This is the third week in our four-week proclamation series,
“Them,” which focuses on social justice for those who have been marginalized by
society. We began this series on “All
Saints Sunday,” a Sunday set aside to remember our deceased loved ones. In that context, we looked at how we sometimes
marginalize those who are grieving the death of a loved one. Although we rally around our friends and
family for the funeral or memorial service, afterwards we quickly return to our
normal routines, emotionally abandoning those closest to the deceased, as they
continue grieving and adjusting to life without their loved one.
Last Sunday was Veteran’s Day, a day set aside to
remember and thank all of our military veterans who have served and sacrificed
for our country. In that context, we
looked at how, as a society, we frequently fail to provide the resources which
veterans need when they are discharged from the military and return to civilian
life. For instance, in Nebraska there
are 7,467 veterans who live below the poverty line and are at risk of being
food insecure.[1] As a country, we have failed to care for our
veterans after their service; marginalizing and ignoring them, instead. Similarly, as a country we marginalize the
mentally ill and elderly by failing to make desperately needed healthcare resources
available to them.
This Sunday, we turn our attention to another marginalized
group within our midst: the poor and
hungry. To ground our thinking about
justice and the hungry, I have selected the story of the woman with the
expensive ointment, as told in the Gospel of Mark:
While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper,
as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly
ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his
head. But some were there
who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment
could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given
to the poor.” And they scolded her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She
has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show
kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what
she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you,
wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will
be told in remembrance of her.”
While
dining at table in the house of Simon the leper, a woman of the household anointed
Jesus’ head with a costly bottle of “nard” – a costly oil. The woman’s gesture is tremendously generous,
as she breaks the jar and empties its entire contents of oil on Jesus’
head. In Hebrew tradition, kings were
anointed for leadership, signifying that they had been chosen by God. (See, for example, the story of Samuel
anointing Saul to be king in 1 Samuel 9:15-10:1, and also the anointing of David
to be king in 1 Samuel 16:1-13.) By
anointing Jesus, the woman conveys her believe that Jesus is the king of Israel;
the chosen Son of God. Since the bodies
of kings were anointed at their death, Jesus also sees a foreshadowing of his
own death in this ritualistic anointing with expensive oil.
Yet, some
of Jesus’ followers scold the woman for “wasting” the precious oil by anointing
Jesus. They believe that the woman
should have sold the precious oil and given the money to help the poor; perhaps
by providing the poor with food. Jesus
defends the woman and her gesture. He
says, “…you always have the poor with
you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always
have me.”
This
phrase, “you will always have the
poor with you,” has sometimes been a source of confusion for Christians. Does
Jesus really mean to say that there will always be poor and hungry people among
us? Does that mean that Christians are
not expected to help the poor and feed the hungry? Occasionally, some Christians will make that
argument. But, the claim that Christians
are not expected to help the poor and hungry is a gross misinterpretation and a
false teaching.
In uttering
this phrase, Jesus is citing a passage from Deuteronomy 15:11. The full verse
is as follows: “Since there will
never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open
your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’” When read in its entirety, this verse actually
underscores the vital importance for persons of faith to help the poor and
hungry. Jesus is not excusing his
followers from caring for the poor and hungry.
Instead, Jesus points out the importance of timing. Although Christians will always have the poor
and hungry to care for, there is only a short window of time in which Christ
will be present as the Son of Man. So,
even though the expensive oil could have been sold and the money given the poor
during normal times, these are not normal times. Instead, this is the moment in which Jesus is
with the disciples and the moment when the woman might make this generous
gesture.
I purposively
selected this scriptural passage as my text for a sermon on the hungry because
I think that it exposes an important temptation which middle-class, American
Christians must confront. It is
interesting that Jesus words, “you will always have the poor with you,” have sometimes
been mis-used as a rationale for doing nothing to help the poor. When we reflect carefully, what emerges is an
underlying assumption that a problem is not worthwhile to address if we cannot
completely solve it. Think about
it. If we provide a meal for a hungry
person today, is that action any less meaningful if there will be hungry
persons a thousand years from now? Is
the hungry person any less fed today, if another person is hungry a thousand
years from now? The answer is, of
course, no.
