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Sermon of November 23, 2008 Foolish Generosity Mark 14:3-9 I was cleaning off my bookshelf not too long ago in anticipation of a yard sale (and because I needed the space for new books I’ve recently purchased and yet more books I am sure I will soon purchase) and so as I looked for books I might get rid of, I developed a kind of criteria. If a book looked like a possible candidate to go, I asked myself a couple of questions: Did I like the book? And then, even if I liked it, had I ever returned to it after reading it the first time? Would I miss it if I got rid of it? By those measures, I should have cleared a whole lot of shelf space, but I didn’t. I got rid of just enough books to make just enough room for the books that are awaiting a spot on the shelf. After agonizing over dozens of books, I decided I’ll worry about the future need for space by getting rid of more books later. (Or maybe I’ll get another bookshelf!) Anyway, one of the books that I considered getting rid of is a book by Bruce Larson titled “There’s A Lot More To Health Than Not Being Sick.” I don’t know much about the author. I have no other books by him. Quite frankly, I can’t even remember buying this book in the first place. And honestly, I don’t remember much of what is in the book. But I kept it – rather than consigning it to the yard sale box – for two reasons. One is that I like the title. Why not have that reminder on your shelf? There’s A Lot More To Health Than Not Being Sick. The other reason I kept the book is because of a story in it about getting rid of things. How’s that for irony? I keep this book on my shelf because it has a good story about getting rid of things! Here’s the story from a section titled, “Finding the Essentials”: On an early spring day in Washington, D.C., a new excursion boat was making its way up the Potomac on its maiden run. To inaugurate this event, a large number of Congressmen and senators had been invited, along with some members of the press. The sun was bright and hot, and one famous senator had removed his shoes and socks and settled back on a deck chair to wiggle his toes. The socks were hung a railing in front of him. One of the columnists aboard was observing all this when someone (moving) along the deck inadvertently brushed against one of the socks. It fell over the railing into the river and was quickly swallowed in the wake of the ship. The columnist was particularly impressed by what followed next, and it confirmed in his mind this legislator’s true genius. The senator, seeing what had happened, calmly went over to the railing, picked up his remaining sock and threw it overboard. Writing about the incident later, the columnist confessed that if the same thing had happened to him, he would have taken the one remaining sock and put it in his pocket and brought it home. “I have a whole drawer full of single socks at home. (the columnist wrote) I won’t ever find the mate, but one cannot throw away a perfectly good single sock. My life is full of single socks. Things that have no possible use for me. There is so much in my life like that…I realize that I’ve got to clean out all the things that are perfectly good, but good for nothing, and get down to some simple basics.” I think I like that story because I identify with the columnist, but wish I had the impulse of the senator. Yes, yes, I say to myself, I need to weed out the things that are perhaps good, but not useful; no longer hang on to the things I don’t need. And at the same time, I say to myself, “Now don’t be impulsive or wasteful. After all, how many times has the lost sock turned up later?” Most lost socks didn’t fall overboard; they disappear in the dryer. Case in point, one of Loyce’s socks recently turned up in the sleeve of one of my t-shirts, weeks after it disappeared. It’s a very thin sock, and I only found it when I pulled the shirt out of the drawer for something to wear to bed, and I noticed as I was trying to go to sleep that something didn’t feel quite right in my sleeve. Ta-da! Good thing I didn’t pitch the other sock in the meantime! But that’s where I get stuck: Wanting to be sure I don’t get rid of something I might later need, I hold on to shelves full of the unnecessary. The same yard sale for which I was trying to clear some of my books from the bookshelf? We got rid of a lot of things, but it wasn’t my choice. Loyce had the momentum. I tried to veto some of her decisions (unsuccessfully I might add) until I realized that maybe if we got rid of more things we didn’t need, we’d get something we did need: more space in the basement and room enough in the garage to fit two cars. And we did. And since the weather has turned colder, and we’ve even had some snow this week, boy am I glad that I gave up what I didn’t need to get what I did need: more space in the garage. So, I like Larson’s story. Away with all the spare socks! Overboard you go! There’s the virtue of simplicity for you! Boy do I feel Brethren! But you know what? Anyone can throw out their single socks…or their least favorite and most easily forgotten books. Big deal. We’ve all got plenty of junk – even the most frugal among us. Stuff piles up. Why does downsizing make us feel so virtuous? We’ve got an abundance of junk to get rid of. Or in the case of our recent yard sale, we had an abundance of baby clothes and toys and bikes that were far from junk, but were clearly things that we do not and will not need for the foreseeable future. It was time to get rid of it. It was time to clear some space. The only virtue in such clearing out is that more often than selling old baby clothes and equipment, we’ve given it away, and that earlier this year, we donated a whole bunch of stuff to a community yard sale to benefit an international student. That was even better than gaining the sale proceeds for ourselves. And yet, it was all from a position of abundance. We had the stuff to sell, and what we gained made it more than worth it. I love my cleaned out garage. The scripture for this morning puts the shoe (or should I say, sock) on the other foot. The woman who comes and dumps the jar of perfume on Jesus’ head isn’t putting on a yard sale. She’s not selling what she doesn’t need. She’s not ridding herself of an abundance of junk. She’s giving the best. She’s giving it all. She horrifies those who are watching. What is she doing? What a waste! That’s almost a year’s wages down the drain! What foolishness. Think about it. Who in their right mind would pour twenty or twenty five thousand dollars down the drain (because that’s about how much money we’re talking about, comparing denarri to dollars)? And how did she get her hands on such a jar? Was it even hers to waste? Talk