 |
 Marching Orders |
|
21 January 2007 A colleague[1] tells of a Franciscan monk in Australia assigned to be guide and ‘go-fer’ to Mother Teresa when she visited New South Wales. Thrilled at the prospect, he envisioned how much he could learn from this great woman, anticipating their conversations. What he did not consider was that he would never have the opportunity to say one word to her–there were always other people for her to meet. Finally, her tour was over, and she was scheduled to fly to New Guinea. The monk spoke desperately to Mother Teresa: If I pay my own fare to New Guinea, may I sit next to you on the plane so I can talk to you and learn from you? Mother Teresa looked at him: You have enough money to pay airfare to New Guinea? Yes, the monk replied. Then give that money to the poor. You’ll learn more from that than anything I can tell you. Mother Teresa had the audacity to believe that the gospel called her to make a difference to the poor. When Jesus begins his ministry in the gospel according to Luke, he joins the community at worship in the synagogue in Galilee. That sabbath morning, he reads from the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah, prophet of the Exile some 600 years before Jesus, when Israel is destroyed as a nation, its temple obliterated, its people carted off to Babylon to serve a foreign power. Isaiah, who prods his people to attend to the needs of the poor, the widow, the orphan. Isaiah, who recalls texts in Leviticus. These texts aren’t intended as guidelines they’re mandates for periodic economic upheavals, so that long-term consolidation of wealth into a few hands is prevented.[2,69] This is because the land belongs to no one but God. John and I have friends who quite literally have built their home in the Yakima valley...but they do not own the land it sits on. That land belongs to the Yakima Nation. Our friends don’t own that land, but they have leasing rights for 100 years. Jesus reads from this prophet Isaiah as he begins his ministry. But there’s more. Not only does Jesus read from Isaiah, but Isaiah is lifting up the imagery of the Jubilee year. Isaiah is lifting up a royal decree of amnesty, of rest, of liberty as a means of saying that God’s reign has begun. God’s reign, in which allegiance shifts from those systems and structures of the present order, to a new participation in God’s reign of justice and peace.[2,69] Jesus begins his ministry with that proclamation: Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing. Jesus has the audacity to voice a royal proclamation, grounded in the faith that God is speaking to him and through him, calling him to inaugurate a reign of justice and peace. Can you imagine!? Can you imagine the audacity of a faith that takes the word of God so seriously as to, in the words of Star Trek’s Jean-Luc Piccard, “make it so?!” Like the quip the aging often use, neither aging nor discipleship is for sissies. Ninety-something Chlorine Shufford “lives down a dirt road in a four-room house with bare wooden floors where she raised her children. She washes her clothes in a steel pot in the yard, and heats her house with an ancient potbellied stove in the middle of one room. [And she] has a bathroom with running water for the first time in her life. Before the lavatory was built onto the end of her home in September,...Shufford used a field next to the house.”[3] Shufford may live only 35 miles from Montgomery, but for her and others in the isolated Alabama community of Mosses, it’s a world away. Life has barely changed there in nearly a century. She now has indoor plumbing and running water because Sister Ann and the Edmundite Missions in Selma have the audacity to believe that God’s realm calls them to operate food kitchens and health clinics, to care for the elderly and repair homes in one of the poorest counties in the United States.[3] Gus Fahey is on the board of directors of the Peace Resource Center of Frederick County. That center is housed at cost in one of the buildings owned by Evangelical Reformed United Church of Christ in Frederick. In a visit to the Democratic Republic of Congo, Fahey met Agnes and George Lambadarios, a couple who now share a roof with more than 50 children. They are not wealthy people–their own four children share a bedroom with Agnes and George; the other children share the equivalent of a living room, dining room, and guest bedroom. The Lambadarios are doing what they can in the midst of great need–on proceeds from a hardware store.[4] In reflecting on the Lambadarios, Fahey writes that “a commitment to others has little to do with our resources. The barriers that stop us are primarily psychological,” then suggests that the first barrier is to acknowledge the problem. The Lambadarios identified the problem of street children in the Congo–and had the audacity to claim a role in addressing it. The second barrier is imagination–how best to apply our talents and resources. Frederick seamstress Joanie Jenkins heard the same news story two years ago that the rest of us have heard–“about ‘children of the night’. Every night, these children in northern Uganda, walk miles to the relative safety of urban areas to avoid nighttime raids by rebels. Joanie designed a sleeping bag that can be collapsed into a shoulder bag, lightweight and useful for carrying long distances. She found a women’s group in Uganda to test her prototype, then created more than 50 bags to help one village worth of kids get through the winter season.”[4] Joanie has the audacity to believe that she was called to make a difference to children half way around the world, and creatively used her talents and resources to do so. The third barrier is determination–or as my fifth grade teacher called it–perseverance. The Lambadarios’ have completely bound their lives to the children they are helping, using their resources and their talents in the most creative ways they can devise.[4] The internet is full of stories of individual teachers whose vision that even highly disadvantaged children can shine when given the resources and the confidence they need. The internet is equally full of stories of other individuals whose vision includes housing for every family, or medical care for every individual, or the preservation of a unique habitat to ensure the survival of some vanishing species. I believe these stories show the fruits of God’s holy spirit at work. In the same way, our gospels abound with stories of Jesus’ ministry of healing and releasing and recovering the last, the lost, the least as he claims that audacious faith that he is called to inaugurate the reign of God. The Mother Teresas, the Sister Anns, the Lambadarios, the Jenkins give heart and substance to that realm. And what about us? We know in our hearts that sharing resources and time and talent are part of our faith. We know in our hearts that squandering over $8 billion a month on war does nothing to promote or preserve the equality[4] essential to long-term peace. We know in our hearts that God’s restless spirit plants the seed of an audacious faith. In the inaugural address of Jesus’ ministry, we have our marching orders. May we be faithful disciples and live out an audacious faith. *** [1] from www.Sermons.com, no attribution on website. Luke 4.14-24. |