week, we’ll encounter them, those invisible neighbors. They’ll be sitting alone in Stewarts. They’ll be smoking outside their group home. They’ll be struggling to carry groceries to the car. They’ll fear they will miss that important doctor’s appointment because they don’t have a ride.

Let’s open our eyes and hearts. Take the time to see your invisible neighbor. Imagine what it’s like to walk in their shoes. Let’s remember our own experiences of adversity and isolation: that bitter break-up, the boss who bullied us, the health crisis we endured, the time we went broke. Let’s allow those suffering times to awaken our empathy for others and build our resolve to act. Undertake small compassionate acts and trust that they make a difference. Smile. Listen. Share a meal. Offer a ride. Bring someone to church. Finally, let’s ground our action in reflection and prayer. Remember Jesus, who healed a bent-over woman on the sabbath day and continues to long for the wholeness and redemption of our world.

Resources

Jared E. Alcantara. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 24, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17-6

Jeannine K. Brown. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 22, 2010. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17

Ira Brent Driggers. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 25, 2019. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17-4

Annelise Jolley. “The Paradox of Our Collapsing Compassion” in John Templeton Foundation News, Nov. 20,2024. Accessed online at https://www.templeton.org/news/the-paradox-of-our-collapsing-compassion

Peter W. Marty. “A Failure of Compassion” in The Christian Century, June 2024. Accessed online at https://www.christiancentury.org/first-words/failure-compassion

Carolyn J. Sharp. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 21, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17-5

Luke 13:10-17

10 Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. 11 And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13 When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14 But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured and not on the Sabbath day.” 15 But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it to water? 16 And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” 17 When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things being done by him.

Photo by Chris F on Pexels.com

Blessing or Woe?

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Blessing or Woe?” Luke 6:17-26

Wednesday afternoons are busy at Baldwin House. That’s when our neighbors with more month than money head to Grace Pantry. The pantry provides them with non-food necessities free of charge, items that we find essential that can’t be purchased with SNAP benefits. At Grace Pantry, new Moms pick up diapers and baby wipes. Other folks may need shampoo, toothpaste, or bath soap. Everyone needs toilet paper and paper towels. The volunteers at Grace Pantry report that both demand and costs have been on the rise, due to inflation, rent increases, and an economic recovery that hasn’t truly trickled down to the poor.

Two days a week, the Clint McCoy Feeding Center in Mzuzu, Malawi serves eighty local children a warm meal, meeting the nutritional need of kids who are malnourished. Lengthy droughts, followed by flooding rains, have caused food shortages in Malawi, and the AIDS epidemic has created a generation of orphans whose needs are too much for local villages. The feeding center provides a modest meal of fortified porridge and tea to youngsters who would otherwise not eat that day. As the meal is shared, the center rings with the laughter and joy of happy young voices. They sing songs, play simple games, and eat their fill.

Marge likes Tuesdays best because that’s the day her Meals on Wheels volunteer comes to visit. Marge isn’t hungry, but after her husband died, she stopped cooking. It’s a lot of work and it hardly seems worthwhile cooking for just one. Marge sits by the window alone and waits. She turns down the tv because she wants to be sure she hears the knock. A kind-hearted volunteer arrives with a big smile and takes time to share some sweet chitchat about the weather, family, and community news. When Marge tucks in to her dinner later, she is thankful for the food and even more so for her Meals on Wheels friend.

In our gospel lesson, Jesus descended the mountain and waded into the crowd that awaited him on the plain. There, he intentionally entered into the need and suffering of his world with healing and bold words of comfort. Jesus blessed the poor, hungry, grieving, and hated people of the community. In a first century world where affliction was typically attributed to sinfulness or a sign of affliction by God, Jesus’ words must have left the disciples scratching their heads. But for those who suffered, Jesus’ words were an assurance that God saw them, loved them, and longed for them to thrive.

If Jesus’ words of blessing stunned his followers, then his words of woe might have made them wonder what in the world Jesus was talking about. In those days, to be rich, filled with good things, joyful, and well-respected was a blessing not a woe. Your abundance and status were sure signs of a healthy relationship with God and a guarantee that you deserved every accolade that came your way. I suspect that we don’t like Jesus’ woes any more than his disciples did. After all, we may not be rich, but even the poorest people among us are comfortable and well-fed. We have plenty to laugh about. We can congratulate ourselves on our accomplishments and thank God for life’s sweetness. Where’s the harm in that?

