Do the right thing
Commentary
Object:
There is a series of television advertisements about a financial company that puts forward the thesis that their business supposedly "does the right thing." In order to get such a message across, short vignettes are shown of people who "do the right thing" in a variety of compromised social circumstances. The implication is that when we do the right thing people's lives (including our own) are better, and that if corporations do the right thing everybody benefits.
Whatever the value of those ads or the rightness or wrongness of the message about that financial organization, the idea rings true. That's why Spike Lee chose it as the title of his highly acclaimed movie 1989 about racial tensions in Brooklyn, New York. Things can get out of hand quickly, and the darker dimensions of our social and personal demons rip the fabric of decency into painful shreds. Sometimes we need to come to our senses and finally "do the right thing" to change the course of life.
This is not something that happens easily among us, nor will it become the trajectory of human history apart from God's intervening redemptive grace. Each of our passages today reminds us of these things. The voice of God through Isaiah declares that God will always do the right thing for God's people. Paul confesses to the Philippian church that he did not always do the right thing but had to learn what truly matters, and that only what is done in Christ is the right thing. When Jesus pauses for a meal with his friends in his final days before crucifixion, a woman does a wildly and seemingly decadent right thing that is grossly misinterpreted but highly suggestive of every right thing that has ever been done.
When the last song is sung and the last blessing pronounced, it is important that we understand what it means to do the right thing. And that we do it.
Isaiah 43:16-21
There were two great threats to the people of God during the time of Isaiah. The first was specter of Assyria looming threateningly over everything. Assyria was the world superpower, rolling like a packing machine over every country in sight. Recently (in 722 BC), Judah's northern sister neighbor Israel had succumbed to its fierce armies and was obliterated from the register of nations entirely. Under Sennacherib, these same fighting forces wasted all of the cities of Judah except Jerusalem, and only a divine miracle sent the horde packing on the eve of a similar destruction spree.
King Hezekiah and the prophet Isaiah knew well from where Judah's deliverance had come. Yahweh remained in charge, even as international politics played out their nasty scenes. Yet even as Jerusalem reveled in the post-miracle beyond-belief deliverance from Assyria, darkness loomed on the horizon. While the military might of Assyria slunk tail-between-legs back to Nineveh, the eastern reaches of the empire plotted revolution. Babylon was rising in self-importance and intended not merely the overthrow of its master, but also the conquest of the world.
Isaiah warned Hezekiah about the Babylonian threat (Isaiah 39), particularly because the king had begun a secret negotiation with envoys as a political hedge against Assyrian resurgence. The Babylonians mounted their campaigns, and in the battle of Carchemish (612 BC) routed their overlords. Canaan, including Hezekiah's Judah, fell into Babylonian hands. Within three decades the new world power had thrice besieged Jerusalem (607, 597, 586 BC) and the remnant of Israel was exiled.
But Yahweh, the God of the covenant, made promises through Isaiah that God would always do the right thing for his people. In anticipation of the return that would come, today's lectionary reading announces divine commitments that the Jews could take to the bank. Soon and very soon the way back would be opened, and Judah would be restored to live again in the prosperity of God's promises.
Philippians 3:4b-14
* Sometime in the spring of 57 AD Paul arrived in Rome, several years after his trumped-up arrest in Jerusalem (Acts 21). While he was clearly a prisoner, awaiting adjudication before Caesar himself, Paul was also a Roman citizen with rights and freedoms. Since the charges against him were sectarian (Jewish religious practices) rather than capital crimes, Paul was able to establish his own living circumstances within the larger palace precincts, while remaining under a type of house arrest.
* Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies, and it greatly enhanced Paul's comfort in his limited circumstances.
* Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30) and only very recently had returned to full health.
* Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus' grave malady and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things, so Paul penned Philippians, probably sometime in early 58 AD.
* Paul's letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul's confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1). Almost without needing to do so, Paul reminds the congregation of the great example of Jesus, who gave up everything in order to express the love of God to us (Philippians 2:1-18). Another example of this selfless care is found in Timothy and Epaphroditus, each of whom had given up much in order to serve others, especially the faith community in Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30). More encouragement to serve follows, with Paul reflecting on his own changes of behavior and value systems once he was gripped by the love of God in Jesus (Philippians 3), and the powerful passage we reflect upon today.
