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| Irene prepares expansive lunch that feeds our hearts |
Sermon for November 23, 2014
Proper 29A, Last Sunday
After
Pentecost
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse
St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish,
Tucson, AZ
For readings click here
Lord, open our lips
That our mouth shall proclaim
your praise. Amen
A
few years ago,
a
friend of mine told me about a book.
She
swears this book saved her marriage.
It’s
called The Five Love Languages,
by
Gary Chapman.
The
premise of the book is that each person
has
a primary love language and
we
must learn to speak their language
if
we want that person to feel our love.
The
five languages are:
First,
“words of affirmation.”
In
this language,
spoken
praise and appreciation
to
your loved one
is
like rain on parched soil.
Second,
“acts of service.”
In
this language,
actions
speak louder than words and
even
tiny acts are hugely important
to
your loved one.
Third,
“receiving gifts.”
In
this language,
it
is the thought that counts.
Even
a single cheerful flower
can
mean the world to your loved one.
Fourth,
“quality time.”
In
this language,
undivided
attention
(with
the TV off and consistent eye contact)
displays
the depth of your love.
Fifth,
“physical touch.”
In
this language,
physical
connection demonstrates true love,
everything
from a hand
on
your loved one’s shoulder
to
a deep embrace.
Of
course, most of us express or desire
a
combination of these five basic love languages.
Words
of affirmation, acts of service,
receiving
gifts, quality time or physical touch.
In
today’s gospel,
Jesus
taught the disciples
the
basic love languages
spoken
in the Kingdom of God.
And Jesus taught the
disciples
to
whom
these love languages
were
to be expressed.
The
parable served as a “last lecture”
for
the disciples, culminating
the
climactic ending
of
Jesus’ speech about the “end times” –
about
what happens in eternity to
the
“sheep” who express the love languages,
the
“goats” who do not, and
“to
whom” they expressed it.
These
works of mercy were, for Jesus,
the
basic love languages:
food
for the hungry, drink for the thirsty,
welcome
for the stranger, clothing for the naked,
care
for the sick, and
visitation
for the imprisoned.
Express
this love language, Jesus taught,
to
“me” - because
“I
appear to you in the form of any need.”
That was the
wisdom that Jesus shared.
He
intended the disciples
to
imitate his concern for the poor and needy.
And
Jesus intends for us
to
imitate his concern for the poor and needy,
through
his love languages.
Feeding,
watering, welcoming,
clothing,
caring, and visiting.
“When
you did it to one of the least of these
my
brothers and sisters, members of my family,
you
did it to me.”
In
serving the most vulnerable and needy
among
us,
we
serve our Lord
through
his love languages without words.
In
this teaching,
Jesus
proposes a radical new social structure
where
our King is found not in strength or power,
but
in the “least”–
the
people who are poor, vulnerable, needy.
When
we imitate Jesus’ concern and service
for
the poor and needy,
our
lives overflow with richness and meaning.
When
we express the love language of Jesus,
our
hearts burst with compassion and joy.
When
we feed, water, welcome, clothe, care for and visit our neighbors,
we
are living God’s dream.
For
God’s reign happens right now,
in
the present,
not
through power, but
by
deeds of love, mercy and compassion,
especially
toward those least powerful.
Jesus’
“last lecture”
can
makes us very uncomfortable
if
we think about it much.
We
cannot help everyone.
We
do not have endless time or money.
So
what can we do?
Well,
two things:
First,
we can “speak” the six love languages:
Offering
food, drink, welcome,
clothing,
care and visitation.
Second,
we can notice the people around us
who
are “least” – and recognize that person may be us.
A
few years ago, I travelled to
the
city of Juarez (MX) and
visited
Centro Santa Catalina,
a
women’s sewing coop
run
by a nun from El Paso,
situated
on the city landfill.
We
visited CSC and got to know
the
Juarez women who came everyday
with
their children & grandchildren
to
their community-run school, who sewed beautiful garments together every morning
and shared bible stories many afternoons.
