Another Fat Girl Rant

I have a friend who does not understand the depth of my frustration and pain as I continue to lose weight through healthier food choices and exercise.

In the past, I've had people assume that it's just the best thing ever and I must be loving my new body and the attention it brings me.

I'm in therapy because of my weight loss and the changes taking place in my body.

I cry about it. A lot.

I struggle to love and honor my body, sometimes over-training to the point of exhaustion, unable to function properly the next day, and yet I continue to work out anyway, because I'm willing to pay the physical cost of doing too much if I can avoid the emotional cost of doing less, even if intellectually I know my body needs a break and I am doing myself no favors by pushing myself beyond my limits.

Looking in the mirror, I see all of things that I still want to change about my body. I see all of the imperfections that could be perfected. I do not see the changes and how my body has gotten smaller, I only see how fat it still is and all the parts that do not look the way they are "supposed" to look.

Though self-loathing is hard enough to deal with in this fat-phobic culture in which we live, it is made even more difficult to stand against when well-meaning people make some of the most painfully degrading comments imaginable, with the intent of complimenting my weight loss.

"Wow!" said one woman, several years ago when I lost weight the first time.

"What?" I responded.

"I just got a glimpse of what a knock-out you're going to be if you keep losing weight."

Because my physical appearance is the only beautiful part of me, or at least the most important.

Though it was unrelated to this comment, I went on to regain 100 of the 150lbs I had lost.

Having re-lost that 100lbs and then a few more, I knew to expect the comments this time. I knew they were coming. I knew I would have to find a way to mentally re-frame them, because I cannot have the conversation in which I ask, "What is it you're really trying to communicate?" with every person I know. I wouldn't do it well and I do not want to alienate people who are simply trying to love me.

The remarks this time around are similar. I knew it was coming. I thought I would be prepared for it.

"I just can't get over how pretty you're becoming now that you've lost so much weight."

How pretty I'm becoming. Because I wasn't pretty before? My basic structure has stayed the same, there's just a bit less fat in my face.... Because beauty that comes closer to meeting the unrealistic physical standards in our society is more important than a beautiful spirit or beautiful acts or beautiful words?

"I just can't get over how beautiful you're getting! .... Do you think a man may be in your future?"

Because no one would want a fat woman? Because only the thin are deserving of love? Because my value as a human being is not only tied primarily to my appearance, but my ability to catch and keep a man?

Yes, I cry a lot about my weight loss and my changing body. Far more than I ever cried about being fat.

I spend more time looking in a mirror critiquing all of the parts that are not yet good enough. This, for the record, would be all of them.

The ironic part of all of this is that what motivated me initially to take better care of myself was not the insults or stares or abuse lobbed at me by our fat-phobic, fat-hating, fat-shaming culture.

Shame does NOT produce lasting change.

It was the unconditional love of my best friend who has always told me how beautiful I am at any size. It was her unconditional love and support and desire to not watch me die an early death that motivated me to take those first steps into greater health again.

And the frustrating response has been further body-shaming by a society that feels an intense need to control women by policing their bodies, always dictating that our value is wholly dependent on our appearance and relationship status, nothing else.

Now, as a thinker on the MBTI, I can tell you that if you want to capture my heart and get me excited and engaged, make me think. Start with the brain. Go hard-core intellectual on me.

The reverse holds true, and for that I am grateful.

If I am experiencing something emotionally and do not know how to process it, I'll intellectualize it and work through it, understanding it with my intellect so that I can discern why I'm having the emotional response I'm having or I can reset my emotional compass.

So, having looked at my body in the mirror (again) and having found all of the things I hate about my body (again) (and all of it), I decided to do some research. Surely there had to be resources somewhere. Surely, somewhere, some kind of scholarly article had been written about massive weight loss, the appearance of specific body regions, body dysmorphia, common experiences, and resources that help.

What I found in the first scholarly article returned in my search results was published on the National Institute of Health website. This is what I read:

Weight loss patients usually desire thighplasty. Hating their appearance, they hide under tent-like skirts and baggy pants. Panniculectomy further exposes the unsightliness. Repugnant odors emanate. Some are tormented by red chafed skin under folds. Sagging inner thighs couple with an overhanging abdominal apron and mons pubis rob self-esteem. The patients shun intimacy. (emphasis mine)

The article goes on to indicate that most patients really do want this surgery; doctors just need to convince them to accept the physical scars that will be apparent following the surgery.

