Scripture
Luke 13:1-9 Common English Bible Version
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and
your labor for that which does not satisfy?
This familiar question greeted me when I started to study the
texts for today’s sermon, because I have used it over and over again in my
work.
Just a little about me: I grew up not too far away in
Crystal Lake and now live in Chicago. I’m a candidate for ministry in the
UCC and I know Pastor Alex because he served on the Candidacy committee as I
journeyed through the process.
But over the last few years, much of my career and expression of
faith has occurred through my work at an agency with a looong name. It is a partnership between Advocate Health Care and the University
of Illinois at Chicago’s Community Engagement department, and it is called the
Center for Faith and Community Health Transformation—conveniently referred to as just “The Center”. Reflecting on the scripture
this morning, I can’t help but weave small details of our work at “the Center”
into how this scripture speaks to me and through me. Health and faith are
intimately entwined, and the work at the Center is based on the recognition of
that fact.
In faith communities, our Christian faith calls us to serve the
needs of the least among us and we do it well—visiting the sick, hosting
Anonymous groups, offering meal programs, providing emergency care and
comfort---all of these services on both an individual and a community basis. We at The Center strive to
build connections between faith communities and health programming; we develop
leaders in congregations, and we offer resources and support for health
initiatives. The Center exists because we recognize that congregations are
already supporting healing and wholeness in their communities through basic
social connection and support. As
individuals, much of our health status results from the environment in which we
live, and faith communities can act as a healing balm and a first line of
defense against the socio-economic determinants of health. At the Center,
we know that faith-rooted collaboration brings a unique spirit power to any
effort, and has the potential to be transformative not only for individuals but
for the larger community.
(Ok, now that I’ve gotten that commercial out of the way… it’s
hard to describe the Center in brief…)
My work with the Center focuses on inspiring healthy eating and
active living as related to disease prevention – to help people analyze how
faith and religious tradition informs our eating habits. Because we
are in an unprecedented time of people not thinking about
eating. For the first time in human history, we have unlimited access to
compact, portable, highly processed and high-calorie food, and the concept of
‘eating on the run’, ‘refueling’, or ‘grabbing on the go’ has taken root in how
we eat.
In contrast, sharing a meal has long been an important religious
tradition. From the Manna God sent from Heaven to sustain the Israelites,
to the Last Supper, to slaughtering a fatted calf; sharing meals has been how
we as a people have marked occasions, celebrated loves ones, and shown
gratitude to God. And we continue to echo these important traditions
today – with Holy Communion in Christianity, Passover in Judaism, Rosh
Hashannah in the Muslim faith – and of course, Thanksgiving.
We actually have a curriculum called “Just Eating” which is used
in the training of congregations, and Prophet Isaiah’s words are used in an exercise called
Lectio Divina. In a Lectio Divina, a
specific scripture is spoken aloud – a
sort of repetitive group reflection asking questions like, ‘how is God calling
to you through this scripture?’ As you can imagine, this Isaiah text resonates
deeply.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and
your labor for that which does not satisfy? Come to the waters, even you
without money; come, eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.
How does this text speak to you?
Today we are in the 3rd Sunday in Lent.
The Christian season of Lent is often depicted as a time when we wrestle with
temptation and discipline; we are challenged to give up something we love, and
then struggle against the hold it has on us. Some people relate this to
the temptations of Christ during this time; others talk about it as a time to
think about how attached we are to the material world over the spiritual world.
In our Gospel, we hear Jesus encourage people to ‘repent’.
He tells us life is precarious, it is uncertain – we have no way to know when
tragedy might befall us. Responding with urgency, Jesus encourages us to seize
the moment to turn away from our bad habits, our bad qualities. Right?
Actually, scholars have called this translation – repent –
as an extraordinary mis-translation of the original Greek term,
‘Metanoia’. Whereas ‘repent’ is often associated with guilt, shame,
regret, or apology, Metanoia is closer to the word metamorphosis. Meta means
change, and noia denotes thinking or mindset. Metanoia
is about personal and comprehensive transformation in the way we see ourselves
and the world.
