Where We Feed Each Other: Sermon for Proper 18A

Long ago, in a poor country far away, a young woman once approached the wise woman of her village with a question: “What are heaven and hell like?”

“Come, let me show you,” replied the wise woman, and the two walked into the forest, until they came to a house. The wise woman opened the door, and there they saw dozens of people all spread out, slumped weakly with their chairs pushed back against the walls, as far from each other as possible. In the center of the single room was a huge round table, about seven feet in diameter, covered with dozens of steaming tureens of delicious-smelling soup.

Yet the people in the house were so malnourished they looked like abandoned dogs. Then the young woman noticed that the only utensils in the room were spoons with handles that were about eight feet long.

There was no way they could use those spoons to feed themselves. Some people had blisters and even wounds on their hands from trying to spoon the hot soup directly into their mouths.

And like mistreated dogs, they were filled with the instinct to lash out. As the two women stepped inside, one fellow seemed to faint for a moment, and fell over onto the shoulder of one of the women seated next to them. With a vicious shove, that neighbor exclaimed “Get off me! Don’t touch me! Don’t I have enough trouble of my own?” and the man, awakened, slowly pulled himself up and slumped back into his seat.

As the young seeker and the wise woman had opened the door and stepped inside, some of the people there began weakly, hoarsely demanding that the two women leave. “Go away!” they cried. “There already isn’t room for any more here! Leave us to suffer in peace!”

The young woman’s eyes brimmed with tears at the sad scene. The old woman let her look a moment longer, then guided her back out the door so that they could talk freely. Once outside, she turned. “That,” said the wise woman, “is hell.” The young woman stifled a sob. “Now let’s journey a bit further,” said the wise woman.

They walked deeper into the forest, and up to another house. The wise woman opened this door, and there again they saw dozens of people all gathered around a huge table piled high covered with enormous steaming tureens of delicious soup. In fact, there were three times as many people in the house. Once again, the only utensils in the room were spoons with handles that were eight feet long. Yet the people here were laughing and joyous. “Come in! Come in!” exclaimed several of them. “Dinner is about to start!”

With some trepidation, the young woman and the wise woman sat down at the chairs pulled close to the table. One of the persons stood to lead the group in saying grace, and together they all thanked whoever had provided the delicious soup—the plants, the bees, the farmers, the harvesters, the chefs, ending with giving thanks for the blessing of those gathered around the table.


After a hearty amen, half the people pulled up to the table took a hold of one of the spoons, and then filled it from one of the tureens. Then, in a staggered rhythm, each spoon-holder reached across the table and fed a person across from them. And then each person who had just been fed picked up their own spoon and fed a person opposite of them. Those who held the spoons chatted merrily with each other while they fed their companions. The young woman and the wise woman, too, were fed until they could eat no more. And yet the tureens never seemed to go empty.

Eventually, the wise woman took the young woman by the hand and said it was time to leave, and they bid their new friends farewell. “Come back anytime!” several of the house’s inhabitants called. “There is always plenty to go around!”

The young woman was stunned. “That was heaven, wasn’t it?” she asked the wise woman, and the wise woman nodded. “I don’t understand!” the young woman cried. “Why was it so different? Both houses had exactly the same tables, the same food, the same spoons!”

“Ah, my child,” said the wise woman. “Hell is where, despite being surrounded by abundance, we isolate and think only about what we lack and don’t see what we DO have. But heaven-- heaven is where we feed each other, where the greatest abundance is love and care for one another.”

I have loved this fable since I read it in a book of folklore when I was a child. And the interesting thing is that versions of the Fable of the Long Spoons shows up in cultures all around the globe: In Jewish midrash, in Chinese fables (where the spoons become chopsticks and the soup becomes rice), in Hindu and Buddhist and Muslim tales. There is obviously universal wisdom embedded in this tale.

In all of our readings, we hear about challenges in relationships with God, and with each other. In our reading from Ezekiel, the prophet is addressing a common, but mistaken, belief, then and now, that people suffer calamities due to their sinfulness. And while it is true that there are often consequences for bad behavior, we also know that sometimes hateful people flourish and innocent people suffer. And it’s human nature to try to figure out a system to it all—to figure out a system, so we can avoid that suffering.