The story of the expansion of Christianity is intimately connected, at its beginnings, to the person of Paul. While the specific details of his conversion are told in Acts 9, a larger portrait of Paul emerges in snippets from his letters. Today's New Testament reading tells us that Paul's parents were strict observant Jews ("circumcised on the eighth day"), openly religious ("of the people of Israel"), conscious of their family history and lineage ("of the tribe of Benjamin"), and careful to maintain ethnic purity ("a Hebrew of Hebrews"). Added to these bits of information come notes found in Paul's personal testimony in Acts 22-23. He was raised in a Diaspora Jewish community in Tarsus (22:3), a Roman citizen from birth (22:8), and aligned through parental influence with the Pharisees in the sociopolitical mix of first-century Jewish culture (23:6).
Paul's Hellenic name was popular throughout the Roman world and may have been a simple cognate to his familial Hebrew name, "Saul." This appellation might have shown the family's pride in its Benjamite roots since Israel's first king (of the same name) was from that tribe. Paul seems to have taken pride in his vocational training outside of the religious instruction he received, for he reminded the Corinthian congregation that while he was with them he "worked with [my] own hands" (1 Corinthians 4:12). When Luke reports on Paul's stay in Corinth, he mentions that Paul was busy in the marketplace plying his trade as a "tentmaker" (Acts 18:3).
Of his religious education, Paul's instruction was at the top of the Jewish mountain, literally and figuratively. Although born in Tarsus, his family must have had high hopes for him in religious leadership, for he told a Jerusalem audience that he was "brought up in this city" and that "under Gamaliel I was trained in the law" (Acts 22:3). It appears likely that Paul showed early promise in synagogue studies in Tarsus and that his rabbi or the community thought he was a prime candidate to learn from the leading Jewish teacher of the day, Rabban Gamaliel, in Jerusalem. Since at the time of his arrest there Paul had a sister living in Jerusalem (Acts 23:16), it might have been that she was sent to establish a house in the city so that Paul could be safe and under family care while he studied with Gamaliel.
Not surprisingly, Gamaliel was a bright light among the Pharisees, and under both Paul's father's and teacher's influences, Paul forthrightly adopted that religious perspective and lifestyle as well (Acts 23:6). He excelled in passion and the integration of his studies, for he said that it was out of his religious zeal that he began to persecute the church and even more that "as for legalistic righteousness" he was "faultless" (Philippians 3:6). Paul lived and breathed his religious identity with a passion that was true and straight and unyielding. If he were among us today, he would be a corporate CEO or a national leader or a charismatic authoritarian cult figure.
Then Jesus confronted him (Acts 9), and suddenly Paul needed to rethink the whole of his theology and practices. The outcome was a synthesis between zealous conservative Judaism and energetic Christian missionary engagement. But it no longer had Paul at its center, nor any formalized codes or structures. Instead, knowing Jesus and the power of his resurrection had transformed Paul into a passionate lover of Jesus and the mission of God's grace in these changing times.
As Paul writes to his good friends in Philippi, he encourages them to do the right thing and follow in his pattern of values and behaviors. Give up the transient medals and honors that put us in the spotlight of fleeting fame for fifteen minutes, and focus instead on what really matters -- being joined to the one who loved us from eternity so that we might find a life to live for eternity.
John 12:1-8
In 1966 evangelist Martin Higgenbottem was one of the main speakers at the Berlin World Congress on Evangelism. He told the gathering that his life of devotion and service had to do with his mother. He remembered coming home from school one afternoon to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a strange man. The fellow was obviously someone who lived on the streets. His clothes were filthy, his hair was slicked with unwashed grease, and his body smelled of a mixture of unkind odors.
But Martin's mother was chatting pleasantly with him while they devoured a plate of sandwiches together. She had gone shopping that morning and found him cold and hungry, so she brought him home with her.
When the man was ready to leave he said passionately, "I wish there were more people in the world like you!"
Martin's mother casually threw the compliment aside. "Oh," she said, "there are! You just have to look for them!"
The man broke down. He shook his head and tears rolled across his cheeks. "But lady!" he said, "I didn't have to look for you! You looked for me!"
There is something of this symbiotic relationship between Jesus and us and the poor all wrapped up into today's gospel lesson. John has made it clear that Jesus is on his way to the cross as the Passover Lamb (cf. John 1:29). His death will be the means by which the light of re-creation penetrates and floods this darkened world (John 1:1-18), where sin and evil have polluted everything, and caused even poverty to become a resident alien in God's good earth. Jesus sees those who have been overwhelmed by the evil of this world's darkness. Jesus gives himself as the sacrifice to redeem and release them. Those who see this in Jesus honor him as Savior and Lord. They love Jesus and show it through acts of devotion such as that performed by Mary in our passage for today. When they honor Jesus in this manner, they also begin to have new eyes for the poor. It is a cycle of behavior in which all are blessed.