Jesus is calling his followers to do a whole-scale
transformation of their perceptions. Stop looking for people to blame to
avoid looking inward, he says. It was not Divine retribution responsible
for the violence against Galileans or the collapse of the tower of
Siloam. Life itself is precarious – but while you yet have life, itself a
gift from God, transform yourselves so you can produce fruits of the spirit and
be gifts to others.
I look at Lent as a time of invitation – and invitation to
thirst. Thirst and hunger for God. Lent calls us to "seek the Lord" and to "call
upon him.” The invitation, though, is to do more than simply drink from
the waters. It is to participate in the work of God. The transformation
that is requested is directed at more than simply our personal temptation or
discipline. God invites us to begin a transformation in our interior
selves, but that change continues in our thoughts, words and deeds. This type
of transformation has implications for all of God's world. Each effort towards metanoia has
ripple effects on those around us. In my work, taking a serious look at
considering our bodies holy, and considering what we put in our body as sacred,
often leads people to look at what food they are offering at their food pantry
or community dinner. It may transform the way we choose to feed each
other, and the time we put into our meal preparation – whether that be for
low-income strangers or our own grandkids. Through this personal transformation, we are
encouraged to nourish others on their journey.
So I want to invite you to do something a little unorthodox – to
participate in my sermon. In the Just
Eating Curriculum, we ask what you consider a “holy meal.” What makes a meal ‘holy’ or sacred to
us? Why?
What about that meal was nourishing?
Turn to your neighbor in the next two minutes an share when you
felt you had a ‘holy meal’ and what it was that made it holy.
I don’t want to stand up here and pretend that it’s only food
that matters. Are there distractions in our lives that get in the way of
being nourished? Are we consuming things that do not satisfy?
Last week, I heard Pastor Alex introduce your new music director,
and at coffee hour I heard him share some innovative ideas for how to do choir
and make it fit into our busy lives. I did a lot of music when I was
young – I was actually in band with Brent in high school. And my church had
one of the best choirs in our town. It was more rigorous than the choral
program at school, and it kept me in church every Sunday during the school year–
sometimes in both services! Music was the constant for me for all of
those formative years – singing every Wednesday and Sunday and attending band
at school Everyday.
Since leaving home, I haven’t had the opportunity to integrate
music into my life with regularity. I joined a Chicago band for a year,
and a church until I moved away. I missed it but didn’t think it
mattered. It wasn’t until I was far along in Seminary that I started to
detect the connection for me between music and God.
Have you ever been to an arid, hot part of the world where you see
signs that say, "'Stop! Drink water. You are thirsty, whether you realize
it or not.'" Sometimes we don’t realize how thirsty we are.
I started to notice whenever I was in church or chapel at school,
or especially when I’d visit home and attend church with my parents, that in
the middle of a song for absolutely no reason at all – I’d often start to weep.
It’s the oddest thing….and kind of embarrassing because it’s pretty hard to
sing when you are crying! I tried to figure what was causing this… but
eventually I realized it was, simply, prayer. For me, singing is the
purest form of prayer. It is the most beautiful way I can participate in
praising and communing with God. I thirst for it in a way that I only recognize
when I get close to church. Its transformative; it brings me an internal
type of joy that I cannot replicate in any other way, because it was so closely
entangled with my religious experiences as a child. Obviously, I was
thirsting for a spiritual connection without even realizing I was parched.
In your life, how are you fed? ... physically fed, but also
emotionally, spiritually and mentally? What are you thirsty for? Where is your joy? What do you have in
your life that brings you closer to God, or farther away? There is something inherent in our faith
that is transformative…it had better change you and change the world, and if
it’s not changing you and not changing the world, then it’s not the
gospel. During this time in Lent, God invites us to reflect on how we are nourishing ourselves
and nourishing the world. Rather than fill your time with that which keeps you busy
or occupied but unfulfilled, why not reflect on how to delight on that which is
good, and that which adds goodness to the world?