In his paraphrase of the Bible, The Message, the late Rev. Dr. Eugene Peterson translated Jesus’ woes like this:

“It’s trouble ahead if you think you have it made. What you have is all you’ll ever get.

And it’s trouble ahead if you’re satisfied with yourself. Your self will not satisfy you for long.

And it’s trouble ahead if you think life’s all fun and games. There’s suffering to be met, and you’re going to meet it.

There’s trouble ahead when you live only for the approval of others, saying what flatters them, doing what indulges them. Popularity contests are not truth contests—look how many scoundrel preachers were approved by your ancestors! Your task is to be true, not popular.”

The trouble with our affluence, the trouble with our plenty, the trouble with our non-stop laughter, the trouble with our playing for the court of public opinion is that we can lose all perspective.  Instead of acknowledging our utter dependence upon God, we trust in our bank accounts, our stockpile of possessions, and all that good press we get. Woe to us when we believe money or things can solve all our problems.  Woe to us when we laugh while the world wails.  Woe to us when we find ourselves saying and doing unconscionable things to please the court of public opinion.

Historian and Bible scholar Justo Gonzalez read Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain and said, this is the “hard-hitting gospel.” This is the gospel that 2,000 years later still rings out as an urgent wake-up call. This is the gospel that makes us uncomfortable and calls us to change our ways if we wish to truly be part of God’s Kingdom. When Jesus comes to the plain, he levels with us, delivering a sucker punch that undermines everything that we think is right with the world.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus made the assurance of God’s love and presence a reality for those who were poor, hungry, grieving, and hated. From providing free healthcare to all comers to feeding the 5,000 with a marvelous multiplication of bread and fish, from restoring a widow’s only son to life to welcoming tax collectors, lepers, and demoniacs, Jesus was all about blessing the vulnerable people of his day. In those intentional actions, in that three-year object lesson of ministry, Jesus hoped that his disciples would begin to understand the beautiful topsy-turvy world that he longed to forge. Jesus believed we could make on earth a world that anticipates God’s Kingdom where blessing abounds for those who suffer and everybody is a neighbor, deserving of our care, time, love, and respect.

The disciples understood the values that Jesus hoped to impart in his blessings and woes. That’s why they chose to enter into the suffering of their world. We shouldn’t forget that the first office of the church—the role of deacon—was created to feed hungry widows. And the Apostle Paul solicited generous donations from his Gentile churches to feed the victims of famine in Judea. And Peter worked a miracle of resurrection, raising the Disciple Dorcas, so that she could resume her love and care for the impoverished widows of Joppa. In countless acts of care and generosity, those first Christians put God first and used the resources and authority at their disposal to be a blessing to those who needed it most.

More than any other gospel, Luke warns us of the dangers of our relative affluence, highlighting hard-hitting teachings from Jesus like the Sermon on the Plain. It’s tempting to turn the page and disregard what Jesus had to say, but the Lord had hope for we who have plenty. Jesus trusted that we would know what truly matters most. Jesus hoped we would follow him and those first disciples. We would put our resources to work in His purpose. We would dare to enter into the suffering of others and seek to build that world where everyone gets blessed. Lord, hasten the day.

This year, we will have three special offerings to benefit Grace Pantry, where our neighbors with more month than money pick up essential items, free of charge. In March, we’ll be collecting toothpaste and toothbrushes. In August, we’ll be looking for paper goods: toilet paper, paper towels, and napkins. In November, we’ll ask for donations of socks, which are one of the most sought-after resources at the pantry. Watch for the offering boxes at the side entrance and some Minutes for Mission from Pam Martin. Let’s bless our neighbors.

In May, we’ll remember the Women of Grace, whose ministries support the most vulnerable residents of Malawi, its impoverished widows and orphans. Their diverse efforts serve widows with cook stoves, metal roofs, sanitary outhouses, micro loans for small businesses, and sewing skills and supplies to supplement income. Their diverse efforts also serve orphans with literacy programs, books, and, of course, the Clint McCoy Feeding Cener, where 80 hungry children are fed twice weekly at the cost of about $250-a-month. Let’s bless our neighbors.

Every day, people who are grieving and lonely cross our paths. They live across the street in the DeChantal or up at Will Rogers. They need the skilled nursing of Elderwood or Mercy Care. They wait at home for Meals on Wheels delivery, cherishing the social interaction even more than the food. They are our family members: the aging aunt who never married, the grandpa who never recovered from the death of grandma, the college student who feels far from home. They may even come to church. Let’s open our eyes and bless our neighbors.

