The grace of gift and giving

“What return can I make to the Lord

for His generosity to me?

I shall take up the cup of salvation

and call on the name of the Lord.”

--Psalm 116:12-13

I keep hesitating to write, waiting for something profound to say or some beautiful epiphany to happen. Waiting until I have something to share.  But this morning during my prayer I was contemplating these 2 verses from psalm 116 and it occurred to me:  I never have anything to share… except that which is given to me by God.  And so, here is what God has given me and I (like the psalmist) take it up and offer it back to God.

What do we have to give to the Lord save that which the Lord has already given to us?   Even if we would make an offering in thanksgiving we would only be giving back to God what God has already bestowed on us.  We have nothing of our own to offer.  Consider the example in the psalm: The cup of salvation –the literal cup—comes from materials God provided, and is shaped by hands God created, through talents God bestowed. As well the spiritual cup “of salvation,” it too is a gift, a grace God offers us through the gift of Jesus Christ.  And all we can do is take up that gift and offer it back to God in praise and thanksgiving.  In a sense, all we can do is “re-gift” the gift we have been given.

And as I pondered that, I began to think: isn’t that a kind of reflection of the Holy Trinity.  The gift of grace and love radiating back and forth between the Father, Son and Holy Spirit in a kind of eternal communion of re-gifting. God’s love is not only a gift that keeps giving, but a gift that calls out to be given—as if it were never completely accepted until it is given away!

We receive the gift and the gift itself calls us to give it away, to give it back to God, and by doing so we take part (in however small and humble a way) in the beautiful relationship of love that is the Trinity, a relationship of generosity, of abundance, of sharing, of love.    

What has God given you today?  Offer it back to Him.  A quiet rainy day? A moment of laughter? The tears of a friend?  A prayer? A cucumber sandwich? Or the cup of salvation? Don’t hesitate. Share it; in fact, re-gift it! And remember, whatever you have been given, its not really yours until you give it away.

The bread the Lord has given you to eat

“Moses said: that is the bread which

the Lord has given you to eat.”

--Exodus 16:15

“Moses then said: No one may keep any of it for tomorrow.

But some of them took no notice of Moses and kept part of it

for the following day; it bred maggots and the smell grew foul.”

--Exodus 16:19-20

“Jesus said to them: I am the bread of life;

whoever comes to me will never hunger,

and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”

--John 6:35

   

I’ve been thinking about the “bread of life.” I’ve been thinking about it in a literal sense: as a way of thinking about life as the bread (or food) that God gives us each day. I’ve been thinking about the joys and difficulties that come in daily life: friends, community, praise, but also labor, discomfort, hurt feelings, intentional cruelties, as well as annoying interruptions and simple day to day tedium. It seems easy enough to see the friend who offers an encouraging word or helping hand as a kind of manna from Heaven.  A friend like that can lift your spirit, ease your tensed brow, lighten your load and leave you feeling refreshed and renewed. Sometimes all they do is stop by your office and make you laugh for a few minutes; it is amazing how renewed I can feel. Truly fed.

But what about the difficulties? How are those food?  They feel more like punishments, than nourishment.  How do they embody the bread God has given us to eat this day?  I don’t know exactly, but I keep looking for the paradox and wondering if that might give us a clue; a clue to how God might feed us through our very hunger, nourish us through that particularly difficult relationship. Or refresh our spirit through even an injury or disease?  Or even a leaky roof or a clogged drain?

What I am saying is… well, not so much saying as proposing… Actually, not so much proposing, as considering, is this: what if the food of each day is the events and people we meet each day? And what if they all (pleasant and unpleasant) are meant to bless us, to nourish us, but not necessarily to make our lives easier or more pleasent (at least not in any measurable way).  What if (for example) the clogged bathtub drain which a few minutes ago stopped my writing and demanded my attention is at least part of the food God has given me to eat this day?  If I believed that to be true, how would it affect my reaction to it?  Would I stand up in a huff (or maybe a minute and a huff?) sighing resentfully and stomping down the hall, Liquid Plumber in hand?  Or would I sigh gratefully and whisper to myself: Thank you Lord, I was feeling a little pekish?  Disclaimer: I certainly did not do the latter.  And when someone mentioned that perhaps we should call a plumber, I reacted not with gentle considered words but with an interior monologue that went something like: Yeah! Maybe someone should do that. Maybe the someone who keeps clogging the drain every time she shaves!