Now, this was an article on a new technique for cosmetic surgery to address the issue of excess skin following massive weight loss. And maybe, given the fact that this is an article about cosmetic surgery, I ought to have expected the fat-shaming language used by the doctor who pioneered this particular technique.

But I didn't.

I read that paragraph in the medical literature and the conclusion I drew was not that I had made a choice to become healthier and this is commendable. The conclusion I drew was not that my physical appearance is the least important part of who I am. The conclusion I drew was not that I am valuable and worthy and loved and lovely no matter what.

What I read in that paragraph is that I am unsightly. What I read in that paragraph is that I am repugnant. What I read in that paragraph is that I am unworthy of self-esteem. What I read in that paragraph is that I should shun intimacy, because I used to be a gross, fat, disgusting human being and while I've lost a significant portion of my excess weight, my body still bears those marks and that is what speaks to my complete lack of value.

And of course, I have learned through years of body-shaming and verbal abuse that I should not expect empathy or compassion, because I brought this on myself by living most of my life 200 lbs overweight. It's my fault that my body looks like this, it is my fault that I do not have any value in this society, it is my fault that I will never be worthy of love or acceptance because I'm the one who made the choices that led me to this moment in the first place.

I wonder how differently this paragraph in the article would read if phrased as such:

Many patients report hating their appearance and using voluminous skirts and baggy pants to hide. Many patients also indicate that panniculectomy accentuates their thighs. Many patients also express concerns about odor from moisture and bacteria trapped between skin folds. Many patients indicate they feel robbed of self-esteem and they shun intimacy as a result. Thighplasty may be one method by which dignity and esteem can be restored to these patients, helping to foster body-confidence that may restore their ability to engage in intimacy again.

I called my best friend and told her that I want to excise large portions of my body and I'd like to start with my genitals.

To answer the question, "No. There will be no man in my future ever, because my genitals are ugly, disgusting, and no man would ever want to be intimate with me once they saw my lady-bits anyway."

I wish she had been in a place to have a conversation about the bigger issues, this incredible woman who loves me unconditionally and who truly believes I am beautiful no matter my size.

I am very fortunate, indeed, that I have several friends who will speak the truth to me.

I have several friends who will say to me, "Your value comes from God alone, not from your outward appearance," and "Hey, I value you a lot as a person no matter what size your body is!"

In a fat-phobic, fat-hating, body-shaming culture, I need to hear these messages far more than I need to hear how pretty I'm becoming. Even if I know what these people are trying to communicate is, "It's obvious that you are prioritizing your health and making self-care a real part of your life. I'm glad for you."

I wish that more people were aware of what their words communicate, and I wish they would make better choices to communicate unconditional love and acceptance rather than shame. Because unconditional love and acceptance are far more powerful at affecting change than shame will ever be.

Giving Thanks to Gain Perspective

Luke 6:20-31

*****

Every year, during the month of November, a large number of people on Facebook and other social media sites participate in "30 Days of Thanksgiving" updating their status each day with one thing for which they are faithful.  Last year I participated.

But I did not stop on November 30th.

Rather, I decided to continue for an entire year. In part, I wanted to see if I could make a commitment and follow through (though knowing myself as I do, this was hardly a significant concern). In part, I wanted to challenge myself to be more thankful in general.

The biggest, factor, however, was that I wanted to know what, if anything, I would learn about myself in the process, if I took just a few moments of every day to be thankful for something.

I did learn a few things: I have much to be grateful for. Most of what I truly appreciate in life is not any of my material possessions but my relationships first and foremost and my life experiences next.

I learned that my act of gratitude inspired others.

I learned that I am loved by many and there are those who will readily, if somewhat surprisingly, come to my defense when I am attacked.

There was one morning, a morning after which I had gotten the best night's sleep I had in months; a night in which I'd slept solidly after almost a week of getting virtually no sleep any night, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep; this particular morning, I stated that I was thankful for good sleep.

Immediately a young woman commented that there were lots of things for which to be thankful and my choice that day was shallow and empty and I needed to "work harder."

This is a woman who has obviously never experienced prolonged insomnia. This is a young woman who clearly does not understand what is necessary for a truly good night's sleep: safety, security, comfort, peace. This is a woman who, it seems, does not understand that adequate, healthy, restorative sleep is absolutely NECESSARY for mental, emotional, and physical health.

When I express gratitude for good sleep, it is an expression of gratitude for all of the factors that made it possible: sufficient nutrition, a comfortable bed, warm blankets, a home in which my physical safety is not at risk, relationships in which my sense of security is not in jeopardy.

It is also an expression of gratitude for all of the benefits that come with good sleep: clarity of thought, emotional stability, sufficient energy to perform acts of daily living, and with that, the resilience to make wise and healthy choices in the face of temptation.

And when this woman belittled my expression of thanks, dozens of people came to my defense.

Some may be wondering what this story has to do with our gospel lesson this morning.

I am not, by an means, a wealthy woman. I am, however, incredibly rich in relationships. I am incredibly blessed by God.

I am incredibly blessed and rich in things that matter.  I have sufficient food and have not known hunger or the desperation of severe poverty in years.

This reality, and my ability and willingness to recognize it, leads me to worry a bit, as we read our gospel lesson.

Blessed are the poor.  I live in one of the wealthiest countries in the world. I am among the top 2% of the world's population in regards to wealth, even if I'm in the lower 60% in the US.

Blessed are those who hunger.  I have have a fridge full of spinach at home. More than that, I have the luxury of skipping a meal here or there if I get too busy to eat or simply do not find anything that is immediately available all that appealing.

Blessed are those who mourn. I have certainly mourned in my life, but I am so richly blessed, it is hard to find much to mourn at present.

Blessed are those who are hated, excluded, insulted, and rejected because of Jesus. I have the privilege to stand before you today, in a position of authority and respect, because I am a pastor who loves to talk about Christ.

Woe to the rich, for they have received their comfort. Yep, I'm pretty comfortable in life.

Woe to the well fed, for they will go hungry. Yep, it's pretty clear just looking at me that I'm a little too well fed.

Woe to those who laugh, for they will mourn. If it's one thing I'm known for among most of my social circles, it's my laugh. Even having lost over 100 lbs in the last year, having become virtually unrecognizable to people who have known me for years, the moment I open my mouth and giggle, I am known.

Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you.... I think I'm safe here ;) No one can please all people all the time.

Questions are abundant for us in this scripture! Where do I fall? Is this a scripture to comfort or to warn me? How poor do I have to be to be blessed? How rich is rich enough to worry?

Must I always know hunger to be blessed? Or is having grown up in poverty with occasional bare cupboards sufficient?

How deeply must I mourn? How long must I weep? What must I lose and mourn that I might gain a blessing? Is the loss worth it?

Even if there are those who hate me, who exclude me, who insult me, who reject me, does God really expect me to JUMP FOR JOY!? Seriously!? Abused, reviled, bullied, excluded, taunted, tormented by others and I am told to do a happy dance?

And will God truly deny people comfort, food, joy, and respect in eternal life simply because they received such treatment here, on earth, in this life?

If it is a blessing in God's kingdom to be poor, hungry, to mourn, and be persecuted in this life because such people will be rich, satisfied, will laugh, and be rewarded in eternity; does it necessarily follow that it is a curse to be be rich, well fed, happy, and respected in this life, because God would deny these things in eternal life?

I do not believe so.

The Kingdom of God is not about denying anyone. The Kingdom of God does not operate on an economy of scarcity. Scarcity is the language of this world. Scarcity is a mark of the temporal.  I believe the language used in this passage is a reminder that the blessings of this life are short-lived. They will pass away just as our bodies will pass away. Just as the kingdoms of this world will pass away.

The Kingdom of God, though, is something else entirely. The Kingdom of God is eternal, everlasting. The blessings of God are greater and more significant than the pocket change of the millionaires. The Kingdom of God operates on an economy of abundance.

There is more than enough for everyone.

I think the problem in this passage is our perspective. Much like the young woman who felt my gratitude for a good night's sleep was shallow and insufficient, it is not that those who are rich, well fed, joyful, and respected now will not have access to abundance, good food, joy, or respect in eternal life. Rather, it is that they will not have the perspective to understand these blessings.

Having great wealth and blessings in this life can desensitize us to our blessings. Living in relative comfort, we can forget what it to want for basic necessities and end up yearning for more. There is more than enough, and we often become consumers en masse who want "just a little bit more."

It is not that the wealthy, well fed, happy, respected few on this earth will not have access to the abundance of God in the afterlife. But how much will it mean to them if they've known such comforts all their life?

A radical shift in perspective needs to take place.

Jesus tells us how, and sets the example himself as he lives out the values he proclaims: love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who mistreat you.

Jesus calls us to put others before ourselves, to respond to hate with radical love; and he shows us how, loving his enemies and calling them friends, doing good to those who hated him, blessing those who cursed him, praying for those who mistreated him, reconciling the whole of creation to its creator as he chose obedience to death.

Everything about God's kingdom is the opposite from our understanding of how things work on earth.

Do to others, not what you feel they deserve, but what you would have them do to you.

In the kingdoms of this world, operating under an economy of scarcity, power leads to abuse. Studies have been done that demonstrate that the biggest predictor of immoral behavior is power. Being granted power encourages people to behave less like Jesus.

One does not need to look far to see this: presidents and CEOs of major corporations growing richer and richer and richer, amassing more wealth than they could possibly spend in 10 lifetimes, accumulating this wealth through the exploitation, abuse, and coercion of their employees.

Everything about God's kingdom is opposite from our understanding of how things work on earth.

Exploitation, coercion, and abuse have no place in the Kingdom of God. Respect, love, dignity, kindness, compassion, generosity. These are Kingdom values.

Perspective. Perspective changes our choices.

Putting others before ourselves, responding to hatred with radical love, turning the other cheek, giving beyond what is demanded, giving to all who ask, not demanding repayment. Doing these things will not only bless us in this life; these acts are a blessing in themselves, and unlike material possessions, they are blessings that will never pass away.

Eternal life with eternal blessings. Perspective. Being grateful in plenty and in want. In this way we are preparing ourselves to know and understanding the blessings to come.

Thanksgiving, even for the small, simple, and relatively insignificant things in life is still thanksgiving. Thanksgiving gives us perspective. Thanksgiving reminds us that we have much for which to be thankful. Thanksgiving sets our minds to an economy of abundance.

May you recognize the abundance of God's blessings present this day and always.

Another Sermon

Luke 18:9-14

*****

In today's gospel lesson, we are told a parable about two men: a Pharisee and a tax collector.

We are told that Jesus relates this story for those who are confident of their own righteousness and who looked down on everyone else.  We all know those people -- the ones who believe their moral perfection makes them better than anyone else.

The people in our lives who look around and compare themselves to their neighbors, finding fault in anyone but themselves and absolutely certain that they are at least one step ahead of those in their company.

The people who seem to communicate a message that goes like this: sure I make mistakes on occasion, but they're small and relatively insignificant compared to the mistakes that people like them make; at least I'm not so depraved as those people.

And so here we have two men, a Pharisee and a tax collector.

Pharisees were well respected in their day. They were the religious leaders and teachers of the Law. The Pharisees were the elite in Jewish society, primarily concerned with purity, tithing, and keeping the law. They were often wealthy, complacent and satisfied with systems of injustice that kept them in power at the expense of others.

The Pharisees' focus on outward purity and justification speaks to a hypocrisy as they miss the importance of humility, confronting systems of injustice, sharing their food with the hungry, offering shelter to the poor, clothing the naked, and they use tithing as an excuse to ignore the needs of others.

In this parable, the Pharisee seeks to prove his humility by proclaiming that he fasts twice a week -- an activity that is seen to honor God and the intent of which is humility; and he gives a tenth of all he earns.

The purpose of the tithe as established in Deuteronomy 26:12 is to provide for the needs of the priests, the strangers, the orphans, and the poor -- with the exception of the temple priests, these were people the Pharisees staunchly ignored as being beneath them and unworthy of note or care.

The tax collector, on the other hand, is a member of a lower social caste, considered "unclean" by the purity loving Pharisees.

Roman taxation was a system rife with economic abuses. Fraud was common in assessing the value of property and goods. This inflation of value led to higher commissions. The tax collectors were getting rich via the unjust taxation of the poor.

What is more, those who collected taxes for Rome in Jerusalem were themselves Jewish individuals. They were seen as being in collusion with Rome, an empire that is oppressing the Jews.

Tax collectors were often grouped with robbers and sinners. They are despised and looked down upon.

Yet, in our parable, it is the tax collector whom Jesus holds up as having been justified before God.

The tax collector is proved just and right. He is validated by Jesus. He is the one who will be exalted.

Why?

Because whereas the Pharisee sought to justify himself through his good and humble deeds, which he shared freely in self-righteous comparison to the others, the tax collector demonstrated true humility.

The tax collector stood a distance, demonstrating his reverence for God and acknowledging his unworthiness in the presence of a just and holy God.

The tax collector bowed his head, a posture which declares: I am too ashamed and disgraced, my God, to lift up my face to you because my sins are higher than my head and my guilt has reached the heavens.

The tax collector beat his breast, in shame and humiliation, demonstrating contrition for his sinful acts.

Freely he begs, "God, have mercy on me," as he declares himself "a sinner!"

God declares it these on whom He will look with favor:  those who have a humble and contrite heart, who tremble at God's word.

Though the Pharisees are the teachers of the Law, those who have studied the scriptures, it is the tax collector who seems to truly understand what they mean:

Have mercy on me, O God,

     according to your unfailing love;

according to your great compassion

     blot out my transgressions.

  Wash away all my iniquity

     and cleanse me from my sin.

In his earnest attempt to justify himself and prove his righteousness, the Pharisee has committed a sin, he has missed the mark. He loses sight of the truth: it is God alone who justifies us.

The tax collector gets this. The tax collector understands.

Despised though he is, considered unclean, reviled by his own community, the tax collector is in the more favored position. He is the one on whom God has mercy. He is the one whom God shows favor. He is the one declared righteous and justified.

It is easy to read this story and point fingers at the Pharisee, to look around our own lives and declare, "Oh, I know who those people are, the ones who think they're better than everyone else!"

Perhaps we think we are not like them. But how often do we approach God in a spirit of contrition, genuinely mourning our sins? How often do we bow our heads, beat our breasts and declare, "God have mercy on me, a sinner?"

Are we not more often guilty of pointing out the sins of others, seeking to justify our own misdeeds as "not that bad"; seeking to justify our own lives because "at least we haven't made choices like those people," whomever they may be?

I know that far too often, I act more like a Pharisee than a tax collector. Far too often, I want to justify myself. It is a hard truth to accept that what justifies us in the eyes of God is not our righteousness or piety, but rather our humility, our repentance, and our willingness to acknowledge our failures and own our brokenness.

Today, I want to repent of this. Today, I want to seek God's justification instead of my own. Today, I want God's justification only.

Today, I commit myself to living in a way that seeks the honor and favor of God, rather than the honor and favor of humans.

If you find yourself, even on occasion, declaring your own righteousness like the Pharisee, I hope you'll join me and find restoration and new life in God who exalts the humble and declares that His people will never be put to shame.

Deborah Kaye's Cookie Fiasco

After work today, I had to run a couple of errands.

I stopped by the bank. I paid the rent. I got cash for the weekend.

Afterward, I headed to the store and as I had a $10 gift card from work (oh, big winner that I am), decided to purchase things I might not normally spend my own money on.

This amounted to a LOT of standing around the store feeling confused because 1) there is nothing in general merchandise that can be purchased for $10 or less that I would ever have use of and 2) I have issues grocery shopping, since I eat a pretty boring diet.

However, I decided to take this opportunity to purchase something new. I tried. I really did.

I ended up with peanuts, which I eat on road trips and I have a road trip coming up, so yay!

I also purchased cheese, which I eat more often than I ought to, but it was a new brand, Australian, grass fed. Worth a taste.

I purchased a head of cabbage. Which I ate for dinner. 2/3 of it anyway. To the tune of 200 calories. I also ate a bag of spinach for dinner, to the tune of 60 calories.

The last item, which was actually the first item in the cart was a cookie. I do not normally eat cookies, so this qualified as something I would not normally buy with my own money.

It was gluten free. Oatmeal raisin. It contained very few ingredients, a moderate amount of protein and sufficient fat. I was not thrilled with the sugar content, but I thought, "Maybe just this once."

I looked at the back of the single cookie envelope and discovered there were only 160 calories. I was willing to take the plunge.

On the ride home, I tore open the single envelope containing one cookie. I broke off a small piece and began to eat it, small bites, nibbling on the pieces one at a time as I broke them from the larger cookie. It was a bit like eating granola. Or eating a granola bar, as it was quite soft.

It was a tasty cookie, to be sure. I enjoyed eating it. At first.

I started looking at the cookie and calculating in my head how many servings of oats must be in this cookie. It had to be close 1/2 cup of oats per cookie. Well that just didn't make sense. The cookie also contained Sucanat (a brand of raw sugar), canola oil, raisins, coconut, eggs.... But 1/2 cup of oats has 150 calories. How can they squeeze oil, raisins, coconut and eggs into this cookie for an additional 10 calories?