When the poor, hungry, grieving, and hated neighbors of our world get blessed, the transformation begins. Wool socks warm cold feet. African orphans rejoice. No one feels alone and unloved. The hard-hitting gospel becomes a call to action. As we dare to care and share and get involved, we remind our vulnerable neighbors that God sees them, loves them, and longs for them to thrive. As blessings abound, this world begins to look like the Kingdom that Jesus would have us serve. May it be so.

Resources

Susan Henrich. “Commentary on Luke 6:17-26” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 13, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/sixth-sunday-after-epiphany-3/commentary-on-luke-617-26-2

Mary Hinkle Shore. “Commentary on Luke 6:17-26” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 16, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/sixth-sunday-after-epiphany-3/commentary-on-luke-617-26-3

Keith Erickson. Theological Perspective on Luke 6:17-26 in Feasting on the Gospels, Luke. Vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Thomas Edward Frank. Pastoral Perspective on Luke 6:17-26 in Feasting on the Gospels, Luke. Vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Luke 6:17-26

17 He came down with them and stood on a level place with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. 18 They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases, and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. 19 And everyone in the crowd was trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.

Blessings and Woes

20 Then he looked up at his disciples and said:

“Blessed are you who are poor,
    for yours is the kingdom of God.
21 “Blessed are you who are hungry now,
    for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.

22 “Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you[a] on account of the Son of Man. 23 Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven, for that is how their ancestors treated the prophets.

24 “But woe to you who are rich,
    for you have received your consolation.
25 “Woe to you who are full now,
    for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now,
    for you will mourn and weep.

26 “Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Come as a Child

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Come as a Child” Mark 9:30-37

Perhaps the only positive outcome of the COVID-19 pandemic was a temporary decrease in the number of American children living in poverty. Federal economic security programs kept 53 million people above the poverty line in both 2020 and 2021. Child tax credits, increased food assistance, the extension of unemployment benefits, and three rounds of stimulus checks drove child poverty down to an all-time low of 5.2%. With the expiration of these programs in 2022, child poverty was again on the rise. According to the Annie E. Casie Foundation, 16% of American children now live in poverty. That’s 11.6 million kids. New York’s child poverty rates are among the worst in the nation. We rank forty-first out of the fifty states.

The likelihood of child poverty is higher here in the North Country. In Franklin County, 21.3% of our children live in poverty. Those numbers are higher for families of color. About 32% of racial ethnic children live below the federal poverty line. The impact of child poverty can last a lifetime. Impoverished families have less access to healthy food and quality medical care. A poverty diet is high in processed foods, fat, and carbohydrates. That’s a recipe for childhood obesity. Children in poverty are more likely to live in substandard housing, experience homelessness, and be exposed to crime and substance abuse in at-risk neighborhoods. Children in poverty have lower readiness when entering school and are more likely to have developmental challenges. Families in poverty live in chronic stress that leaves kids feeling anxious, depressed, and frightened.

When we further consider families who work in low wage jobs that lift them above the federal poverty threshold but don’t pay enough to meet monthly expenses, then we begin to see the enormity of the child poverty crisis. The Ouimette family of AuSable Forks is a case in point. William works for the town of Jay’s highway department and also serves as a volunteer firefighter. Miranda is a stay-at-home mom to their three kids between the ages of 6 and 9. William says, “It’s harder and harder for people just to get by on a job like working for the state or the town or anything now.” The Ouimettes struggle to pay for essential things like car repairs and new items for their kids. They fear they will be priced out of the home where their family has resided for generations.

Child poverty is nothing new. In Jesus’ day, 90% of people lived in poverty with little resource for rising above the circumstance of their birth. Within that impoverished time, children were particularly vulnerable. They were considered the lowest status members of society. Children lacked legal standing and protection as individuals and were instead deemed the property of their fathers. Indeed, children could be sold into slavery to settle a father’s debts. Although children were seen as a gift from God, a safeguard against extreme poverty in old age, children were expected to be unconditionally obedient and subject to the strict discipline of parents. The Book of Proverbs instructs, “Those who spare the rod hate their children, but those who love them are diligent to discipline them.” According to Exodus and Leviticus, the punishment for children who curse their parents or fail to honor them was death – judgment and stoning by the community. In the Gentile world, unwanted newborns were routinely exposed, left out in the open to die—or to be taken in by strangers and raised as slaves or prostitutes.