Jesus' disciples are appalled at the wastefulness of Mary's capricious doings. But Jesus binds everything into a single message about doing the right thing. If we love Jesus, we will love the poor. And if we love the poor, it is only because we first love Jesus who cares deeply about the poor, abandoned in the darkness of a compromised world to which he brings the light of re-creation. Do the right thing.
Application
In The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis talked about the idea of rewards in the Christian faith. Yes, he said, God promises us a reward for what we do in his name. But that doesn't make us mercenaries, giving in order to get, selling our good deeds on the open market.
If a man would marry a woman with great wealth in order to get her money for himself, said Lewis, we would call him mercenary, and rightly so! We would thumb our noses at him and be appalled at his audacity!
But if a man marries a rich woman only because he expects the reward of love, said Lewis, we would think him the greatest fellow on earth! He would be getting his reward, but it would actually be the fulfillment of what he is himself giving to the other! His reward is the extension of his gift!
So it is with us, says Lewis. We give of ourselves in Christian charity. We give of our time, our talents, and our money. As Jesus says, God will reward us.
But what will that reward be? A million dollars? A life without sickness or cancer? A public declaration of our good deeds?
No.
The reward, as Paul wrote to the Philippians, is simply to become one with LOVE itself, to give as we have been given, to share in the delights of his sharing, to stretch our souls and to find ourselves.
"I think," said Annie Dillard, "that the dying prayer at last is not 'please,' but 'thank you,' as a guest thanks his host at the door."
She is right. Life on earth is not about a demand for recognition, but a quiet "thank-you" for all that we have been able to see and show and share.
That doesn't necessarily make good copy in the morning newspaper. Nor does it necessarily mean that we will be "successful" in life, at least in the ways many count success.
King Oswin, an early ruler of a northern territory in Britain, once gave his prize stallion to the local bishop as a token of appreciation. As the bishop traveled he met a beggar along the road. Since the man had nothing at all, the bishop got off his fine steed and put the reins in the man's hand. "Take him!" ordered the bishop. "Sell him and live! He's all I have to give you."
When King Oswin found out what the bishop had done he said, "Why didn't you send him to me? We have dozens of old horses that are more fitting for a beggar!"
The bishop quietly asked, "Is that stallion worth more than a child of God?"
King Oswin thought about the question for a moment and suddenly threw off his royal robes, falling at the bishop's feet and crying to God for forgiveness. The bishop blessed him and sent him away in peace. But for a long time he stared after the king with sorrowful eyes. When one asked him why he was so troubled, bishop Adrian replied: "I know that the king will not live long, for I have never seen a king so humble as he is. He will be taken from us, as the country is not worthy to have such a king."
His words proved true. In 651 the king was murdered by a neighboring rival who used Oswin's own kindness to gain an audience. And the world was poorer that day.
But you are still here, and I am still here. Do we see the needs of others around us? Are our eyes open to the plight of the poor and the troubles of the destitute? Are we aware?
More than that, will we take whatever God has given us and put it at the disposal of others? Will we see our goods and property as a loan on deposit from God to be shared in his name as others call for it? Will we share?
And perhaps most of all, do we care? Says Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself." Is that the gift we give? Do we care? Do our hearts stretch out with the love of Jesus? Does compassion flow in our veins? Have we found his reward in the act of love?
Are we ready to learn from the one who has pledge to us to "do the right thing"? And will we "do the right thing" in response?
An Alternative Application
John 12:1-8. There's a wonderful story told about Fiorello LaGuardia. He was mayor of New York City during the Great Depression, and today one of the city's airports is named after him.
Before he became mayor he served for a time as a police court judge. One cold winter's day they brought a man to him who was charged with stealing a loaf of bread. LaGuardia asked him if he was guilty. The man nodded. He had taken the bread because his family was starving and he had no money to buy food. What was he to do?
The law bound LaGuardia. "I've got to punish you," he told the man. "The law makes no exceptions! I fine you $10!"And he brought down his gavel.
But where would the man get the money for the fine? Now they would have to throw him in jail as well!
LaGuardia wasn't finished, though. He already had his hand on his wallet. He pulled out a ten-dollar bill, handed it to the bailiff, and said: "Here's the money for your fine."
Then he took back the ten-dollar bill, put it into his hat, handed the hat to the bailiff, and said, "I'm going to suspend the sentence and I'm going to fine everyone here in the courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a man has to steal bread in order to eat!"
When the man left the courtroom that day he had the light of life in his eyes and $47.50 in his pocket!
Whatever the value of those ads or the rightness or wrongness of the message about that financial organization, the idea rings true. That's why Spike Lee chose it as the title of his highly acclaimed movie 1989 about racial tensions in Brooklyn, New York. Things can get out of hand quickly, and the darker dimensions of our social and personal demons rip the fabric of decency into painful shreds. Sometimes we need to come to our senses and finally "do the right thing" to change the course of life.
This is not something that happens easily among us, nor will it become the trajectory of human history apart from God's intervening redemptive grace. Each of our passages today reminds us of these things. The voice of God through Isaiah declares that God will always do the right thing for God's people. Paul confesses to the Philippian church that he did not always do the right thing but had to learn what truly matters, and that only what is done in Christ is the right thing. When Jesus pauses for a meal with his friends in his final days before crucifixion, a woman does a wildly and seemingly decadent right thing that is grossly misinterpreted but highly suggestive of every right thing that has ever been done.
When the last song is sung and the last blessing pronounced, it is important that we understand what it means to do the right thing. And that we do it.
Isaiah 43:16-21
There were two great threats to the people of God during the time of Isaiah. The first was specter of Assyria looming threateningly over everything. Assyria was the world superpower, rolling like a packing machine over every country in sight. Recently (in 722 BC), Judah's northern sister neighbor Israel had succumbed to its fierce armies and was obliterated from the register of nations entirely. Under Sennacherib, these same fighting forces wasted all of the cities of Judah except Jerusalem, and only a divine miracle sent the horde packing on the eve of a similar destruction spree.
King Hezekiah and the prophet Isaiah knew well from where Judah's deliverance had come. Yahweh remained in charge, even as international politics played out their nasty scenes. Yet even as Jerusalem reveled in the post-miracle beyond-belief deliverance from Assyria, darkness loomed on the horizon. While the military might of Assyria slunk tail-between-legs back to Nineveh, the eastern reaches of the empire plotted revolution. Babylon was rising in self-importance and intended not merely the overthrow of its master, but also the conquest of the world.
Isaiah warned Hezekiah about the Babylonian threat (Isaiah 39), particularly because the king had begun a secret negotiation with envoys as a political hedge against Assyrian resurgence. The Babylonians mounted their campaigns, and in the battle of Carchemish (612 BC) routed their overlords. Canaan, including Hezekiah's Judah, fell into Babylonian hands. Within three decades the new world power had thrice besieged Jerusalem (607, 597, 586 BC) and the remnant of Israel was exiled.
But Yahweh, the God of the covenant, made promises through Isaiah that God would always do the right thing for his people. In anticipation of the return that would come, today's lectionary reading announces divine commitments that the Jews could take to the bank. Soon and very soon the way back would be opened, and Judah would be restored to live again in the prosperity of God's promises.
Philippians 3:4b-14
* Sometime in the spring of 57 AD Paul arrived in Rome, several years after his trumped-up arrest in Jerusalem (Acts 21). While he was clearly a prisoner, awaiting adjudication before Caesar himself, Paul was also a Roman citizen with rights and freedoms. Since the charges against him were sectarian (Jewish religious practices) rather than capital crimes, Paul was able to establish his own living circumstances within the larger palace precincts, while remaining under a type of house arrest.
* Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies, and it greatly enhanced Paul's comfort in his limited circumstances.
* Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30) and only very recently had returned to full health.
* Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus' grave malady and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things, so Paul penned Philippians, probably sometime in early 58 AD.
* Paul's letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul's confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1). Almost without needing to do so, Paul reminds the congregation of the great example of Jesus, who gave up everything in order to express the love of God to us (Philippians 2:1-18). Another example of this selfless care is found in Timothy and Epaphroditus, each of whom had given up much in order to serve others, especially the faith community in Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30). More encouragement to serve follows, with Paul reflecting on his own changes of behavior and value systems once he was gripped by the love of God in Jesus (Philippians 3), and the powerful passage we reflect upon today.
The story of the expansion of Christianity is intimately connected, at its beginnings, to the person of Paul. While the specific details of his conversion are told in Acts 9, a larger portrait of Paul emerges in snippets from his letters. Today's New Testament reading tells us that Paul's parents were strict observant Jews ("circumcised on the eighth day"), openly religious ("of the people of Israel"), conscious of their family history and lineage ("of the tribe of Benjamin"), and careful to maintain ethnic purity ("a Hebrew of Hebrews"). Added to these bits of information come notes found in Paul's personal testimony in Acts 22-23. He was raised in a Diaspora Jewish community in Tarsus (22:3), a Roman citizen from birth (22:8), and aligned through parental influence with the Pharisees in the sociopolitical mix of first-century Jewish culture (23:6).
Paul's Hellenic name was popular throughout the Roman world and may have been a simple cognate to his familial Hebrew name, "Saul." This appellation might have shown the family's pride in its Benjamite roots since Israel's first king (of the same name) was from that tribe. Paul seems to have taken pride in his vocational training outside of the religious instruction he received, for he reminded the Corinthian congregation that while he was with them he "worked with [my] own hands" (1 Corinthians 4:12). When Luke reports on Paul's stay in Corinth, he mentions that Paul was busy in the marketplace plying his trade as a "tentmaker" (Acts 18:3).
Of his religious education, Paul's instruction was at the top of the Jewish mountain, literally and figuratively. Although born in Tarsus, his family must have had high hopes for him in religious leadership, for he told a Jerusalem audience that he was "brought up in this city" and that "under Gamaliel I was trained in the law" (Acts 22:3). It appears likely that Paul showed early promise in synagogue studies in Tarsus and that his rabbi or the community thought he was a prime candidate to learn from the leading Jewish teacher of the day, Rabban Gamaliel, in Jerusalem. Since at the time of his arrest there Paul had a sister living in Jerusalem (Acts 23:16), it might have been that she was sent to establish a house in the city so that Paul could be safe and under family care while he studied with Gamaliel.
Not surprisingly, Gamaliel was a bright light among the Pharisees, and under both Paul's father's and teacher's influences, Paul forthrightly adopted that religious perspective and lifestyle as well (Acts 23:6). He excelled in passion and the integration of his studies, for he said that it was out of his religious zeal that he began to persecute the church and even more that "as for legalistic righteousness" he was "faultless" (Philippians 3:6). Paul lived and breathed his religious identity with a passion that was true and straight and unyielding. If he were among us today, he would be a corporate CEO or a national leader or a charismatic authoritarian cult figure.
Then Jesus confronted him (Acts 9), and suddenly Paul needed to rethink the whole of his theology and practices. The outcome was a synthesis between zealous conservative Judaism and energetic Christian missionary engagement. But it no longer had Paul at its center, nor any formalized codes or structures. Instead, knowing Jesus and the power of his resurrection had transformed Paul into a passionate lover of Jesus and the mission of God's grace in these changing times.
As Paul writes to his good friends in Philippi, he encourages them to do the right thing and follow in his pattern of values and behaviors. Give up the transient medals and honors that put us in the spotlight of fleeting fame for fifteen minutes, and focus instead on what really matters -- being joined to the one who loved us from eternity so that we might find a life to live for eternity.
John 12:1-8
In 1966 evangelist Martin Higgenbottem was one of the main speakers at the Berlin World Congress on Evangelism. He told the gathering that his life of devotion and service had to do with his mother. He remembered coming home from school one afternoon to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a strange man. The fellow was obviously someone who lived on the streets. His clothes were filthy, his hair was slicked with unwashed grease, and his body smelled of a mixture of unkind odors.
But Martin's mother was chatting pleasantly with him while they devoured a plate of sandwiches together. She had gone shopping that morning and found him cold and hungry, so she brought him home with her.
When the man was ready to leave he said passionately, "I wish there were more people in the world like you!"
Martin's mother casually threw the compliment aside. "Oh," she said, "there are! You just have to look for them!"
The man broke down. He shook his head and tears rolled across his cheeks. "But lady!" he said, "I didn't have to look for you! You looked for me!"
There is something of this symbiotic relationship between Jesus and us and the poor all wrapped up into today's gospel lesson. John has made it clear that Jesus is on his way to the cross as the Passover Lamb (cf. John 1:29). His death will be the means by which the light of re-creation penetrates and floods this darkened world (John 1:1-18), where sin and evil have polluted everything, and caused even poverty to become a resident alien in God's good earth. Jesus sees those who have been overwhelmed by the evil of this world's darkness. Jesus gives himself as the sacrifice to redeem and release them. Those who see this in Jesus honor him as Savior and Lord. They love Jesus and show it through acts of devotion such as that performed by Mary in our passage for today. When they honor Jesus in this manner, they also begin to have new eyes for the poor. It is a cycle of behavior in which all are blessed.
