Taste and See

Proper 17

September 2, 2012

James 1:16-27

          Reading today’s epistle could be viewed (and trust me is tempting to be viewed) as a how to manual—a mother’s wisdom book, a hallmark book of inspirational quotes, or a basic psychology handbook—“don’t say anything if you can’t say something nice,” “practice what you preach,” or “active listening means being fully engaged with the speaker and not thinking ahead to what you want to say.”  Very tempting to view it this way; and frankly, I’m certain we could all benefit from listening to that advice.  And yet this epistle, this epistle that at times has been scoffed at by astute theologians (think Martin Luther), I believe is indeed the core of our faith—this epistle speaks to not only how we as Christians ought to behave, but it places us on the stand and asks, “do you really and truly to your core believe the words you say each week in church? Does your Sunday morning faith in anyway connect to your Monday morning, Tuesday morning, Wednesday morning (you get the picture) life? Or, do you convince yourself, deceive yourself it says, that it’s important but these times require other ways of living in order to survive. Do we believe what we say here in church but leave and allow ourselves to be swept up by the views of the world and deceive ourselves into believing or falling back into the practices that the culture around us espouses?  I believe the heart of this could be boiled down to, do we live by, do I live by, do you live by the law of scarcity as the world does, or do you live by the law of abundance—the abundance of God’s grace, of God’s love, of God’s great gifts?  

          The passage begins today warning us not to be deceived, but rather to accept, and to live out the belief that all gifts come from God—why is that important?  Because if we truly believe that, and if we as Christians believe that we must embody our beliefs, then we must live as gifts to other people—we must be the first fruits, the blessings to others.  We must live not in the fear that we won’t have enough—enough of anything—and instead live bestowing upon others the same love and grace that God bestows upon us.

          The world operates very much on this law of scarcity, and the law of scarcity operates on making certain that we live in fear—the fear of not having enough, of being left out.  Ya’ll know I have two middle and two high school children (yes your prayers would be much appreciated)—and so I’ve had for several years a front row seat into the dynamics of pre-teens and teens, and this law of scarcity festers just below the surface in their relationships; it fosters fear, and that fear propels teens, propels all people, to behave in ways to assure that I have enough, that I’m not left out.    It is important to have a BEST friend, the triangulation that goes on making certain they’re in a group, they’re included—the true pain of feeling like if that person A invites person B over and not me, do I have no friends, no support, no one to love me?  And so they back stab, and they manipulate, and they do all the other things that we dread when we think about middle schoolers.  I wonder if any of us have ever truly left middle school?

          Our faith, however, teaches the opposite, it says that God has enough love and grace for All of us—each and every person in this building, in this city, and in this world. If we really believe that to our core, does that change how we treat others?  Should that not influence us, insist that we be loving and kind and inclusive, and graceful to all because there is enough?

          When we live in a world built around the law of scarcity, we live with an endless pit in our stomach; we live in constant fear.  I believe that fear is very often the root of our quick tongues and our anger.  That fear motivates us to always be thinking and doing one step ahead of everyone else—and that, my friends, is largely what prevents true honest listening—listening from the heart.  Listening to and living from the law of scarcity prevents us from not only passing on God’s grace and love, but even from experiencing it fully ourselves.

          I have another tale to tell on myself—when we moved to England, as excited as I was, I was also fearful.  I listened to all the stories about the “British commodities” and I at lightning speed acted to prevent myself and our family from not having enough.  I’m not going to go into what all I did, but to suffice it to say, that we have just finished using the cases of deodorant and toothpaste I bought to take over there.  And food—cases of peanut butter, canned pumpkin, and girl scout cookies.  The food did run out—oh horrors!  But you know what, it ran out, and we survived, and not only did we survive, but we experienced some of the most fabulous foods—the scarcity of one brand forced us to see the abundance of options, and to experience—to taste and see something different.

          This living is not easy.  Many weeks I listen to the words of the liturgy and I say to myself, “This week I’m going to live this way every day.  This week I’m going to treat every person I encounter as though they are as worthy of God’s love and grace as I am.”  And then I leave the building, and life slaps me in the face, fear attacks and often—far too often, I allow that fear, that cultural law of scarcity to motivate my words and my actions.

          One more quick personal story that I shouldn’t tell because it really shows my middle school insecurity, but I’m going to anyway—my eldest (who turned 17 yesterday) got her driver’s license in March.  She was so excited—she had a new found freedom, she was growing up, she was becoming more independent.  That week was one of the most horrible weeks of mothering for me; I was demanding, nit picking, finding fault with everything she did probably including the way she breathed—and we were both miserable.  One night after she left the dining room table in tears and I sat there alone in tears it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was afraid—afraid not just because driving is dangerous and the what ifs of what might happen in an accident, but I was afraid that she was moving on and that she no longer needed me, and God forbid if she no longer needed me, would she still love me?  Would she still want to be around me?  I had completely lost sight that our love for one another was bigger than the physical surroundings of our home—our love for one another and our relationship could grow and expand as we both did physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  Living from a place of fear is paralyzing; it is demoralizing; it is de-humanizing; and it does not allow us to live as expressions, as first fruits of God’s love and grace.

          Today’s epistle reminds us of this, and it hammers home that we can be deceived, we can convince ourselves, justify our actions and beliefs and behaviors when we allow ourselves to live by the standards of the world.  The damage that can be and is inflicted when we live hoarding grace and forgiveness and love is immense.  We have been hurt by it, I have been hurt by it, you have been hurt by it.    When we don’t over and over allow ourselves to be implanted by the word, to refocus and recommit ourselves to the foundation of our faith, we are not living from the core of our faith.

          And so we return week after week to this building, and people return week after week to many places of faith to be reminded, to rededicate ourselves and our lives, to recommit ourselves to living a life which stems from the law of the abundance of God’s grace and love for all.  We come to the altar to taste and see the glory of God, to taste and see the goodness of God, to taste and see and be filled with God’s love and grace so that we can live as first fruits of his creatures. Amen.