In the case of Ezekiel and his audience, the people of Israel believe that God has punished them for their lack of faith in God by having them be conquered and their leaders carried into exile. Yet the prophet assures them that God does not desire the punishment of anyone. God DOES expect us to examine ourselves, and where we do things that do not serve ourselves or others well, to turn aside from those harmful behaviors and repent—which literally means to choose a new path.

Our psalm portion tells us exactly how to have the perspective to do this: by studying, with humility and gratitude, God’s revelation to us, God’s wisdom offered for us, starting with scripture. Taking that wisdom as our own, and focusing on that revelation as a gift to guide our choices and relationships in all that we do. That’s one of the reasons why Christian education, and regular study and prayer over scripture is so important as a practice, if we really want to flourish and grow as children of God and the best people we can be.

The next reading meant to deepen our wisdom and guide our relationships comes from Paul writing to the beleaguered Church in Rome. His first sentence itself is a wonder: Owe one another nothing…. EXCEPT to love one another. We all know that another word for debt is “obligation.” 

Friends, love is the greatest obligation of them all! And yet it is also the ground of everything good and beautiful and true. We are literally made for love. 

Paul had spent a lifetime even before his conversion studying scripture. And before his encountered with the risen Christ, he had been an aider and abettor of the persecutors of the followers of Jesus. But when the lens of Christ was added to his knowledge of God’s specific commandments, he suddenly saw the universal light of Christ woven into everything and every person, and urges all of us who hear his words to do the same.

But then we come to our gospel. The situation described here seems grim. There is injury within the tiny community of Christ followers to whom the author of Matthew belongs. So Jesus advises a way to address the wrong and seek restitution, reconciliation, and healing.

And I have seen this specific teaching be used to absolutely devastating effect by being misinterpreted in church and our common lives together. And especially right now. I want to ask everyone to concentrate on the fact, that Jesus first urges us to try again and again to confront issues in our relationships openly and lovingly. Repeatedly. To persevere in trying to maintain acknowledgement of where we all fall short in loving God and each other—and remember loving each other is one of the main ways we show the world we love God. 

So being loving and compassionate in our relationships is often the boldest witness we make as to who Jesus, the Son of God, is. And that benefits not just others but ourselves. To remember the lesson of our fable, by feeding each other, we ourselves are fed.

But let us remember, first of all, that the specific issue being addressed here is behavior that directly hurts another. Not our “disapproval” of another person or of ways that they are different from us. This is supposed to address real injury, not looking down on those who don’t look like we do, or dress like we do, or use the same pronouns as we do, or love the same way we do.

Then there is this key statement: if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax-collector.

Oh hey! There’s the chance to start enforcing some codes of exclusion, right? Everybody knows that Gentiles and tax collectors were considered to be enemies of the people, yes? Let’s remember: Gentiles were non-Jews, often soldiers or citizens of the Roman empire or descendants of the Canaanites or Babylonians or Persians, all representatives of the Jewish peoples’ oppression just like in Ezekiel’s time. And tax collectors were those who collected taxes in the name of that regime, economically squeezing revenue out of an already desperately poor people. Yep. All that is true. So does that mean we can cast out and hate and oppress those we consider to be sinful?

And let’s be clear, too often right in what is going on around us right now, that “sinful” label really means “those who don’t live and look and dress and love how we think you should live and look and dress and love.”

But how does this very real tendency we have to bash those different from us line up with Paul’s insistence that Jesus taught us that we should owe each other nothing—except love?

The key is to ask one very important, very much overlooked question: How did Jesus treat tax collectors and Gentiles? Did he urge violence against them, ostracism, excommunication? Did he urge the passage of laws to strip them of their humanity?

Or did he have long conversations with them, teach them, heal their loved ones, praise their astounding faith, sit down to eat with them and even bless them? In fact, does anyone know what the author of Matthew’s gospel was supposed to have had as his occupation before becoming a follower of Christ? Matthew 9:9 and Mark 2:14 state that Matthew, also known as Levi, was sitting in his booth collecting taxes when Jesus walked by and called him to follow him. Matthew himself was a tax collector—and was not just NOT outcast by Jesus, or stoned to death by him, but called to be one of Jesus’s earliest followers.