about having all your eggs in one basket…and then breaking the whole clutch. It sure looks foolish. How can she do that? Why doesn’t someone stop her? Why doesn’t Jesus set her straight? The people who are on the scene are thinking the same thing, we can assume, since they immediately offer pointed criticism based on good stewardship principles. “Why was the ointment wasted in this way?” they ask, “For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarri, and the money given to the poor.” And then, the scripture says, “they scolded her.” That word “scolded” is interesting. In the Good News it’s “criticized her harshly.” In the King James it’s “murmured”. The Greek, I think, is something along the lines of “to censure” or “chide”. Not too brutal a response until you look in the text to where it leads. Jesus responds by telling the crowd to let her alone. That in fact, what looks to them like foolishness is actually generosity, a kindness, an honoring of him, a “good service.” He is grateful. He is touched. And you know what happens next in the story? Just past the verses of this morning’s text? Judas. Judas goes to the chief priests and offers to betray Jesus for money. It’s a pragmatic way to stop this nonsense and Jesus’ endorsement of such nonsense. So we’ve got this foolish woman who breaks the jar of perfume, and pours $25,000 worth of the stuff over Jesus’ head who is in the right, and the pragmatic disciple who sets out to put an end to all this foolishness who is in the wrong. Foolishness is good and pragmatism is bad? Well, if we read the scriptures as morality tale, maybe that is the upside down message. But I think it’s a bit more tricky than that. I think stories like these are not just about the money. They are about our hearts and our hope. Because when you come right down to it, all generosity is foolish; all “giving” (as opposed to purchasing, for example) is foolish. You give and what do you have to show for it? It’s all foolish, but…sometimes it’s fun. I think that’s what Jesus saw in the woman who poured the perfume. Maybe he knew that the all too serious Judas was on his way to the authorities to stop this silliness. Or maybe he just knew that it’s all too rare and quite delightful to see someone give it her all. Not measuring, not calculating, not holding back; just giving it all because her heart is bursting with passion, with joy, with generosity. I have an idea that I probably have no business telling you about on stewardship commitment Sunday because it doesn’t help the budget a bit, and that’s where the church is trying to channel your commitments, but I can’t help myself. I have to tell you my ‘foolish’ idea and see if nothing else, it helps you to understand the woman with the jar. Here’s the background: I don’t control any of the money in this church, except for one small fund. It’s a designated fund called the pastoral assistance fund, and I put some money in it from funerals or weddings sometimes and some other people put some money in now and then. And it goes up a little bit and then I spend it down, giving money to people in our church or sometimes the community who have an immediate need, and who ask for some help. One time I had a call from someone who was advocating for another person in the community who needed exactly $1500 for a legal bill and had no resources and without the money was going to sit in jail for months and months without any hope of fighting the charges. I told the person calling – someone I know, but not very well – that I’d have to check and see how much money was in the fund. I didn’t know at that moment, but I was also stalling. But when I looked? You guessed it. There was almost exactly $1500 in the fund. I swallowed hard and gave the whole amount. It cleaned the fund out. Then I immediately thought, “What have a done?” A couple days later, someone called and said they wanted to give some money to help people in the community, and they wanted to give it anonymously, but as directly as possible. Was there any way I could help them? You bet. The fund was replenished. I learned then that there’s no point in holding back; in keeping the jar of perfume full, so to speak. It may look foolish to dump the whole thing, but the point isn’t the value of the perfume. It’s the benefit of pouring it out. Alright, so here’s my idea. Over the next twelve or so months, you give me your extra yard sale money for this pastoral assistance fund. And your loose change. Or maybe a one time big fat donation. Not your tithe, not what you intend to pledge today, but other money. We’ll put it in this little fund, that as of this moment has about $1000 in it, and one year from now, we’ll do a “woman with the jar” thing. And here’s what we’ll do. We’ll have a party. Maybe we should do it after the Christmas Eve service a little more than one year from now. In any case, we’ll have a party and at the party we’ll randomly choose one person, or one cause, or one organization from a whole list of possibilities, and we’ll drop the whole jar of perfume on them. That is, we’ll get one of those giant cardboard checks and we’ll take every last cent that’s in that account and we’ll write it on the amount line. And we’ll write the name of the cause or the person or the organization on the “pay to the order of” line. And for good measure, we’ll write on the memo line: “The whole jar of perfume.” I mean, we’ll collect suggestions from all of you about who you want to drop $5000 or $10,000 or $25,000 on, and at the party we’ll choose one, and then we’ll surprise them with it. And how about this? The only ones who get to make suggestions about where the money will go or who might get it will be the children of this church. If you want to nominate a worthy cause or a needy situation, you have to talk to someone under the age of 18 and persuade them that you have a good idea; good enough that they’ll put their good name to it. Can you imagine what fun that kind of foolishness would be? An unexpected recipient, receiving an impacting amount, on the counsel of the children of the church. Look, we’ve got a church budget. And if we don’t make the budget – and this year it’s not looking good – we are going to have to face the possibility that we will have to stand down from some of our collective commitments. And ultimately that could mean cutting staff or reducing outreach. And it pains us to think about that. But pain isn’t going to motivate us toward generosity. Only joy will do that. And isn’t it time we had some fun? Maybe some foolishness? The thing is, we have the resources to be both responsible and foolish. The real question is whether we have the heart to be generous. Amen. Kurt Borgmann Manchester Church of the Brethren November 23, 2008 |
