Kingdom Etiquette
06/13/10
Scripture:
Luke 7:36-50Let us pray: God of grace, give us eyes to see our need for your grace, and let your salvation through Jesus Christ continue to transform our lives, that we might live in your kingdom today, and every day. In Christ we pray. Amen.
Well-published preacher King Duncan remembered an old verse by an unknown poet that says:
I eat peas with honey,
Been doin' it all my life;
It tastes kind of funny,
But it keeps the peas on my knife.
Well, personally, I’ve never seen anyone eating their peas with a knife. It sounds to me like, if you’re going to try it, you’d better have a dog to clean up the ones that get away! But supposedly there was a time when it was not unheard of for some people to eat their peas that way. I have to admit, I didn’t check with Emily Post to see about the etiquette of eating peas. To be honest, I don’t recall hearing anything about etiquette in a long time!
But, Pastor Duncan retold a story he read in Guidepost magazine a while ago, by a lady named Cori Connors. Cori wrote about her mother, who was for all her adult life, teased for eating peas with a knife instead of a fork. Cori was inspired to tell the story of the beginning of this strange custom in her family:
Cori's mom grew up during the Depression. Her family was poor, like much of the rest of the country, but they had a vegetable garden that kept them from starving. and strangers passing through town in search of work, were always welcome at their table. Cory’s family never turned anyone away hungry.
One day, her father brought home a man named Henry. Henry didn't know much English, but his gestures of gratitude toward the family were easy to understand. At dinner that evening, the family waited to let Henry start his meal first. Eagerly, he grabbed up his knife and dug into his peas. The children in the family were astonished. Henry had an amazing ability to balance all the peas on his knife, perfectly.
The children began to giggle at this strange eating habit. But the father of the family, giving his children a silencing look, picked up his own knife and began eating his peas. Although he had much less success than Henry, he kept at it, and eventually captured every last pea. That day, Cori's mother saw a concrete example of acceptance, of treating people with dignity, in spite of our differences. Who knows how many generations will learn from the example of a father's graciousness toward a man who ate peas with his knife? On the Cutting Edge," by Cori Connors, GUIDEPOSTS, March 1997, p.36.
Simon the Pharisee was not so gracious toward the woman we would probably think of as a party crasher. We tend to think of Pharisees as the “bad guys” anyway, because Jesus seemed to be constantly clashing with their strict adherence to the law. But, in all honesty, I think most of us would have been uncomfortable at such an unexpected interruption, and an intimate, even seductive scene. We all have rules that were instilled in us when we were young, and a desire for order in our lives, and that scene goes far beyond our sense of order.
It helps to understand that homes in Jesus’ day were built around an open courtyard, and the dinner party, and its conversation, might have been quite accessible to some of the people who always followed Jesus around, and wanted to hear what he had to say. I really can’t imagine how it would be considered comfortable, but their tables were low, and guests reclined on cushions, leaning on their elbow, with their feet behind them, which is how the woman could be described as, “behind him at his feet.”
But in Jesus’ day, or even in ours, a woman with her hair down, weeping and caressing a man’s feet, and applying perfume at a dinner party certainly would have been unusual, somewhat embarrassing, and maybe even had sexual overtones. Who can fault the host for being scandalized?
But Jesus had a pure mind, and a loving spirit, and was able to look beyond the outward appearance, and defend her actions by first pointing out Simon’s own oversights of etiquette, and then using a simple parable about the forgiveness of debts, to get to the heart of issue. A denarius was worth a day’s wage; so, of course a man forgiven $5,000 would be far more grateful than one forgiven only $500. It’s the difference between Simon’s half-hearted hospitality, and the woman’s extravagant display of affection.
Then, because Simon’s objections were based on the woman’s reputation, Jesus got even more specific, and in so doing, put Simon and the woman on an even playing field. They were both sinners! Because of the sincere attitude of repentance shown by her actions, her sins, serious as they might be, were forgiven.
Simon, a Pharisee, apparently could not even acknowledge that he too might be a sinner: his occupation in life was upholding the letter of the law. Jesus wanted him to see that it couldn’t be done. And what God wants, we’re told in Psalm 51, is a “broken and contrite heart.” So Jesus told Simon that the woman was forgiven; then he finally told her the same thing, and sent her on her way as, we can only assume, a deeply changed person.
We come together here, in God’s house, at Jesus’ table, like that woman, or like that Pharisee to seek a new and better way. We come to worship God, and hope that in doing so, we will catch a glimpse of God’s kingdom at work in this world. Someone said the only really unique characteristic of Christianity is forgiveness. When we’ve done our best and still failed; carefully planned our future, and see life take us in a very different direction, we can walk into an unknown future with confidence that God is going to be with us every step of the way.
It’s very common in the Bible to liken grace to water. In a sermon, James Kegel wrote that, as we know, water always flows downhill. It may snow at the top of Mt. Everest, but eventually that moisture finds its way to the sea. And in the same way, God’s grace flows downward to the lowest places in our lives. God seeks to save the lost and the outcast; to forgive the secret sin which we don’t recognize or acknowledge. God wants to reconcile those shameful places which we hide from others.
In his book called Healing for Damaged Emotions, David Seamons likens the scars we carry through life to the rings on the beautiful Redwood trees in California. He reminds us that the naturalist can point out the history of the tree in a cross section of a downed tree: “Here’s a ring that shows a year when there was a terrible drought. Here are a couple of rings from years when there was too much rain. Here’s where the tree was struck by lightening. Here are some normal years of growth. This ring shows a forest fire that almost destroyed the tree. Here’s a year of savage blight and disease. All of this lies embedded in the heart of the tree, representing its growth.” Seamonds says, “That’s the way it is with us. Just beneath the protective bark, the concealing, protecting mask, are the recorded rings of our lives; scars of ancient, painful hurts.”