Given the low standing of children in the disciples’ world, we can imagine the shock that they felt when Jesus placed a child among them as someone to be welcomed and emulated. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus warned his friends of the suffering and death that would await him in Jerusalem. But along the way to Capernaum, instead of discussing better ways to protect Jesus and guard against betrayal, the twelve argued about who among them was the greatest. They compared genealogies and miracles, sermons and bank accounts, patrons and illustrious acquaintances, all in an effort to assert their personal worth. That child that Jesus held in his arms didn’t make any sense. Why would Jesus identify with a child? Why would he expect them to welcome and serve the lowest status person in the room?

Biblical scholar J.D.M. Derrett says that when Jesus scooped the little child up in his arms, Jesus was engaging in a symbolic act. In the Hebrew tradition, receiving or placing someone else’s child on your knee or in your embrace in front of the witnessing community was a rite of adoption.  We see this in the Book of Genesis, when the childless Sarah and Rebecca brought their servant women to their husbands to conceive children, insisting that those children would be born “on their knees” as rightful sons of the patriarchs. If J.D.M. Derrett is right, then Jesus was saying that the most vulnerable of people, like children, especially belong to Jesus. The disciples could not love and honor him without loving and honoring them.

Beyond that simple call to humble service, Jesus was reminding his friends, many of whom had left their families behind to follow him, that he had adopted them. They were his children. As his sons and daughters, they must demonstrate toward him the obedience, honor, and respect that they would a father. The disciples were meant to be brothers and sisters in Jesus’ family, not rivals for greatness. That tender embrace that the child found in Jesus’ arms reflected the love and support that the disciples found in Christ, who welcomed them, not because of their great achievements, but simply because he chose to love them, regardless of their status. In that unconditional love, they would find the courage and inspiration to be servants of all.

As messages go, today’s reading is clear. The “least of these” are deserving of the service and welcome that we would extend to the Lord. When we see vulnerable neighbors, we are to think of Jesus, responding with the sort of compassion and care that were the hallmark of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Beyond that, Jesus would have his followers see that in God’s Kingdom there is no us and them—no low-status children and high-status disciples. Rather, we are all God’s children. The social and psychological constructs that we create to assert our greatness—that separate rich from poor, have from have-nots, first world from third world—those constructs are false dichotomies. We are kin, all children of an infinitely loving God. We belong to one another, just as we belong to God.

If the pandemic taught us anything, it is that we can end childhood poverty. If we can lower the rate of childhood poverty to 5.2% in only two years, imagine what we could do if people really cared, if we had public policy that regarded vulnerable children the way that Jesus embraced that child. There is enough. We just lack the social and political will to make a lasting difference in the lives of families who need it most. We do not believe that every child is deserving of unconditional love and welcome. We pitch a paltry ten percent of our federal budget at programs that address poverty while income inequality in our nation—the gap between rich and poor—grows and grows and grows. Lord, have mercy upon us.

Jesus thinks his disciples can do better. We can do better. He imagines a world where no child lives in poverty. It’s a world where our most vulnerable neighbors are known and held, blessed and helped. It’s a world where disciples realize that true greatness is found not in our professional titles or advanced degrees, not in our big bank accounts or public accolades, not in our athletic prowess or our physical beauty. It’s a world where the greatest of all are servants of all. It’s a world that looks a lot like his Father’s Kingdom. He hopes that we will imagine that world, too. May it be so.

Resources

Danilo Trisi. “Government’s Pandemic Response Turned a Would-Be Poverty Surge into a Record Poverty Decline” in Center on Budget and Policy Priorities Reports, August 29, 2023. Accessed online at Government’s Pandemic Response Turned a Would-Be Poverty Surge Into a Record Poverty Decline | Center on Budget and Policy Priorities (cbpp.org)

Alek LaShomb. “Efforts to Address Child Poverty in New York’s North Country” in WCAX News, June 14, 2024. Accessed online at Efforts to address child poverty in New York’s North Country (wcax.com)

Courtney V. Buggs. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 22, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Micah D. Kiel. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 20, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 19, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Thomas P. Napoli. “New York Children in Need,” a report of the Office of the NYS Comptroller, May 2024. Accessed online at Report Titl (ny.gov)

Mark 9:30-37

30 They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it, 31 for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” 32 But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him. 33 Then they came to Capernaum, and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” 34 But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. 35 He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” 36 Then he took a little child and put it among them, and taking it in his arms he said to them, 37 “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Blessed and Entrusted

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Blessed and Entrusted” Matthew 25:14-30

You’ll find Rupert tending the huge outdoor grill for his church’s annual chicken barbeque. His preparations start weeks in advance. He gathers ingredients for his secret sauce. He procures the mesquite chips that get soaked and sprinkled on the coals to impart that special smoky flavor. He makes the big run to Sam’s Club for all that chicken. Folks are so glad that Rupert shares his talent that, on the day of the barbeque, they line up around the block. The chicken always sells out. It’s his church’s biggest mission fund raiser of the year.

