Generosity

Luke 20:27-38

So the Stewardship Team asked me to preach on the value of generosity this week.  And I am glad to do that.  We’re all here because we’ve had some kind of experience with God’s generosity towards us.  In Jesus Christ, God lavishes us with excessive, extravagant love.  And we respond by learning to become generous people in our own small ways.  At first I thought I would just ditch the Luke passage that was scheduled for the day and find something more appropriate.  But then I read it through two or three times.  And I thought, “No, this is perfect.  This passage can express why so many of us are committed to the mission of this congregation.”  So stick with me for a minute. 

 

Luke 20:27-38

We are supposed to criticize the Sadducees for their difficulty in believing in the resurrection.  And we are to criticize them for trying to trap Jesus for a trick question.  We can even criticize them for their wealth and their lack of interest in the poor, who are the ones who tend to hope for resurrection and a new age.  But what if we celebrate the church’s ministry of asking difficult questions, of pressing into the difficulty of imagining something like resurrection or new age?  It’s not a crazy question.  It’s exaggerated for comic effect.  Seven brothers marry the same wife, and then they all die.  How is this going to work out in the resurrection?  Won’t this be kind of awkward? 

So I know what we’re supposed to do.  We’re supposed to gang up on the Sadducees and cheer for Jesus as if we’re always, obviously, on his side.  But what if we took responsibility for the kind of faith community we actually are – a people full of questions, trying to believe, trying to see the light, to live in the light of the coming dawn – but always failing and foundering, and needing lots of help from the Spirit?  What if we saw in these not very faithful Sadducees people just like us – people who are trying to love God but who have a hard time fitting all the pieces together?

Jesus’ answer is nothing short of stunning.  He offers us a crash course in how to imagine something utterly new.  Marriage only matters in “this age.”  But for those taking part in the “coming age,” marriage won’t hold, won’t apply, won’t obtain.  They “will neither marry nor be given in marriage.”  What???  What about our talk of grandma going to be with grandpa?  What about our hope to spend eternity with our beloved spouses and loved ones? 

They are “like the angels” says Jesus, and “children of the resurrection,” never to die again.  Angels don’t have sexed bodies or gendered identities.  They don’t mate or reproduce or pair up by any particular conventions.  They are utterly embodied flame, radically pure and unadulterated praise, built to sing and pray in unending joy and festivity, playful and shot through with desire and love.  Jesus says that glorified, resurrected bodies won’t be male or female, but pure flame, pure praise, pure love.  The bonds between all these glorified bodies will be so utterly intimate that no special bonds will be imaginable.  The intimacy of marriage won’t be required, because all of creation will be involved in a glorious and joyful dance of love.

As our reflection on today’s gospel reading demonstrates, one of our central strengths as a congregation is our deep curiosity, our sense of wonder at the mystery of being alive, our argumentative and questioning form of belief, our willingness to wrestle with the good news of Scripture as people who are called to use our minds to think critically.  To be a part of a community that fosters these values is no small thing.  I’m not saying we do it perfectly.  But I will say that, unfortunately, many faith communities don’t value this work at all.

One of the reasons we give generously to support the ministries of the congregation is that we need to belong to a community that inspires us to stay open and flexible, to keep asking the largest and most profound questions.  We need to stay connected to a tradition that warns us not to close down, but to stay curious, to keep our eyes open, to nourish our sense of wonder and amazement at the world around us.

But things around us are changing.  The rhythms of life that nurtured congregations and weekly worship for generations no longer hold.  How will we find a way to survive and flourish as a healthy community of God’s good news into the 21^st century? It might help to imagine ourselves as elephants, or as mountain climbers.

Researchers studying elephant behavior in Namibia discovered that elephants know where all the watering holes are.  It was long assumed that the elephants just wandered around the savannah, eating and playing, and then moved toward watering holes when they got close enough to see them or at least close enough to hear the wildlife at the watering hole.  But by tracking the elephants, scientists discovered that the elephants don’t wander at all.  They know exactly where they’re going.  They are able to keep track of where the nearest watering holes are.  They don’t wander haphazardly.  They forage and then when they’re ready to drink, they turn and head straight for the nearest watering hole.  They are able to do this because they have a special kind of spatialized memory.  Elephants know where the nearest watering hole is even if it’s 50km (30 miles) away.

Now switch gears to mountain climbing.  If you want to climb Mount Everest, you don’t just show up.  You have to register for a license, and climb under the guidance of a local company that handles the logistics.  This past year, about 400 people tried to climb Mount Everest.  Every year, a pop-up city is built at the bottom of the world’s tallest mountain.  Everest Base Camp is located at the foot of the Khumbu Glacier, on the south side of Everest.  It takes mountaineers a full week just to hike to the base camp (unless they are rich and are delivered by helicopter).

The base camp is pitched at about 17,500 feet above sea level.  That’s important, because humans can’t survive for very long above 18,000 feet.  Somewhere between 18-19,000 feet, the human body begins to decay and life is not sustainable.  A well-provisioned base camp is an absolute necessity for anyone trying to summit Everest.  From camp, they can wait for the right weather and make a dash for the peak, knowing that they have to return to camp within a three to five day window if they want to survive. 