And I know it’s not easy nor is it something our culture considers natural or even admirable.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. The Lord feeds us through His body and blood –and sometimes that body and blood show up in our door looking a lot like that neighbor who is always complaining about our lawn: we never edge, we don’t water enough, and some of my favorite flowers are actually weeds! And yes, I might want to tell him to mind his own business, but –is that how I want to greet Christ when He comes to my door?

Here is the other part: just because we have been given something for our daily food, doesn’t determine how we are supposed to receive it.  You see, we might receive something very difficult for our daily bread because God wants us not to simply accept it—but to grapple with it. We are (perhaps) being called to struggle with a difficult neighbor not because we are to become a doormat, but because we are to witness to that neighbor the presence of God; through our willingness to receive him and our willingness to treat him with compassion, to be loving, to be sincere and respectful toward him. Sometimes our daily bread may be an unfair law or an unjust attitude, and we are being asked to receive that daily bread through working to change the law or change the attitude; through witnessing against it. Perhaps our daily bread is simply a child who wants our attention just when we sit down to write the great American novel.  Both are goods; and to choose one is not necessarily to demean the other.  And es, our daily bread might have been time to write or our daily bread could be the child’s love; but what if the bread is actually that conflict: what if the real bread from Heaven comes not necessarily from one or the other, but in making the choice.  The real nourishment comes not necessarily from the artistic effort (or success) or even from the child who takes your hand and pulls you away from the desk, but in making the choice to go with the child, the choice to put someone else first?  The real food is in the choice to put your own wants or desires aside and give yourself (your time; literally a piece of your life) to another.  To do that feeds our soul, and that is something to chew on.

As I was writing this, I find myself seated at an old school table with too many books on it (only half of them mine) and a cup of cold coffee perched carefully just in reach toward the edge so it won’t get knocked and spilled as I open books and turn pages. This is a place I like to sit in the mornings with my Bible and read a little and then write in my notebook. And most of what I write here, comes out of that notebook.  Anyway, I was sitting there bending over the notebook and scribbling away when I reached for my coffee and knocked my little blue Bible off to the floor. Picking it up I noticed a couple of holy cards (used as bookmarks) had fallen out. As I was putting them back into the Bible I noticed writing on the back of one and thought: I don’t know if I’ve ever read this. The card was a black and white photograph of Therese of Lisieux. I think I picked it up in a church because I liked the picture, and I had probably stuck it right into a book without even reading it.  Anyway, turning it over, this is what I read: 

Everything is a grace, everything is the direct effect of our Father’s love; difficulties, contradictions, humiliations, all the soul’s miseries, her burdens, her needs, everything; because through them she learns humility, realizes her weakness.  Everything is a grace because everything is God’s gift. Whatever be the character of life or its unexpected events, to the heart that loves, all is well.

And I thought—yes. That’s what I meant to say. And much more concise... Everything is grace.

Be nourished by it. Be nourished by your husband’s love.  Be nourished by your wife’s tears.  Be nourished by your child’s laughter.  Be nourished by the litter box that needs cleaning.  Be nourished by the tub that won’t drain.  Be nourished by the quiet moment with the cold coffee and the spilled book.  Be nourished by your needs that go unmet, be nourished by the contradictions and humiliations… not because they are goods, but because they are opportunities for us to be fed by God.  Learn humility by accepting “whatever be the character of [your] life”  meekly and with love.  And remember Moses’ warning about holding onto the manna.  Don’t hold onto the hurts and slights and humiliations. Don’t cling to them, because even manna from Heaven turns sour and breeds maggots when we hold onto it and store it up for tomorrow.

Lord, open my heart to the gift of this day.

let me receive it and be fed by it, nourished

by Your grace descending like bread from Heaven.

Through Your gift, let me be renewed in hope,

Strengthened in faith, and consoled by Your love.

Amen.