As we finish up a week that included a secular holiday dedicated to a reminder of how much we all depend upon each other’s common labor, I hope we can see this passage in Matthew’s gospel with clear eyes and a clear heart. How does all of that stuff early in our reading about approaching those who have sinned against us end? With this statement, so important that it is in our prayer book prayers at the end of the morning prayer liturgy: where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.’

When ever even a handful of people gather, in the name of Jesus, which means in the example and imitation of Jesus, Jesus is there in the midst of them. When we hold tight to our relationships with each other, rather than looking for ways to cast people out, Jesus is right here in the midst of us. When we tend to our OWN sinfulness and error first, and stop trying to distract ourselves by pointing the finger at others, Jesus is in the midst of us. When we are willing to stop believing that each other is the enemy, and instead start feeding each other, then Jesus is in the midst of us.

And all of us will be fed. Heaven, my beloveds, is where we feed each other.

--Preached at the 10:30 am Holy Eucharist at St. Martin's Episcopal Church on the 15th Sunday after Pentecost, September 10, 2023.

Readings:

Ezekiel 33:7-11
Psalm 119:33-40
Romans 13:8-14
Matthew 18:15-20

Being Salt: Sermon for Proper 21 B

Once upon a time there was a foolish king who had three beautiful daughters. He decided to ask each of them one day how much they loved him.

“Oh, Father,” the first daughter, who was known for her greed, exclaimed, “you are dearer to me than gold!” This answer pleased the king, and he kissed her and ordered that she be given a beautiful gold necklace. Happily, she skipped away.

“Oh Father!” the second daughter, who was known for her vanity, exclaimed, “you are dearer to me than the finest silk!” This answer also pleased the king, and he kissed her and ordered that she be given a beautiful embroidered silk gown. Happily, she too skipped away.

“Oh Father!” the third and youngest daughter, who was known for her wisdom, exclaimed, “you are dearer to me than salt!” This answer enraged the king. “You compare your love for me to a common rock, ugly and worthless!” He turned to the guards. “Take her away from my sight, and let her be a servant in the kitchen, so she can be with her precious salt all the time!” the king thundered, and his guards took her, gave her serving rags, and assigned her a room in the dungeon near the cellars with the other servants. The other servants felt great pity for her, and yet they dared not help her.

The king then proclaimed a great feast for his other two daughters. The servants, including the princess, scurried back and forth from the cellars to the kitchens, preparing all kinds of sumptuous foods. The cook herself, a kindly woman, also came down and supervised the servants in selecting the vegetables and meats from the cellars. The princess had an idea. She told the cook her plan and the cook agreed.

The king, his other two daughters, and his guests had gathered in the great hall above, and were eagerly anticipating a magnificent feast. The first daughter was wearing her fine gold necklace, and the second daughter preened in her magnificent silk gown. The two older sisters demanded that their sister be dressed as a maid and be forced to wait upon them.

Dish after dish of steaming vegetables and fine meats were set before the revelers. Eagerly, the king heaped his plate high, and tasted the first dish. A look of astonishment passed over his face. He then tried each of the other dishes, and then angrily shoved the plate aside. “Bring me the cook!” he thundered.

The cook was hustled into the great hall. “What is the meaning of this?” the king shouted. “This food is terrible!” “Your majesty banished your daughter to the dungeon, and stripped her of her rightful place in your household, and I was afraid you would do the same to me. So I carefully prepared the food without any salt to save myself.”

The king stood, open-mouthed. He then tasted the food, and it was completely bland and tasteless. The king’s third daughter, dressed in her maid’s uniform, came and knelt before him. “Father, I said that you were dearer to me than salt, because salt is necessary for life, for flavor. That is how much I love you.”

And the king, realizing his mistake, embraced his daughter and asked her forgiveness, which she promptly gave, for she did love her father. He placed his crown upon her head, his signet ring upon her finger, his robe upon her shoulders, and made her his heir, realizing her wisdom. It’s funny the things we take for granted, the folk wisdom we forget.

