Days of Feast and Famine

NOVEMBER IS THE MONTH of remembrance and thanksgiving. It begins with the Feasts of All Saints (Nov. 1) and All Souls (Nov. 2), when Christians honor holy women and men. What does it mean to be holy? Too often, we think of holiness as an impossible task—we equate it with a scrupulous perfectionism none of us can attain. That is an easy, and spiritually immature, excuse not to ponder what holiness might mean for us. To be holy is to be one with God. As people of faith, we are all called to holiness. It is something that we grow into as we grow in our relationship with God, others, and ourselves.

The women and men whose names we sing in the Litany of the Saints (as well as the names of our loved ones who we might add to that litany) were not angels. They were humans, like you and me. However, we remember them because their lives witnessed to God’s loving presence in our midst. We, too, are called to witness to this grace. The readings for this month remind us that becoming holy will demand much of us. It requires that we “love the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our might” (Deuteronomy 6:5) and that we “love our neighbor as we love ourselves” (Mark 12:31). They also promise us that God “will show [us] the path of life” (Psalm 16:11) and “fullness of joy” as we tend to God’s “kin-dom.”

[ November 4 ]

Beware Shiny Gods

Deuteronomy 6:1-9; Psalm 119:1-8; Hebrews 9:11-14; Mark 12:28-34

OUR READINGS begin with the words of the Jewish Shema: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5). Immediately, the scripture reminds us that God is to be the center of our lives. But how do we make God the center of our lives? In a world where distractions abound—where there is always some new and shiny god being launched for the low, low price of $29.99 per month—how do we love God with all our hearts, souls, and might? While the shiny false gods might be easy to identify and avoid, how do we genuinely attend to the variety of “competing goods” (as my colleague the ethicist calls them) in our lives? How do we balance time for prayer with time for family, friends, ministry, work, and self-care?

In Mark’s gospel, Jesus adds on to the Shema, stating that the second great commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31). Perhaps this is a clue as to how we can make God the center of our lives while also attending to our competing goods: Namely, we can see that God is always already at the center of those goods. After all, God is what makes them good! This does not mean that we do not commit to the discipline of prayer, but it does mean that the overall goal of prayer is to make us aware of the ever-present God in our midst. Imagine: What would that Monday morning board meeting look like if we really believed that God was present there? How about those 3 a.m. newborn feedings and endless diaper changes? Or that friend going through a divorce who just needs someone to listen? What if we really saw each of those moments, each of those people, as encounters with the living God? Perhaps then we might be able to say, “I am loving the Lord my God with all my heart, all my soul, and all my might. And I am loving my neighbor as myself.”

[ November 11 ]

Caring for Widows

1 Kings 17:8-16; Psalm 146; Hebrews 9:24-28; Mark 12:38-44

THE WIDOWS IN this week’s reading who trust that God will provide for them are inextricably tied to our call to care for those who are marginalized in our own communities. In 1 Kings, Elijah asks a widow to share her food with him—food that she is painstakingly saving for her son and herself. She and her son are starving; this is likely their last meal since after it she claims they will “die” (1 Kings 17:12). But Elijah tells her “do not be afraid” and promises that God will provide for her, her son, and Elijah—she just needs to trust that God will turn her limitations into abundance (verse 13). She trusts, and God provides (verses 15-16). Do we trust that God will also turn our limitations into abundance? But how does God do this? The World Health Organization estimates that poor nutrition results in nearly half (45 percent) of deaths in children under age 5 each year. Why doesn’t God refill their “jar of meal” and “jug of oil” (verse 16)?

Lest we think the readings for this week glorify poverty—as if prayer without action for systemic reform will end world hunger and other socioeconomic injustices—we need to pay close attention to Jesus’ comments in Mark’s gospel. In it, Jesus criticizes the religious elite of his time for being oblivious to the plight of the socioeconomically poor. “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation” (Mark 12:38-40). Jesus is clear: If we have any privileges, then we are to use them in service to the “widows” among us! While it is unlikely that we will end world hunger and poverty on our own, we should nevertheless imitate the widows in these readings: We should give everything we have, trusting that God will turn our limitations into abundance—the abundance that is collective action toward justice.

[ November 18 ]

We Are New

Daniel 12:1-3; Psalm 16; Hebrews 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8

DEATH AND salvation are prominent themes here. In Daniel, we hear that “there shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence” (12:1). We are also reassured that “those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever” (verse 3). Jesus talks about suffering and death as he foretells the destruction of the temple in Mark’s gospel. He warns, “For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13: 8). Although both texts have a doomsday gloom about them, they are examples of apocalyptic literature and rhetoric that were (and are) meant to instill hope in their listeners. They remind people who are suffering and oppressed that God will not abandon them.

As the letter to the Hebrews states, “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful” (10:23). The early Christians thought the Second Coming would happen in their lifetimes. They believed that they were living in the end times. Today, some argue that we are living in the end times. We certainly see “nation rising against nation,” “earthquakes,” and “famines,” and some might say we are living in “a time of anguish, such as has never occurred” before. Yet these scriptures show us that, unfortunately, war, natural disasters, and anguish of all sorts have occurred before. They are not new. We are new. We are what has not happened before and will not happen again. The scriptures challenge us to make sure that these atrocities do not continue after us. They “show [us] the path of life” (Psalm 16:11) by urging us to push against all that devastates and destroys. Let the birthing begin.

[ November 25 ]

A Different Kind of King

Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; Psalm 93; Revelation 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37

ROYALTY IS USUALLY associated with power and wealth, pomp and circumstance. Here at the closing of the liturgical year at the Feast of Christ the King, these readings make it very clear that Jesus is not that kind of king. When Pilate asks Jesus if he is “King of the Jews,” Jesus responds: “‘My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.’ Pilate asked him, ‘So you are a king?’ Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice’” (John 18:36-37).

It’s easy to presume that Pilate was not satisfied with Jesus’ answer; it was not from this world—the world where being a king means overpowering others rather than empowering them. Throughout his ministry and in his suffering, death, and resurrection, Jesus models for us a different way of leading. He engages the outcasts of his society, daring to recognize the presence of God in prostitutes, tax collectors, and widows. He chastises his disciples when they start arguing about which one of them is going to sit on his left and on his right—it’s not about prestige, guys! He heals the sick and welcomes little children. Then he preaches about a kingdom where “the last shall be first, and the first shall be last.” Not the kind of thing proclaimed by people in power who are interested in keeping their power. But Jesus proclaims this and more.

As we celebrate this reign of Christ, let us ponder how Jesus understood the “kingdom of God.” As mujerista theologian Ada María Isasi-Díaz argues, when we consider Jesus’ use of the “kingdom” metaphor, it might be helpful to see this “kingdom” more in terms of a “kin-dom.” Jesus is talking about a new world, a new kinship and way of being in relationship with each other and with God.

“Preaching the Word,” Sojourners’ online resource for sermon preparation and Bible study, is available at sojo.net/ptw.