Sharon is the Field Marshall of her church’s annual Christmas Bazaar. Her talents for organization and communication are impressive. She contacts all the crafters months in advance to ensure there will be a beautiful selection of handmade goods. She sees to it that the men’s group cuts greens and makes beautiful evergreen wreaths to sell. She gets the bakers baking a bounty of Christmas cookies, brewing coffee, and making cocoa for the snack table. On the day of the Bazaar, Sharon has volunteers lined up from early to late. Every year, people say it can’t get any better, but somehow with Sharon’s leadership, it does.

Sam is his church’s most faithful servant. Now that he is retired, he rises early every Tuesday, eats his breakfast, and heads down to the church office to put his handyman talents to work. There, the secretary hands him a list of things that need his attention: lightbulb in the fellowship hall needs changing, toilet in the men’s bathroom needs plunging, grass could use mowing. Sam takes his list and gets busy. You can hear him whistling around the church as he tends to his “honey-dos.” At lunchtime, he walks home with a pleased smile, eats a big bowl of soup, and takes a nap.

Every church has them—good and faithful servants who get busy, sharing their talents to serve the Lord and bless the rest of us.

Our gospel lesson today has long been called the Parable of the Talents. In Jesus’s story, three servants were “entrusted” with talents. In the first century, a talent was a great weight of silver, between seventy-five and ninety pounds. A single talent was equivalent to twenty year’s wages for a day laborer. The first slave received 100 years’ wages in one lump sum, the second slave 40 years’ wages.  Even the last and least able slave received great wealth, 20 years’ pay dropped in his lap. This tremendous windfall was entrusted without instructions or supervision.

The Greek word translated here as entrusted, paradidomai, has a couple of meanings.  Paradidomai means to hand something over, to make a gift of something valuable.  But paradidomai is also used to describe how a rabbi hands down a teaching tradition, a sort of passing the torch of spiritual authority to disciples. Back when this story was first told, Jesus was entrusting his ministry to his disciples.

In the long history of interpretation of this parable, the word talent has taken on new meaning. John Chrysostum, the fourth century Bishop of Constantinople was the first to suggest that the talents of the parable are gifts and abilities. Each of us is blessed with unique and precious capabilities that bring us joy and bless others, like the real-life examples that I gave at the start of my message—Rupert the grill master, Sharon the majordomo, and Sam the handyman. Chrysostum’s interpretation of this parable has been so influential over the centuries that the common understanding of “talent’ no longer means a great weight of silver. It means our God-given and self-developed potential.

In Jesus’s story, two servants found purpose in their gift. They traded and took risks to increase what they had been given. Perhaps one bought a small flock and shrewdly shepherded, bred, and traded his sheep and goats, until he was rich with animals, wool, and meat. Perhaps the other purchased a small vineyard. He grew grapes, dried raisins, and made the finest wine that was in the greatest of demand. The slaves were blessed by the undertaking, filled with satisfaction and delight in their accomplishment. They were eager to share their incredible success when the Master returned.

I think we can all share stories of the blessing we experience when our God-given gifts are developed to their fullest potential and used in ways that bring goodness to the lives of others. I know that Rupert the grill master felt that the annual chicken barbeque was the highlight of his summer. Sharon the Field Marshall of the Christmas Bazaar rejoiced mightily every time the sale set a new record in raising funds for mission. Sam the Handyman sensed that he had found real satisfaction in retirement by keeping things running smoothly at church so that folks could show up on Sunday morning and be blessed.