As I was thinking about salt this week, I found that there were versions of this folk tale from all over the world, everywhere from India to Italy to Germany. Although we take it for granted, salt has played a crucial role in world history. 

In the ancient world, salt was such a valuable commodity that Roman soldiers were paid in salt, which is where we get the word “salary” to this day. A man in love was called “salax” which means to be “salted.”


German brides had their shoes salted in ancient times as a hope for children, because salt was associated with fertility. Entire trading empires rose and fell, and wars were fought over salt, which was thought to be rare. One form of salt, saltpeter, is a necessary ingredient in making gunpowder, as the Chinese discovered.

In the Hebrew scriptures, salt was a sign of the everlasting covenant between God and the Israelites, and salt was mixed into the offerings as a sign of the covenant, as noted in Leviticus 2:13. In Numbers 18:19, when God is setting Aaron and his descendants aside as priests, God gives them the right to all the offerings given to God forever, saying, “All the holy offerings that the Israelites present to the Lord I have given to you, together with your sons and daughters, as a perpetual due; it is a covenant of salt for ever before the Lord for you and your descendants as well.” 

This may be because salt is a preservative beyond compare—which is why the ancient Egyptians preserved bodies with a special salt called natron. Salt is a symbol for purity, as anyone who has a blue cylinder of Morton’s salt may know.

Salt endures. Dissolve salt in water, and if you boil the water, the salt will be the residue in the pan after all the water has evaporated.

The body, both human and animal, needs salt, which is necessary for the correct functioning of our cells, and a healthy adult human body on average has just a bit more than a half pound of salt as part of its composition. Some people swear by the health effects of lamps made from pink Himalayan salt. Trader Joe’s sells a gift box of seven different exotic salts: Kalahari Desert salt, Hawai’ian Black Lava salt, Hawai’ian red salt, Inca Sun salt, Blue Persian salt, Himalayan Pink salt, and South African Oak smoked, and that ignores the trendy kosher salt and sea salt. (1)

In our gospel today, Jesus compares his disciples to salt. “Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.” Coming on the heels of his warning about not being a stumbling block for anyone, especially the innocent, what he’s saying here is that we are tasked with preserving each other, with building each other up, in valuing the dignity and worth of every person. We are not called to destroy each other, attack each other, or exploit each other for our own perceived gain.

In Matthew 5:13, Jesus makes a similar point when he tells his disciples, “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot,” and then he continues that we are to be the light of the world.

Salt and light. Preservation and enlightenment, or wisdom. How can we be salt in the world? In the midst of the division, hatred, and violence that characterizes so much of our world, we are called to care for each other, look out for each other, accept each other as we are, as brothers and sisters in Christ. We are to work through love to lift up each other, and turn aside from all inside of us that would hurt someone else, no matter how we might justify that by our own fears or discomfort.

We live together as members of a community of Christians and out in the world by our own covenant of salt: to care for each other, to give of ourselves to each other because we recognize that together we are stronger, and divided we are weaker than we would be together. This is a foundation of discipleship.

That’s an important consideration as we prepare for our dedicated stewardship campaign, as well. The money we offer, we offer to God, but what we are really offering is ourselves, just as salt was mixed into all the offerings in the ancient Hebrew system of sacrifice. Our giving empowers us to be the disciples we long to be in the world. It's how we communicate who we are in a world of scarcity.

Sacrifice is too often interpreted in our culture by its negative connotation: something that hurts to give. But sacrifice has another, more important meaning: it makes holy. It purifies. It dedicates. It preserves and hallows. It brings peace rather than pain. It builds up community rather than sets us at competition with one another, and empowers us as a community in our mission to the world.

May we have salt in ourselves, and be salt to each other—steadfast, preserving, life-giving.

Amen.


Readings:
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10, 9:20-22
Psalm 124
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50

Notes:
1) I am indebted for the idea for the fable and for the facts about salt in world history to Mark Kurlansky, author of Salt: A World History, pp. 1-8


Preached at the 505 on September 29, and at 8:00 and 10:15 pm at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville.