TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST
Prayer of the Day: O God, you show forth your almighty power chiefly by reaching out to us in mercy. Grant us the fullness of your grace, strengthen our trust in your promises, and bring all the world to share in the treasures that come through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.
“The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah.” I Kings 17:16.
Elijah was a criminal on the run and wanted by the authorities in Samaria. He had just crossed the border into Sidon. She was a helpless widow with a child on the brink of starvation. Just a jar of cooking oil and a little flour between them. If Fox News were to finish this story, it would no doubt end in the illegal immigrant with a criminal record murdering the woman and her son, taking their meager share of bread and eating their dog for good measure. Moral of the story: Sidon should have had a border wall.
That is not the biblical story, however. Instead, the prophet on the lam requests help of the widow, promising that there will be enough bread for all three, woman, child and prophet. The woman trusts the word of the prophet and makes him a loaf of bread. Contrary to expectation, it turns out that there is bread not only for the day, but for many days to come. Here, as in the gospel lesson where another widow contributes out of her poverty, the scriptures testify that generosity knows no limits. It is not deterred by race, national boundaries, religious distinctions or class differences. Just as importantly, it is not limited by perceptions of scarcity.
The myth of scarcity animates much of our culture, religion and politics these days. Something deep inside is always whispering to us, warning us that there is not enough to go around. God’s love is not great enough to embrace people outside your faith community. The world is a shrinking pie and if you don’t get your share now, there won’t be anything left. So you had better shore up those border walls to make sure nobody else takes any of those diminishing American jobs, land and benefits to which you are entitled. Better cut taxes to eliminate social programs benefiting the most vulnerable among us to make sure there is enough for your own proverbial “kitchen table.” Better think twice about your giving to the church and its ministries because who knows how high rent, mortgage rates and the price of eggs will be in the coming year. And if some illegal comes to your door begging for bread, you had better slam it in his face and call ICE.
I have labeled this outlook a myth because it is just that. Again and again, Jesus demonstrates that there is always enough to share, even when you are down to your last few loaves of bread and fish. God will provide. God always has provided. As grievously as we have abused this earth, it is still capable of satisfying everyone’s need (though not everyone’s greed!). There is plenty of opportunity for all who seek sanctuary in our land. The best of our American traditions has always recognized this truth. Witness poet Emma Lazarus’ words engraved at the base of the Statue of Liberty:
“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
More importantly, there are plenty of resources and lots of potential for improving life in the nations from which people feel compelled to flee. The Marshall Plan of 1947, which rebuilt Western Europe following the second world war, demonstrates what can be done where there is political will and strong, determined leadership to implement it. Scarcity is the devil’s lie. It is as old as the Garden of Eden. God can’t be trusted to provide. God cannot be trusted to be your shelter. God cannot be trusted to be your sure defense. Everyone outside your circle is out to get you, take away what you have and leave you with nothing. Nobody is going to take care of you but you.
To the mind twisted by the myth of scarcity, the actions of the women in our lessons for this Sunday appear foolish, dangerous and irrational. The myth of scarcity lends credibility to claims that immigrants are pet eating psychopaths released into our country from prisons and insane asylums. It lends credibility to claims that a vague, shadowy “deep state” is plotting to rob you of your guns, destroy your religion and change the sex of your school age children. It makes believable mad ravings about some “enemy from within” embedded in your family, lurking among your neighbors and hiding in your community bent on taking your country away from you. The myth of scarcity breeds fear and fear makes you stupid. But to the mind of Christ dwelling in people like the two biblical women, generosity is the only rational response to a neighbor in need-any neighbor of any racial, cultural, national origin with or without the right paper work and on this or the opposite side of any border. Generous people know that when you place what you have in the service of Jesus, however small and inadequate it might seem, it can accomplish more than can be imagined. God will provide.
Here is a poem by Luci Tapahonso that celebrates the giftedness of diversity in nature and humanity, calling for the response of limitless generosity and gratitude. Though grounded in Navaho faith and tradition, it parallels the biblical testimony to generosity as the foundational principle of creation.
