11 November 2018
Love doesn’t come from the top down, but from the bottom up.
I always knew him as the Monopoly man. Mr. Monopoly. Well, this week, I discovered his real name. Milburn Pennybags! Rich Uncle Pennybags, to his friends! He made his appearance in the mid-30’s edition of the board game. On community chest and chance cards. Eventually, he worked his way into the second “o” of Monopoly! Top hat. Cane. Dressed to the nines! He was Parker Brothers’ version of Mr. Peanut! In 2006, according to Forbes magazine, Milburn Pennybags was listed as the sixth richest fictional character in the world! Five years later, after the Great Recession, he’d fallen to number nine. And it’s to him – and people like him – that we look as the true philanthropists of the world!
Patrons. Benefactors. Angels. No matter what the endeavor, generosity is rooted in abundance. In excess, actually. In order to give, a person must have. In order to give more, a person must have more. That’s the way it works. And so, when we hear about philanthropy, about generosity, about charity, we look to the wealthy. Bill and Melissa Gates. Elon Musk. Jeff Bezos. Mark Zuckerberg. Warren Buffett. Sam Walton. All people who make the world a different place because of their incredible wealth. We look to the top one percent for their giving. While the other ninety-nine don’t do much of anything but stand by and watch. We have bills to pay. Leases. Mortgages. Loans. Insurance. Utilities. Food. All the rest. By the time we think about giving, there’s nothing left to give. And we wait for people like rich Uncle Pennybags to step up to the plate. To do what we only dream of doing. Because giving, you see, has become a luxury only the movers and shakers can afford. We watch as they make the world a better place. We step back and imagine. . . one day. . . what we would do. . . when we win the lottery. . .
Think about that, for a moment, as I re-read the first couple verses from the passage from 1st Kings. “Then the word of the Lord came to [Elijah], saying, ‘Go now to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you.’”
“Go to Zarephath; for I have commanded a widow to feed you.”
Not one of the haves, but one of the haven’ts. Not affluent, but penniless. Not wealthy, but poor. But then, that’s the way it always works in scripture. God doesn’t send Elijah to a captain of industry. God doesn’t send Elijah to a business tycoon. God doesn’t send Elijah to a successful industrialist or a billionaire hedge fund manager. God doesn’t sent the prophet to people who could easily provide for him. Instead, god sends him to a widow. A poor widow, at that! With nothing more than a handful of meal and a little of oil. To a widow and her child who have only enough for one, last, supper. We here in the church have come to believe that love isn’t just the birthright of the rich. It’s not. Even more, it’s the privilege of the destitute.
The story about Elijah and the widow – a story far from being the only one in scripture – the story shows us that god’s love enters the world in the most unexpected places, at the most unexpected times, in the most unexpected ways, through the most unexpected people! But unfortunately, with our skewed outlook on believing, we think we’re the ones responsible for feeding the widow. Turns out, she’s there to feed us! From our vantage point, she and her son are objects of pity. Instead, they’re the ones extending sympathy and compassion! From our perspective, they can’t live without us. Can’t live. Can’t survive. But just the opposite is true.
You see, that’s where the world – at least, our little corner – gets it wrong. We believe that since she has nothing, she has nothing to offer. That until she gets something, anything, she’s unable to share. For us, as Americans, love is an expression, a byproduct, of excess. But for god, for god, love is the fruit of scarcity. It’s not the wealthy, the rich, who love. It’s the lowest! The least. Always the widow among us. The widow and her daughter. The widow and her son.
It’s been interesting, these past few months. When people hear we’re considering selling this building, they act as if our life as a church is over! They look at us as if we’re a widow! Only a handful! Just a little! On good days, getting by, making do, hand to mouth,. And because we have nothing, they think we have nothing to give. Since we’re not like good, old Uncle Milburn! Successful! Prosperous! They’re of the opinion that for love to be love, it has to come from somewhere up the ladder. Bright. Shiny. New. So, like all widows, we get pushed aside and left behind. Forgotten, lost, among the shadows. Eking out an existence until the meal and the oil, finally, run out.
As the Lord your God lives, says the widow, I have nothing. . . As the Lord your God lives, I am no one. . . We are no one. . . But the prophet, softly, tenderly, says, “Don’t be afraid. Feed me. Feed yourselves.” Love, he says. Just love!
Of all the people in Zarephath, that day, god sends Elijah to this particular, to this peculiar, woman. And in her lack, in her poverty, she feeds him! SHE feeds HIM! That’s how love works! Centuries before Jesus, she and her son pick up their cross and they follow! The world considers it weakness, foolishness. But they know it for what it is. The wisdom and the power of god! We look for love from entitled and privileged. We think the world will, one day, be fed through abundance and surplus. But god sends, instead, the humble and the meek. God provides through scarcity and lack.
Love doesn’t cascade and inundate. Love doesn’t, even, trickle down. It bubbles up. It rises from beneath our feet. From the most insignificant. From the least likely. From mangers and stables. From crosses and graves. Love bubbles up and rises from congregations across the country just like this one! Congregations struggling to make ends meet! Struggling not to grow, but simply to survive! On the edge! At risk! Doing without! Taking nothing for granted! Vulnerable! Threatened! Exposed!
But love’s not about what we have. Any more than it’s about what we haven’t. Love isn’t something we ration or budget. It’s not something we dole out or apportion. Love is something we offer. It’s something we give. My friends, god doesn’t send Elijah to Uncle Milburn to be fed. Instead, god sends him to the widow. To the poor widow. To the poor widow and her son. And god sends him to us, as well. God sends him even to us. . .