Something did not add up. So, I took a closer look at the package.

Serving size: 1/2 cookie
Servings Per Container: 2

At which point, I finished eating the cookie, feeling more and more disgusted with the company, their packaging, and myself for eating TWO servings of cookie.

320 calories.

Shit.

I tried to console myself with the fact that my yogurt this morning had been 140 calories and due to unforeseen circumstances, I missed eating at lunch.

Still, I had anticipated 160 calories. I had planned to have a snack that put me at 300 calories total. Suddenly I was up to 460. That's not fair!

Besides, who eats a HALF A FUCKING COOKIE from a single cookie envelope that is not resealable!?

So, I decided that when I got home tonight, I would be far more diligent and eat a supremely healthy dinner.

A package of spinach. A head of cabbage.  Roughage bliss.

It was a tasty cookie. But I won't be doing it again.

Because, really, who eats a half a fucking cookie? NOBODY, I tell you. Nobody.

Work as Prayer

Luke 18:1-8

*****

There is a traditional way of our reading our Gospel lesson this morning. This is the reading that you would likely get at most any church in most any city in most any state. It is a good reading. It is even perhaps an accurate reading. And it's the traditional reading, which means it has some power and must connect with people. 

The traditional reading goes something like this: when Jesus tells this parable, we as listeners are to identify with the widow. The widow's incessant approaching of the judge is the way we must approach God. We must keep seeking God, day after day after day. While God may deny for a time, eventually, God will grant us justice. If we cry out to God night and day, God will answer us so that we do not wear God out. So, pray always and do not lose heart, for if the incessant cry for justice can wear down an unjust judge, surely your prayers will wear down God and you'll get what you seek. 

There are a few problems with this traditional reading of this story.

To start, there is a tendency to read this parable and in comparing God to the judge, assume that God is stingy and not eager to grant us justice. And yet, Jesus tells us, God will grant us justice much more quickly than the judge; God will not delay in helping those who cry out for justice.

Secondly, to identify with the widow, we place ourselves in a position of feeling as though we might be able to "wear out" God with our continual pleading. 

Lastly, the traditional reading of this text completely ignores the whole history of Jewish law, and so, I'd like to offer an alternate reading of the text this morning. 

Jewish law stands on the side of the oppressed. Jewish law stands on the side of the downtrodden. Jewish law stands on the side of the widow, the orphan, the poor. Jewish law stands for justice for those who have no power.

Grant me justice. 

Jewish law is God's law. A law which God declares will be put into God's people, written into their hearts. When that law is written into our hearts, we are God's people and God is our God. The law of God which dictates justice for the widow, the orphan, and the poor is our law. 

If God's law is to seek justice, then in this story, it is the widow who most closely reflects the attitude, behaviors, and very nature of God. 

In a world in which self-interest trumps all, we (more often than not) resemble the judge who does not fear God, who does not respect people. Too often we place our own desires before and above the needs of others. Too often we seek our own comforts at the expense of others' survival. Too often we seek to do what is easiest rather than what is right. 

Too often, we are like the judge: with no fear of God, no respect for our fellows, and no desire to see justice enacted. 

It is God, in our lives, who petitions us to do justice. It is God who will wear us out with the cry for justice. It is God who will come to us day after day after day after day insisting that the law of justice be lived out.

In a society that is unjust, that cares not for the widows, the orphans, and the poor, it is God who cries out day after day for justice. 

It is easy to read the gospel lesson for today and identify with the most favorably presented character -- the widow. We all want to see ourselves as good people. It is natural to want to read this story and assume that we are told to pray continually and not lose heart as the widow continually petitioned the judge for justice.  

Helen Prejean who has spent the last 20 years working with death row inmates has this to say: 

I watch what I do to see what I really believe. 

Belief and faith are not just words. It's one thing for me to say I am a Christian, but I have to embody what it means; I have to live it.... 

"Love your neighbor as yourself," Jesus said, and as a beginner nun, I tried earnestly to love my neighbor -- the children I taught, their parents, my fellow teachers, my fellow nuns. But for a long time, the circle of my loving care was small and, for the most part, included only white, middle-class people like me. But one day I woke up to Jesus's deeper challenge to love the outcast, the criminal, the underdog. So I packed my stuff and moved into a noisy, violent housing project in an African-American neighborhood in New Orleans. 