That could be why, in a recent article in Christian Century, Suzanne Guthrie talked about how hard it is in a church to make what seems like a “small change”, like using a different version of the Lord’s Prayer. She said w eare a flawed, broken, stumbling people flocking to church, trying to look respectable, and thriving on praise and thanksgiving, intercession and petition followed by the coffee hour. But, prayers of confession and contrition are few and far between. We don’t like to talk, or to hear about the issues of the day, the upheavals or the tragedies that rock our life in community, or to acknowledge that there is a continual call to adjust to these changes that happen despite our best efforts.
Suzanne Guthrie suggests that instead of insisting on spiritual fast food, we try to revive an old-fashioned seven-course banquet of reconciliation which includes:
- The assurance of hope: a prayer of confession is traditionally followed by “Words of Assurance.”
- Awareness: Soul work is always full of surprises: like the prodigal’s foolish Dad welcoming him home; or the weeping, sinful lady at a Pharisee’s banquet washing Jesus’ feet with her tears and drying them with her hair.
- Examination of Conscience: Did the prodigal son examine his conscience or just realize he couldn’t digest bean pods? Guthrie likens this to mirrors in a fun house: we might be shocked at how distorted our thinking can become.
- Contrition: That means grieving for the ways our selfishness has affected ourselves and others, for the thought of giving up what we don’t want to do without; and for the opportunities to do good that we’ve lost.
- Confession: Getting on our knees, either physically or in our imagination, and praying like the Prodigal Son, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called yours.”
(But, Guthrie warns “It’s still not time to light a candle and soak in the hot tub of absolution.”) She adds:
- Make amends: If we can’t make amends directly to the people we’ve hurt, we can build something useful; repair something that’s broken; put the new resolve into practice in some way.
- Acts of thanksgiving: She says repentance is a good excuse for a party!
Speaking of a dinner party, as happens often, a young woman was nervous about meeting her boyfriend’s parents for the first time. As she checked the mirror one last time, she noticed that her shoes looked dingy, so she gave them a fast swipe with the paper towel she used to blot the bacon she had for breakfast.
Arriving at the impressive home, she was greeted by the parents and their pampered pet, a much-loved but bad-tempered poodle. The dog immediately smelled the bacon grease on her shoes and followed her around all evening. At the end of the evening, the pleased mother remarked, “Cleo really likes you, dear, and she’s an excellent judge of character. We are delighted to welcome you into our little family.” We enjoy acceptance however we come by it!
Jesus modeled forgiveness and acceptance of a repentant gate-crasher when Simon’s dinner party was interrupted by her unexpected intrusion. Later, Jesus verbalized the ultimate act of forgiveness when he was hanging on the cross and said, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” In the seventh chapter of Acts, we have the story of Stephen, one of the original deacons of the apostolic church in Jerusalem. Saul, who later encountered the resurrected Christ and became St. Paul, held the coats of the men who were stoning Stephen to death, as Stephen fell to his knees and prayed, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” Saul was no doubt being prepared for conversion by that incident.
This year I’ve been reading a daily devotional by Corrie Ten Boom, and was motivated to read her well-known book, The Hiding Place, about the participation of her whole family in the underground movement to protect Jews in Haarlem, Holland during World War II. They helped find hiding places for many people, and eventually took at least seven into their own home; and their house guests were so securely hidden that they were undetected the day the family was arrested.
Corrie’s father, the town’s beloved watchmaker died soon after their imprisonment, and the adult siblings were able to keep some contact when Corrie and her sister, Betsie, both in their forties or fifties were held at prisons in Holland, until at last they were sent to Ravensbruck Concentration Camp in Germany. Corrie carried a New Testament in a sack on her back, hiding it, even when the time came for the rare and highly supervised shower; and she and her sister managed to hold a Bible study every night in their smelly, flea-infested barracks, after the guards left for the night. They were blessed by the discovery that it was the fleas that kept the guards from discovering their prayer meetings! Betsie’s health deteriorated and she died not long before Corrie, sick and emaciated herself, was released by what she later discovered was a clerical error. Grace upon grace, even in the most horrifying situations.
But what Corrie wanted to convey in her book, and what impressed me most, was her older sister Betsie’s faith, the same faith passed on to each of his children by their father, the watchmaker. Betsie would constantly pray for their captors, pray that love would triumph over the hatred that had so blinded them to the humanity they were violating so horribly. Before she died, Betsie had three visions about the world after the war, visions which Corrie almost miraculously brought to fruition after her release: First, Corrie followed through on Betsie’s urgent plea to tell people what they learned from their horrible experience. She also founded a rehabilitation center in Holland, in a mansion which Betsie had described in infinite detail, although she had never seen it. A place that met her exact description was made available; a place where released prisoners could go to heal the deep scars inflicted on body and soul.
Amazingly, Betsie envisioned a similar center in Germany “where people who had been warped by that philosophy of hate and force could come to learn another way.” Corrie found the need, and the place, to fulfill that vision at a speaking engagement in Germany, when she encountered a former S.S. guard she recognized from Ravensbruck. She described angry, vengeful feelings, and a prayer to forgive a man for whom, she recalled, Jesus had died. She finally prayed again, “Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me your forgiveness.” When she was finally able to take his outstretched hand, she felt a current, like electricity, pass from her hand to his, and felt an overwhelming love for her former enemy. Together, they created a rehabilitation center out of a former concentration camp, painted green, with flowers in window boxes at every window, just as Betsie had seen it in her vision.
Salvation means that we are forever changed by God’s loving grace, which was shown to us by Jesus Christ, and by faithful Christians throughout the centuries. May we all be changed by Christ's love and acceptance today, and in all the days to come, and help fulfill our own vision of God’s kingdom on earth. Amen.