A Blessing
For the graduates of the University of Arizona.
This morning we gather in gratitude for all aspects of sacredness:
the air, the warmth of fire, bodies of water, plants, the land,
and all animals and humankind.
We gather to honor our students who have achieved the extraordinary
accomplishment of earning doctoral or master’s degrees.
We gather to honor their parents, grandparents, children,
family members, and friends who have traveled with them
on their path to success. They have traveled far distances to be here
this morning: we honor their devotion.
May we remember that holiness exists in the ordinary elements of our lives.
We are grateful for a homeland that has always thrived
on a glorious array of people and their diverse cultures, histories,
and beliefs. We acknowledge the generosity of the Tohono O’odham
in granting this land on which we learn, teach, celebrate
accomplishments, and sometimes mourn losses.
May we always cherish our ancestors as we prepare for the days ahead.
May we remember that we exist because of their prayers and their faith.
We are blessed with distinct and melodious tongues.
Our languages are treasures of stories, songs, ceremonies, and memories.
May each of us remember to share our stories with one another,
because it is only through stories that we live full lives.
May the words we speak go forth as bright beads
of comfort, joy, humor, and inspiration.
We have faith that the graduates will inspire others
to explore and follow their interests.
Today we reflect a rainbow of creation:
Some of us came from the east, where bright crystals of creativity reside.
They are the white streaks of early morning light when all is born again.
We understand that, in Tucson, the Rincon Mountains are our inspiration
for beginning each day. The Rincons are everlasting and always present.
Those who came from the south embody the strength of the blue
mountains that encircle us. The Santa Ritas instill in us
the vigorous spirit of youthful learning.
Others came from the west; they are imbued with the quiet, yellow glow of dusk.
They help us achieve our goals. Here in the middle of the valley, the ts’aa’,
the basket of life, the Tucson Mountains teach us to value our families.
The ones from the north bring the deep, restorative powers of night’s darkness;
their presence renews us. The Santa Catalina Mountains teach us that,
though the past may be fraught with sorrow, it was strengthened
by the prayers of our forebearers.
We witnessed the recent fires the mountains suffered,
and in their recovery we see ourselves on our own journeys.
We understand that we are surrounded by mountains, dziił,
and thus that we are made of strength, dziił, nihí níhídziił.
We are strong ourselves. We are surrounded by mountains
that help us negotiate our daily lives.
May we always recognize the multitude of gifts that surround us.
May our homes, schools, and communities be filled with the wisdom
and optimism that reflect a generous spirit.
We are grateful for all blessings, seen and unseen.
May we fulfill the lives envisioned for us at our birth. May we realize
that our actions affect all people and the earth. May we live in the way
of beauty and help others in need. May we always remember that
we were created as people who believe in one another. We are grateful,
Holy Ones, for the graduates, as they will strengthen our future.
All is beautiful again.
Hózhǫ́ nááhasdłíí’.
Hózhǫ́ nááhasdłíí’.
Hózhǫ́ nááhasdłíí’.
Hózhǫ́ nááhasdłíí’.
Source: A Radiant Curve by Luci Tapahonso (c, 2008 by Luci Tapahonso; pub. by University of Arizona Press). Luci Tapahonso (b. 1953) is a Navajo poet and a lecturer in Native American Studies. She was born on the Navajo reservation in Shiprock, New Mexico. Navajo was spoken exclusively in her home. She learned English in elementary school as a second language. Tapahonso earned her bachelor’s degree in 1980 from the University of New Mexico and her MA in Creative Writing in 1983. Thereafter, she taught, first at New Mexico and later at the University of Kansas and the University of Arizona. Tapahonso’s work has appeared in many print and media productions in the United States and internationally. She received the 2006 Lifetime Achievement award from the Native Writers Circle of the Americas and a Spirit of the Eagle Leadership Award for her key role in establishing the Indigenous Studies Graduate Studies Program at the University of Kansas. She is the first poet laureate of the Navajo Nation. You can read more about Luci Tapahonso and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.
Peter's Outer Cape Portico 