Jesus' disciples are appalled at the wastefulness of Mary's capricious doings. But Jesus binds everything into a single message about doing the right thing. If we love Jesus, we will love the poor. And if we love the poor, it is only because we first love Jesus who cares deeply about the poor, abandoned in the darkness of a compromised world to which he brings the light of re-creation. Do the right thing.
Application
In The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis talked about the idea of rewards in the Christian faith. Yes, he said, God promises us a reward for what we do in his name. But that doesn't make us mercenaries, giving in order to get, selling our good deeds on the open market.
If a man would marry a woman with great wealth in order to get her money for himself, said Lewis, we would call him mercenary, and rightly so! We would thumb our noses at him and be appalled at his audacity!
But if a man marries a rich woman only because he expects the reward of love, said Lewis, we would think him the greatest fellow on earth! He would be getting his reward, but it would actually be the fulfillment of what he is himself giving to the other! His reward is the extension of his gift!
So it is with us, says Lewis. We give of ourselves in Christian charity. We give of our time, our talents, and our money. As Jesus says, God will reward us.
But what will that reward be? A million dollars? A life without sickness or cancer? A public declaration of our good deeds?
No.
The reward, as Paul wrote to the Philippians, is simply to become one with LOVE itself, to give as we have been given, to share in the delights of his sharing, to stretch our souls and to find ourselves.
"I think," said Annie Dillard, "that the dying prayer at last is not 'please,' but 'thank you,' as a guest thanks his host at the door."
She is right. Life on earth is not about a demand for recognition, but a quiet "thank-you" for all that we have been able to see and show and share.
That doesn't necessarily make good copy in the morning newspaper. Nor does it necessarily mean that we will be "successful" in life, at least in the ways many count success.
King Oswin, an early ruler of a northern territory in Britain, once gave his prize stallion to the local bishop as a token of appreciation. As the bishop traveled he met a beggar along the road. Since the man had nothing at all, the bishop got off his fine steed and put the reins in the man's hand. "Take him!" ordered the bishop. "Sell him and live! He's all I have to give you."
When King Oswin found out what the bishop had done he said, "Why didn't you send him to me? We have dozens of old horses that are more fitting for a beggar!"
The bishop quietly asked, "Is that stallion worth more than a child of God?"
King Oswin thought about the question for a moment and suddenly threw off his royal robes, falling at the bishop's feet and crying to God for forgiveness. The bishop blessed him and sent him away in peace. But for a long time he stared after the king with sorrowful eyes. When one asked him why he was so troubled, bishop Adrian replied: "I know that the king will not live long, for I have never seen a king so humble as he is. He will be taken from us, as the country is not worthy to have such a king."
His words proved true. In 651 the king was murdered by a neighboring rival who used Oswin's own kindness to gain an audience. And the world was poorer that day.
But you are still here, and I am still here. Do we see the needs of others around us? Are our eyes open to the plight of the poor and the troubles of the destitute? Are we aware?
More than that, will we take whatever God has given us and put it at the disposal of others? Will we see our goods and property as a loan on deposit from God to be shared in his name as others call for it? Will we share?
And perhaps most of all, do we care? Says Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself." Is that the gift we give? Do we care? Do our hearts stretch out with the love of Jesus? Does compassion flow in our veins? Have we found his reward in the act of love?
Are we ready to learn from the one who has pledge to us to "do the right thing"? And will we "do the right thing" in response?
An Alternative Application
John 12:1-8. There's a wonderful story told about Fiorello LaGuardia. He was mayor of New York City during the Great Depression, and today one of the city's airports is named after him.
Before he became mayor he served for a time as a police court judge. One cold winter's day they brought a man to him who was charged with stealing a loaf of bread. LaGuardia asked him if he was guilty. The man nodded. He had taken the bread because his family was starving and he had no money to buy food. What was he to do?
The law bound LaGuardia. "I've got to punish you," he told the man. "The law makes no exceptions! I fine you $10!"And he brought down his gavel.
But where would the man get the money for the fine? Now they would have to throw him in jail as well!
LaGuardia wasn't finished, though. He already had his hand on his wallet. He pulled out a ten-dollar bill, handed it to the bailiff, and said: "Here's the money for your fine."
Then he took back the ten-dollar bill, put it into his hat, handed the hat to the bailiff, and said, "I'm going to suspend the sentence and I'm going to fine everyone here in the courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a man has to steal bread in order to eat!"
When the man left the courtroom that day he had the light of life in his eyes and $47.50 in his pocket!