Living the good life: a meditation on Ruth, Naomi & mercy

“…you are a woman of great worth.”  -Ruth 3:11

 

There are things worth waiting for. Things worth great effort. Work worth doing. Experiences worth having. People worth knowing. Worth loving. Worth waiting for. Worth the effort. People of great worth.  And the book of Ruth, one of the shortest in the Bible, is one of the most memorable; it is the story of a woman of great worth. A woman who is an example of how to become a person of great worth. And, interestingly enough, in this allegory of great worth, there is no character of any religious or royal significance; no priest, no prince, no prophet, no judge, no one of “real” importance. It is a simple story of simple people and a woman of great worth.

            The story of Ruth and Naomi is a familiar one. Naomi is a widow with two sons living in a pagan land (Moab). Her sons marry Moabite women and settle but soon they die, too. A woman without a husband or a son was quite vulnerable in the ancient world. One might say she was the equivalent of both a widow and an orphan. And living in a foreign land, she is a kind of exile, a stranger living in a strange land. Learning that life has improved in Bethlehem, Naomi decides to return to her homeland. Not wanting to force her daughter-in-laws to become exiles, she encourages them to return to their families and find new husbands. It’s the only thing that makes sense. She is saying to them, she has nothing left to give them. She has no hope for a better life. In fact, as far as she knows, she can only drag them down with her.  They need to go back to their families and look out for themselves. One does just that, but the other (Ruth) doesn’t. Instead, she puts Naomi’s needs ahead of her own:

“…wherever you go, I shall go,

Wherever you live, I shall live.

Your people will be my people,

And your God will be my God.” (Ruth 1:16)

(Wow. A drought, a famine, an uprooted family, a widow, 2 marriages, 2 deaths, and a return to Bethlehem –and it’s only verse 16. Geepers, talk about a page turner.) 

Like most fables and allegories, this is a whirlwind narrative, and the characters aren’t just characters. I imagine that just about everything in this story is a symbol of something.  Starting with the names: Naomi means sweetness, her sons are named Mahlon and Chilion –basically sickness and death—and then there is Ruth which means companion (someone who will walk the path with you). And later we will meet a very kind and just man named Boaz (basically “inner-strength”).  Something that bears mentioning: there are no bad guys in this story. No greedy relative or heartless official. No jealous rival or bitter enemy. Only the normal day to day evils of sickness and death.   

If we read the whole story allegorically we might ask ourselves, who is Naomi? As a Jew living in a foreign land, intermarrying with non-believers, after a period of bad judges and corrupt officials, is Naomi a picture of God’s chosen people gone astray? And her off-spring are nothing but sickness and death… Nothing to look forward to but woe…

But in her hour of distress and desperation, she turns back to God. And when she does, God gives her a companion to help her on the journey; a companion who treats her with compassion, who encourages her in her faith, and who reveals to her God’s mercy. 

Whether we read her allegorically or not Ruth is truly a woman of great worth. She models for Naomi and for us the fulfillment of God’s law.  She puts the needs of another before her own.  As Jesus tells us repeatedly:

“Anyone who would be great among you, must become your servant…” –Mark 10:43

Ruth becomes not just a companion, but a servant to Naomi. And by so doing, she becomes a helpmate for the journey, and a source of strength and renewed hope. Allegorically we might say she is Naomi’s (or Israel’s) faith rekindled, as well as a vision of God’s loving mercy. An icon of that never-ending grace and undying love that never ceases to seek after us, no matter how far we stray. 

She isn’t a queen. She isn’t a Judge. She isn’t a prophet.  She is just a young widow who selflessly puts the needs of another before her own.  And that is what makes her truly a woman of great worth. And a model for all of us who hope to be “of great worth” someday. 

Open your Bible and read the Book of Ruth. You can probably read the whole thing in 20 minutes (or less).  Like many fables and allegories, though it is fairly short, it contains profound depths that will inspire and challenge you and reward reading and rereading.

Dear Lord, on this Divine Mercy Sunday,

Renew us with Your love and open our hearts

with your merciful presence to the needs of others,

inspire us to put the needs of the weak and the vulnerable,

the widow, the orphan and the stranger, ahead of our own.

Let us find our greatness not in titles or power, or honors,

but in humility and service to others. Let us, like Ruth,

become bearers of Your mercy to the world.

.

Amen