Dt 26:1-11
24 February 2010
Ecumenical Lenten service
“Empty Your Cup”
Once upon a time, in a faraway place, the master had a
visitor who came to inquire about wisdom.
But instead of listening, the visitor kept talking about his own
concerns and giving his own thoughts on the matter.
After a while, the master served tea. He poured the steaming liquid into his
visitor’s cup until it was full, and then he kept on pouring.
Finally the visitor could bear it no longer. “Don’t you see that my cup is full?” he
exclaimed. “It’s not possible to get
anymore in.”
“That is true,” the master said, stopping at last. “And like this cup, you are filled with your
own ideas. How can you expect me to give
you wisdom unless you first empty your cup?”
We tend to be the same way.
We tend to be filled with our own thoughts, our own opinions. Sometimes we don’t hesitate to inflict them
on others, no matter how asinine they may be.
Just like the fellow in the story who professed to be seeking wisdom,
there’s no more room in our tea
cups.
Every year, the church observes a season, which, if
properly approached, helps us to deal with making room in our cups. “Lent is the process of emptying our cups,” says
Joan Chittister. (She’s at Mount St.
Benedict, which is the Benedictine monastery just east of Erie, PA.)
“Lent is the time for trimming the soul and scraping the
sludge off a life turned slipshod.”[1] It’s a time for getting rid of the junk in
our lives. That’s part of what spiritual
formation is all about, which is a day-to-day, year-round process. Still, it’s important to have this business
of Lenten renewal as a special focus.
Many people believe that Lent is meant to be a time of doom
and gloom, of self-flagellation. And
some people do beat themselves up,
symbolically if not physically. But in
reality, what does that accomplish?
Maybe there is a feeling of
self-sacrifice, of extra holiness, by giving up certain things—and making sure
everyone else hears all about it!
But does that deal with the problem of being full of
ourselves? Doesn’t approaching Lent with
that attitude only substitute one set of problems for another? Outwardly, it may look like we’re serving
God, but Lent is about more than what we’re giving up. It’s about what we need.
Consider Jesus, who for forty days was out in the
desert. He went without food, but he was
full of the Holy Spirit. He emptied
himself; he allowed God to fill him. And
what better way to go about the process of self-emptying than by the way of
humble gratitude? That’s what lies
behind the ritual in our Old Testament reading in Deuteronomy 26.
The chapter begins, “When you have come into the land that
the Lord your God is giving you” (v. 1).
There’s already a note of grace…of gift.
So what follows after that? Is
there a warning about giving something up to God so that you won’t look too
spiritual? Hardly! Just as with Lent, outward actions do
matter. How we go about them is a
different question.
This ritual has outward and inward action. Outward action is mentioned in verses 2 and
10: bringing “the first of the fruit of
the ground that you, O Lord, have given me.”
You’ve heard people claim to be self-made? Well, according to this, there’s no such
creature. Everything we have, even the
language to express our thoughts, has been provided by someone else.
Inward action is found in the response starting at verse 5,
which comes after the priest has collected the offering. We hear the phrase, “A wandering Aramean was
my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien.” (Aram is the land later called Syria.) That “wandering Aramean” is Jacob, whose name
was later changed to Israel.
As the response continues through the next verses, we’re
reminded of the fate of the Israelites.
As they became an increasingly larger minority population within Egypt,
they were met with greater hostility.
The treatment by the Egyptians got so bad that the Israelites were
forced to leave. Bad move on the
Egyptians’ part. They lost a lot of good,
low-income workers!
The point is that this ritual is a continual reminder to
the Israelites that they themselves are the descendants of immigrants,
foreigners who were harshly dealt with.
The inward action this should
inspire is the humble gratitude I mentioned earlier. It’s really hard to be full of yourself when
you’re aware of all this stuff.
One writer has said, “The overwhelming message is
one of deep thankfulness for what God has done for them…In this ritual the
people are to remember where they came from and who brought them to this
place.”[2]
Okay, let’s review! We
began with the idea of our tea cups being full, so to speak. We’re so filled with our own thoughts and
opinions that it’s hard to allow room for God.
We need to empty ourselves; that’s a big part of what Lent is all
about. Being humbly grateful is an
excellent way of emptying our cups. It’s
a great way of admitting that we don’t know everything.
The ritual described in Deuteronomy 26 has that in
mind. The people are reminded that
they’ve been given the land they inhabit.
They need to make a confession of faith; they need to state out loud, “I
know that my ancestors were refugees. In
time, their treatment became so severe that God had to deliver them. That’s why I bring this offering of the first
fruit.”
And so, that’s the end of that! (Not exactly.) Hear verse 11: “Then you, together with the Levites and the
aliens who reside among you, shall celebrate with all the bounty that the Lord
your God has given to you and to your house.”
Invite the resident aliens to the celebration.
What would it mean for us today to “celebrate with all the
bounty” the Lord has given us with resident aliens? And would that include undocumented
workers? Would we have to increase their
pay from near slave-labor levels? But if
we did that, we would have to pay a little more for the crops they harvest and
the services they provide! Oh, well…
It’s also been noted, “While Deuteronomy may have some things to teach us about a response to God’s gifts, we cannot miss the fact that in Deuteronomy, the gift of the land to the Israelites came at the expense of the dispossession of others.”[3] When we dehumanize people, when we torture people, there’s not much moral high ground left to claim.
Still, the
political factors are only a symptom of deeper spiritual issues. Again, as Joan Chittister says, “Lent is the time to make new efforts to be what we say we want to be.”[4] Lent challenges the easy answers.
But what does that
mean? How does Lent challenge the easy answers? Here’s an example. In America, we’re taught to pad our resumé;
do whatever it takes to make ourselves look good. We’re told that more is better. If our cup is overflowing, then let it
overflow, baby!
Our Lenten journey leads us to the glory of Easter. Now there’s some big-time bounty, major
overabundance! However, to arrive at
that destination, we have to take the way of the cross. The cross turns all of our usual expectations
about life upside down.
The model for Lent, with all its
sorrow and joy, is Jesus. During his
forty days in the wilderness, Jesus rejects the devil’s apparently quite
reasonable suggestions. If you have the
power, why not do what it takes to prove it?
Why not take over the world?
Think of all the good you could do!
I’ll close with some questions. What does Lent mean for us, right here, right now? How do we share our treasure in Christ with those who are strangers to us? (That may even be our next-door neighbor.) How do we empty our cups; how do we empty ourselves? That is what the Lenten journey is all about.