One
day at noon,
Irene
invited us to visit her home for lunch.
We
trekked along a landfill pathway,
across
broken glass, bits of trash and old tires
to
the little housing enclave
just
across the way, still on the landfill.
We
sat in her kitchen,
one
of four rooms in her house.
When
she opened the fridge,
the
only thing in there was
a
small bottle of ketchup and a coke.
We
sat and tried to talk to each other
(we
spoke very little Spanish,
her
English was about as good).
Her
grandson came in and
we
saw her give him a few pesos
so
that he could buy queso to go with
the
lavish beans & rice & enchilada lunch
that
Irene was able to feed us
from
her meager pantry.
We
were fed not only by the delicious food,
but
by her expansive hospitality.
We
drank her living water of hope
that
life would get better,
through
her grandchildren,
and
through this community
of
which she had become a part.
Irene
welcomed us to her home and to her world, without shame and with dignity.
After
lunch, the joy of her family erased
any
fear of danger (so public in the media),
as
we laughed out loud
practicing
each others’ language
with
her grandchildren.
She
clothed us in the light of her faith
as
she offered a silent, toothy smile
to
our mutual inability
to
really hold a conversation.
In
that lunch, amidst that poverty, Irene showed us the face of the incarnate God,
full of faith, hope and love.
When
we speak the love languages of Jesus and notice who around us is “least” – we
best stand back for our encounter with God is certain.
Who
is the least, right here, right now?
In
every moment, who is the poor, the needy?
Is
it the woman
in
the grocery store line
who
is hungry for Love,
and
asking you listen to her story?
Is
it the man at work,
thirsty
for hope,
asking
that you share how
God
is doing a new thing in your life?
Is
it the stranger
inside
each of us –
that
unnamed fear,
that
surprising upwelling of grief,
that
vulnerable side of us?
Is
it the stranger to our country, the immigrant or refugee trying to make a
better life for their family?
Is
it the friend who is “sick”
with
outrage at our political process?
Is
it the “prisoner” in each of us,
the
one who is locked in ways of thinking,
or
frozen in strong convictions
or
held captive by righteous indignation?
When
we love those who are “least”
we
are in the good company of Dorothy Day,
who
established the Catholic Worker Movement
in
the 1930s. In her essay, “Love is the Measure”[1]
She
wrote,
“There
is nothing we can do but love,
and
dear God,
please
enlarge our hearts to love each other,
to
love our neighbor,
to
love our enemy as well as our friend.”
Dorothy
knew the love language of Jesus –
the
language that Jesus intended
the
disciples to imitate.
The
disciples learned in this “last lecture”
about
God’s expansive hope in their lives.
which
transformed even the bumbling,
very
human,
fearful
disciples
into
full-blown apostles.
And
so it is for us.
Do
you want to experience God’s presence?
Speak
the language of Love to “the least.”
And
stand back,
for
you will be transformed
by
God’s power working in your life.
The
good news today is that
God
transforms us by
feeding
us with love and forgiveness
in
our human mistakes
offering
us a cool drink of empathy
and
compassion when we share our stories
always
welcoming us
to
return again and again
to
prayer after being away
clothing
us in the light of creative hope
when
all others are at wits’ end
caring
for us through the presence of another
when
we have any dis-ease.
and
visiting
us with perspective when we are “imprisoned.”
God
reveals God’s self to anyone who is
the
“least.”
In
a world that seems too big to change,
our
lives,
given
away
through
Jesus’
love language,
have
more meaning and value
than
we can possibly imagine,
because
that’s where Jesus meets us.
That’s
where
Jesus reveals his true kingly power and sovereign strength
That’s
where
we – bumbling, human,
fearful
disciples
are
transformed into full-blown apostles.
Where?
In
the least of these…
Amen
[1] Except from Dorothy Day’s By
Little and By Little: The Selected Writings of Dorothy Day as cited by Colman
McCarthy in The Class of Nonviolence.