For the third servant of the parable, it was a different story. He responded to the Master’s gift with fear, as if it were a big unwanted burden – more curse than blessing. We can imagine Jesus telling the long version of the parable. The slave waited for the cover of darkness and then lugged that great weight of silver to an unlikely place, quietly dug a pit, and buried it deep. After that, he lived every day of the long waiting time in worry and anxiety, always looking over his shoulder. Would someone steal the treasure? Was today the day when the Master would return? When the Master finally appeared, the third slave was filled with resentment. First, he insulted his Master, then he handed off the talent like it was a hot potato. Good riddance! There was no blessing for the third slave in the talent, no blessing in the waiting, and no blessing in the Master. His rejection of opportunity, his rejection of blessing, left him banished to the outer darkness.

It’s important to remember that Jesus was using hyperbole – a rhetoric of exaggeration —to make a point about the necessity for disciples to continue the ministry that he was entrusting to them. The dramatic description of the third slave wailing and languishing in the outer darkness reminded Jesus’s friends that although there would be fear and danger in the wake of his crucifixion, there could be blessing. If only they simply kept working, kept sharing, kept the faith, they would find joy for themselves and others.

If we set aside the scary hyperbole for a moment, we can see that this story is about trust, blessing, potential, and joy. Church folk tend to be a talented lot. Some have the prodigious gift of music. Others have the knack for building and fixing things. Some are wonderful cooks. Some are wonderfully caring or gifted in the offering of prayer. Some are natural leaders, while others are great followers and worker bees. We may not have the grilling gifts of Rupert or the organizational prowess of Sharon or the fix-it ingenuity of Sam, but we are each uniquely entrusted with abilities and qualities that make us the people we are. So much potential! Those talents are God-given and made for sharing. God doesn’t give us a checklist of missions to be accomplished, but the Lord trusts that we will be busy in his purpose.

Here’s the delightful truth of the parable. When we sing in the choir or share special music, it’s a blessing! When we put on our apron and fire up the oven for the bake sale, it’s a blessing. When we share our teaching gifts with the kids, it’s a blessing! When we share our caring gifts as a deacon, our devotional gifts on the prayer chain, or our knack for compassion at the Food Pantry, what is it? A blessing! When talented people get busy, the blessings abound. It’s a blessing for us and it’s a blessing to others. Praise the Lord for those talented Presbyterians!

The exclamation point of this parable is the Master’s joy. Jesus’s story suggests that when faithful disciples use their talents to get busy in God’s purpose, God finds delight. We put a smile on the face of the Great Almighty. Heaven breaks forth with the sound of rejoicing. Even better, when we are blessed by using our gifts—and others are blessed by us—then we are welcomed with praise into the joy of the Master. “Well done, good and faithful servants!” You might even say, that when talents are plied and blessing abounds, our world begins to look and feel like God’s Kingdom where the joy will never end. Don’t we want to be a part of that joy?

Every church has them—good and faithful servants who get busy, sharing their talents to serve the Lord and bless the rest of us. The Ruperts. The Sharons. The Sams. People like us! May we use our talents wisely. And may the Master’s joy abound!

Resources:

Carla Works. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 13, 2011. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

David Schnasa Jacobsen. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 19, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Dirk G. Lange. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 16, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Greg Carey. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 16, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Matthew 25:14-30

14“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; 15to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. 16The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. 17In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. 18But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. 19After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. 20Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ 21His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ 22And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ 23His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ 24Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; 25so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’ 26But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? 27Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return, I would have received what was my own with interest. 28So take the talent from him and give it to the one with the ten talents. 29For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. 30As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

Photo by Julia Filirovska on Pexels.com

The Call to Serve

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Throughout Lent, I’ll be sharing weekly devotions based upon my travels to the Middle East. Today’s meditation is the fifth in the series.

“Jesus knew that the Father had given everything into His hands, that He had come from God, and that He was going back to God. So, He got up from supper, laid aside His robe, took a towel, and tied it around Himself. Next, He poured water into a basin and began to wash His disciples’ feet and to dry them with the towel tied around Him.”

—John 13:3-5

The traditional site of the Last Supper is found on Mount Zion in the neighborhood of Jerusalem known as the City of David. In Jesus’ day, it would have been a prosperous neighborhood, home perhaps to an affluent follower of Jesus who made his residence available for the Passover celebration. As early as the year 130 CE, there was a “little church of God” in this location, most likely a house church where Christians gathered discretely in a time when they were strongly persecuted. Many churches have since stood on this spot. Two were destroyed by fire in the years 614 and again in 965. The current building was constructed by the Franciscans in 1335. The “Upper Room,” commemorated as the location of the Last Supper, is simply constructed with vaulted ceiling, Gothic arches, and white-washed-walls. It’s been sacred to Christians, Jews, and Muslims. The Tomb of David is housed in the lower level of the same building, and from 1524 to 1948 the building housed a mosque.