Still,
those of us who have worked at soup kitchens and food pantries know how hard
the work is. Even for those who are
passionate about helping the poor, the work can lead to:
Ø
Frustration
Ø
Burn
out
Ø
Depression
It seems as though helping the poor is always a case of
three steps forward and then two steps backward. Before long, one wants to throw up one’s
hands and give up.
In her
masterful text, A Feminist Ethic of Risk,
Sharon Welch argues that, since it has power and privilege, the American
middle-class assumes goals in life will be realized. These assumptions lead to a paralysis of will
when faced with complex social problems that cannot be solved individually. She writes, “It seems natural to many people,
when faced with a problem too big to be solved along or within the foreseeable
future, simply to do nothing. If one
cannot do everything to solve the problem of world hunger, for example, one
does nothing and even argues against partial remedies as foolhardy and deluded.”[2]
Welch elaborates
further on this insight when she writes:
“It is easier to give up on long-term social change when one is
comfortable in the present—when it is possible to have challenging work, excellent health care and housing, and access
to the fine arts. When the good life is
present or within reach, it is tempting to despair of its ever being in reach
for others and resort merely to enjoying it for oneself and one’s family.”[3] Welch makes a good point. It is easy to give up on meaningful social
change, when we already live the good life.
The middle-class get to live their lives of relative ease, regardless of
whether or not we institute needed social change that will alleviate hunger.
It is unchristian to give up on social
change that will feed the hungry, provide homes for the homeless, and
health care for those who suffer physically and mentally. Jesus does not ask us to eradicate hunger,
but he does tell us to work hard to feed those who are hungry today. We must also learn to see our work as part of
a greater whole. We are not the only
ones working to end hunger and alleviate poverty. We have predecessors who came before us and
we need to acknowledge that we are building upon the foundations that our
predecessors built for us.
Further, to
work to end hunger must also entail doing more than the ministries of serving
others by working in soup kitchens or food pantries—as important as those
are. A justice issue also arises when we
fail to provide food for the hungry.
This is especially true in the domestic United States, which is the richest,
most affluent country in the history of the world. If we are truly concerned about the hungry,
then we will be wise stewards of our American citizenship encourage our
policymakers to provide more and more assistance for the hungry, until we have
eliminated hunger in our country. In
addition to writing our legislators, this also includes financially supporting
groups like Bread for the World, a faith-based organization dedicated to urging
our nation’s decision-makers to end hunger at home and abroad.
If you live in the Lincoln, Nebraska area and do not have a
place of worship, then I invite you to come and join us at Christ United
Methodist Church this Sunday, November 18th, as we reflect on justice for the
poor and hungry. As part of my
reflections, I intend to challenge our congregation to fast for 12 hours this
week, in solidarity with the poor and hunger.
Even if you cannot attend our worship this Sunday, I challenge each of
you, my readers, to commit to a 12-hour fast sometime this week, in solidarity
with the poor and hungry. During the
service, we will also be receiving a special offering for the work of Bread for
the World. Again, if you cannot attend
our worship service, I encourage everyone to financially support Bread for the
World. You can contribute directly online
by going to their website, http://www.bread.org/,
and clicking on “Donate.” Christ UMC is
located at 4530 “A” Street in Lincoln, Nebraska. Our two traditional Worship Services are at
8:30 and 11:00 on Sunday morning.
Come, join us. Everyone is welcome and accepted because God
loves us all.
[1] Bread for the World, “Ending
Hunger in Nebraska [Fact Sheet],” accessed online at: http://files.bread.org/state-fact-sheets/2018/nebraska.pdf?_ga=2.232057567.1560806623.1542495758-1360249376.1541692227,
6 September 2018.
[2] Sharon Welch, A Feminist Ethic of Risk, Revised
Edition (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,
2000), 17.
[3] Ibid., 41.
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