“The fanciest commercial outfitters now provide walk-in wall tents with beds, unlimited electricity through gasoline generators, hot showers, strong reliable Wi-Fi, projectors for after-dinner movies, and even dedicated tents for yoga and stretching. But such creature comforts don’t come cheap. The most luxurious operators charge upwards of $100,000; while budget outfits cost between $25,000 - $40,000.”

“Many large expeditions have their own doctors embedded with the teams. . . . If you have a serious medical issue, it’s imperative to leave base camp as quickly as possible and descend to lower altitude.  At the Khumbu Glacier base camp, the Himalayan Rescue Association’s “Everest ER” provides walk-in services; patients with serious issues are evacuated via helicopter to Kathmandu as quickly as possible.” (nationalgeographic.com)

We value generosity because God shares all things with us generously.  But we also value generosity because we give gladly to the projects that are meaningful to us.  And if you’re like me, you need a watering hole and a base camp.

We just came through a rather noisy and energetic local election.  Congratulations to those who were elected to serve.  At the first candidates’ forum at the Ellis Center some months back, someone pointed out to me that the vast majority of the people on the stage were connected to our congregation.  The people asked to moderate the forum were Presbyterian.  Several leaders of YPL were Presbyterians.  And so was the leadership of the Chamber.  I had to laugh to myself.  How could it be that such a small congregation was so disproportionately represented in a forum that had everything to do with community service and civic participation?  How could it be that such an insignificant little group of people represented such a bold expression of public energy aimed at fostering the well-being of our wider community?  

We have people who are caring for family, friends and neighbors.  We have people driving others to doctor appointments.  We have people serving as leaders on boards of organizations that make a huge difference.  We have people reading to children in our schools who need extra attention.  We have people serving as CASA volunteers for at risk young people.  We have people leading in our community’s Next Steps Program and providing childcare.  We have people mentoring teens in our High School.  We have people cooking for each other, writing encouraging notes, and praying for each other.  Are all these people in worship every week?  No, not always.  You don’t measure congregations by their size.  You measure them by the light and the love that shine from them.  You won’t always find all those who belong to the church here at the church.  Sometimes they’re out climbing mountains.  But they do return here to basecamp when they need supplies, or when they need to rest.

Recently I took communion to a member of our congregation who has dementia.  “We received communion yesterday in worship,” I said.  “Can I serve you communion?”  “Yes,” she said.  And so I took out my kit – put a wafer on a little plate, poured from my flask into a little cup.  And then I recited the familiar words about Jesus taking bread and cup and offering it to the disciples and I prayed.  I served the bread and the cup and prayed again.  And when I was finished, she said.  “I’ve never done this before.  But I love this.  This is beautiful.”  She has been receiving communion for her whole life.  But because her short-term memory was fading, she couldn’t remember – in an explicit way – participating in this ritual of feeding on Christ.  And yet something else – something deep in her body and experience told her that these elements were nourishment for our strongest desires.  I assume that it was the presence of the Spirit in her life that welcomed this ritual of communion.  She’s like an elephant who still knows where to find water.

I drive a 2003 Acura with 140,000 miles that I bought from my mother in law five years ago for $6,000.  I added up in my head the money our family has given in pledges in the seven years we’ve been here.  And then I jumped online, just to see what kind of car we could have bought if we’d kept that money for ourselves.  (I could be driving a brand new BMW, Mercedes, or Volvo).  Did I wince a little when I realized that?  Yep, I did.  I like nice things as much as anyone else.  But after that split second, it became very clear to me that our family is much happier living the way we’re living.

Some of the money I spend isn’t that fun.  It just goes out, and it even has a little resentment with it.  I don’t like putting gas in my car, but I have to.  I don’t like paying for our family’s cellphone plan, but that’s just life.  I don’t enjoy paying our property taxes.  I do all of that out of a sense of duty.

One of our close friends emailed us a few years ago about his Kickstarter project for a pizza startup in Minneapolis that would function as an employment center for people released from prison.  We gave immediately and gladly.  Here was a project that carried all the things we value: risk, creativity, care, social justice – all being done by a person we love deeply.  When you give generously to something you believe in, a team effort where you’re making a real contribution to making the world a little better – you never miss the money.  Well, not much.

The graphic for today is a hand offering a penny.  I wanted something that would convey the truth that every gift matters.  Every contribution counts.  We have a couple of young people who pledge on their own – apart from their families – and those are smaller amounts.  But they count.  They are part of the way God provides for us.  And they express young lives being shaped by the good news story of generosity and sharing as the path to real joy and satisfaction in life.

As I hope you can tell from my tone of voice, I am not trying to convince anyone to do anything.  I’m the pastor for a congregation full of generous, faithful people.  And I’m trying my best to remind us to keep up the good work.  I’m trying to remind us that there is great joy in sharing what we have.  May God bless you and provide for you and your family in the coming year as you give what you can.