What Jesus chose to do as the Passover meal began was the work of the lowest status member of a household, a labor normally undertaken by a menial servant or slave. Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. Perhaps we can imagine him in the golden glow of oil lamps as he rolled up his sleeves, fell to his knees, and moved from one of his followers to another. He cradled their road-weary heels, poured water to wash away the grime of the day, and then gently toweled them dry. The busy chatter that precedes the Passover seder would have fallen silent, the disciples profoundly uncomfortable to have a high-status rabbi like Jesus serving them.

It was an object lesson in humility, setting the example of self-giving love and humble service. Within twenty-four hours, Jesus would set an even greater example, giving his life for the sins of the world.

How will you follow Jesus in the way of humble service?

Please pray with me . . .

Gentle and humble Lord, may love put us on our knees today. Amen.

“Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? Lay first the foundation of humility.”–Augustine

“Miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word; always doing the smallest right and doing it all for love.”
―Therese of Lisieux

“I am persuaded that love and humility are the highest attainments in the school of Christ and the brightest evidences that He is indeed our Master.”–John Newton

“I cannot do all the good that the world needs. But the world needs all the good that I can do.”― Jana Stanfield

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cenacle_corner_2.jpg

Cold Water

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Cold Water” Matthew 10:40-42

“That’s some good ice tea.”  It was James, in his polyester sport coat, pointy collared shirt, and freshly shined spats.  James fancied himself to be the heir apparent to James Brown.  Every so often during our Wednesday evening gatherings at the New York Avenue church, James would break into song and share his funkiest moves, feet shuffling almost too fast to be seen, body spinning then dropping into a split before popping back up, like magic. 

James had offered his appreciation for the tea in the general direction of the tea makers, Connie and me.  I was filling cups with the sweet, lemony tea, while Connie was perched on a chair, working on her latest crochet creation. The week before, I had cleaned out my yarn stash and brought Connie a big bag of odds and ends and never completed projects. If James thought he could compete with that for Connie’s attention, he had another think coming. 

“Hey,” James ventured again, “Hey, Connie! I said that’s some good ice tea.” But Connie only rolled her eyes as if to say, “He’s crazy.”  And he was.  In fact, everyone was, in one way or another, both the guests and the hosts at the 729 Club where I volunteered. 

“Connie!” I chided.  She gave me a baleful look and put down her crochet hook. 

“You are welcome, James,” she smiled as sugary sweet as the tea.  That made James so happy that he did a little spin and bow, every bit as deft and debonair as the Godfather of Soul himself.

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones…”

“I’d like some of that brown stuff,” it was a softly spoken request.  I turned away from the sink where I had been washing dishes and peered into the dim light behind me.  I spied him near the open back door, swaying a little bit, looking like he was about to bolt off into the dark.  I was on the reservation for my cross-cultural quarter of seminary studies.  My host was Sally Big Bear, a local spiritual leader, and this was her youngest brother, Habob.  I’d seen him around the edges of things but had never heard him speak.  Like many of the young adults on Rosebud, he struggled with addiction.

“I’d like some of that brown stuff,” Habob repeated, no eye contact, but his body language told me he was talking about the sheet cakes that rested on the kitchen counter.  Earlier, after dinner, Sally had parceled out pieces of cake to the large extended family that had come for the meal – sons and daughters, children, grandchildren, aunties, uncles, neighbors, and even seminarians. 

“Brown stuff?” I puzzled, looking at the crumby remnants, and picking up a knife.  “Chocolate?”

Habob’s brow furrowed, “No, not chocolate. The brown stuff?” He asked again, hopeful. 

That’s when I saw it, more beige than brown, crowned with a frothy brown sugar and coconut icing.  “Ah!  Spice cake!”  I cut a large slab, balanced it on a paper plate and shrouded it in a cocoon of saran wrap.  “For you!” I said, holding it out with two hands, and Habob received it with the same sort of reverence that a child reserves for a favorite toy or stuffed animal. 

“Hmmm. Brown stuff!  Thanks!” he mumbled before slipping out into the South Dakota darkness with his treasure.

About three o’clock the next day we heard news that too many families get on the reservation.  Habob had been found dead in the abandoned house where he lived with other addicts.

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones….”

“Lady, can you help my dog?” It was Johnny Wayne, the seven-year-old grandson of Mr. Robert.  So far, Johnny Wayne had impressed us with his ability to cuss and cheat in bike races.  I was in eastern Kentucky with my Youth Group.  We were putting a new foundation under the back of Mr. Robert’s house. I’d spent most of the afternoon digging a ditch to lay drain tile to divert the water that would pour off Robert’s roof and under his home.  Now, I was drinking cold water, as much as I could get, and sitting on the front porch taking a break. 

“Lady, can you help my dog?” Johnny Wayne wanted to know.  She was a big red pit bull mix with a saggy belly that told me she had had more than one litter of pups. 

“What’s wrong?” I ventured warily. 

“She’s got ticks.”  Johnny Wayne wasn’t kidding.  From ears to tail, Rosie was littered with ticks, more than I had ever seen, little and big, making a meal of her. 

I confess that ticks repulse me.  They’re like little insect vampires, dropping from trees or jumping out of the grass to make our lives miserable.  And while I am a dog lover, I try to steer clear of anything that looks remotely like a pit bull.  My reluctance must have been written all over my face as I said, “Wow.  I’m not sure what you want me to do about that, Johnny Wayne.” 

The little boy tried again.  “C’mon, please!  Help her.  How would you like to be covered in ticks?”

I wouldn’t, and that’s when I realized that Johnny Wayne was good not only at swearing and cheating but also at getting grown-ups to do what he needed them to do. 

“Ok.” I relented and spent the next thirty minutes picking ticks off Rosie.  She rolled right over, as if she had known me all her life, while Johnny Wayne told me stories of all the good things that he was going to do with his father when he got out of prison.

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones….”

There was a big cardboard box, right on the stoop, blocking my way to the front door when I got home from work.  I’d had the “brilliant” idea to leave a well-paying job back east and test the waters of a career change by serving as a VISTA, Volunteer in Service to America.  Now, I was a volunteer coordinator and health educator, working out of the Jackson County, Oregon, Health Department.  That meant I spent all my time touting the benefits of WIC and the Oregon Health Plan while trying to convince women to get prenatal care and immunize their children, all for a princely monthly stipend of $600, which did not go far in a community where just renting a room cost about $350.  I ate a lot of rice and beans that year.

Taped to the top of the cardboard box was a note written in easily recognizable, large wobbly letters, “For Joann.”  The handwriting belonged to Ivan, a Vietnam vet who suffered from PTSD.  I’m not really sure how I had met Ivan.  He belonged to the Seventh Day Adventist Church in town, and sometimes he would join me on Sunday afternoons for hikes up in the mountains or drives down to the coast, activities which he felt a young woman should not be doing on her own. 

A box from Ivan could hold a lot of things – tracts touting the benefits of being an Adventist, pumice stones that he picked up along the banks of the Rogue River, or maybe some great thrift store find, like a Rubik’s Cube or a jigsaw puzzle, missing a few pieces.  But this night, when I dragged the box inside and popped it open, I found that it was full of vegetables.  There were cucumbers and tomatoes, big leafy collard greens, onions, and zucchini squash big enough to double for baseball bats.  Move over beans and rice, I had just hit the fresh produce jackpot!

When I called Ivan later to thank him for his kindness, I learned that he had grown the vegetables in a little garden plot that he had down at the Adventist church.  I could just picture him that summer, patiently pulling weeds, watering, and harvesting.  It was without question one of the kindest things that anyone had ever done for me.  But why me? I wanted to know. Ivan’s answer was heartwarming and humbling all at the same time, “Joann, the Lord would want me to do something good for you.”

“And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple – truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Jesus taught his followers about the importance of simple acts of kindness that we can share in the course of our everyday living.  When Jesus sent his disciples out on their gospel mission, he knew that they would depend upon the kindness of strangers.  Jesus also taught that when we extend hospitality to our vulnerable neighbors, the little ones of our world, we are really caring for him.  Hospitality, given and received, grants us a foretaste of the world that God would have us forge.  It’s a kingdom where all are welcomed, loved, and cared for.  It’s a world where James will spin Connie around the dance floor, and Habob will tuck into a second slice of spice cake.  Johnny Wayne will play ball with his Daddy, Rosie will be free from ticks, and the tables of the poor will abound with fresh-picked produce.  I want to be a part of that world.  How about you?

Matthew 10:40-42

40 “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. 41 Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, 42 and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Photo by Sohel Patel on Pexels.com