I saw the suffering and let myself feel it: the sounds of gunshots in the night, mothers calling out for their children. I saw injustice and was compelled to do something about it. I changed from being a nun who only prayed for the suffering world to a nun with my sleeves rolled up, living my prayer. 

Helen Prejean gets it. She heard the word of God. The law of God is written on her heart. And the voice of God wore Helen out, until she could no longer sit idly by in the face of injustice, merely petitioning God to do something. Helen, instead, took her place alongside God in seeking justice. 

All of scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness. All of scripture equips those who belong to God for every good work. And this is the good work of God: to seek justice. 

We are called to do the ministry of God, to seek justice for the widow, the orphan, and the poor. We are called to be persistent as we rebuke injustice and encourage God's justice. We are called to stand on the side of God who calls out for justice, who wears out those who do not fear God or respect people. 

When we work for justice, we stand on the side of God. 

We need to pray always and not lose heart. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time, we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Let our work be our prayer. And let our prayer be the prayer of God -- seeking justice in an unjust world. 

When we work for justice, our work becomes our prayer. In turn, we have the privilege of becoming God's answer to prayer in an unjust and hurting world. 

Obedience to a Loving God

Lamentations 1:1-6, 3:19-26; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10

*****

Today's gospel lesson reads with difficulty. Jesus does not come across as the kind and gentle savior we have come to expect.

Some of this is because Jesus is not the soft and gentle savior we have domesticated through years of watered down theology, the primary focus of which is making people feel good about themselves.

Some of this is because we are two thousands years divorced from the context in which Jesus made his remarks and our own country's history of slavery further colors our understanding of what slavery is. In Jesus day, however, slaves were not individuals abducted from their country, transported across countries and oceans in the most horrific and unsanitary conditions imaginable, to be auctioned off and ultimately "owned" by wealthy, white, land owners in need of cheap, plentiful, and initially disposable labor.

As it regards first century Judaism, slaves were individuals who had voluntarily entered into a mutually beneficial relationship with their employer. This was a legally binding contract in which the slave offered to perform services for the employer who in turn would offer shelter, care, and protection to the employee and after the set term of employment ceased -- a total of seven years, the slave would generally become a member of the employer's household and be treated with the same regard as other family members. This kind of relationship was often the springboard for upward mobility within this cultural context.

The slave, however, had specific obligations during the time of service, however. They were to perform their labor as specified in the terms of their contract. Entering a contractually binding agreement and upholding your end of the contract does not entitle you to special treatment.

This is what is at the crux of Jesus's question, "Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded?" The answer is, "Of course not! They have done their job. Period. End of story."

Faith, genuine faith, even faith as small as a grain of mustard, is a contract into which we voluntarily enter. We choose to believe in God and God becomes our master. This faith makes us slaves to God, and we are expected to be obedient as our faith is a choice to serve to God.

We are called by God who offers to become our employer, caring for our needs and treating us a member of God's own household, and in return, should we choose faithfully to accept God as our master, we serve. This call to serve God is a holy calling. We are called according to God's purpose and God's grace. We are not called because of our goodness or righteousness or suitability. We are called for one reason and one reason only: it pleases God to do so.

This is good news!  For it pleases God to call us and to partner with us simply because God loves us. God does not love us because we have demonstrated that we are in some fashion good enough to have earned God's love.

God calls us because God loves us. We cannot earn God's love or merit by being obedient. Neither does God's love for us lessen should we be disobedient. When we respond in faith to God's call in our lives then, we choose to be obedient to God, not to earn favor with God, but rather because that is what we are commanded to do when we enter in such a relationship.

Sincere faith is a relationship with God, who graciously gifts us with a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline. This means we can do all things God calls us to do without fear of failure, without concern for the outcome, with worry about the end result. So long as we are faithful to God's call, we can stand confident that God's purposes will ultimately prevail, whether we see it in our lifetime or not.

Faith, itself, is an inheritance we pass on. We see that in our epistle -- Timothy received his faith via his mother Eunice and his grandmother Lois. The same is true of us. Even today faith passes through us to those whom we entrust to God whether we ever see the fruit of our labors or not.

God is faithful and we can have full confidence that what we entrust to God will be guarded until the final days.

Even in Jeremiah's day, almost 600 years before Jesus, we see the prophet's trust in God's faithfulness. Jeremiah mourned greatly for Israel, for God's people. Seeing their faithlessness, Jeremiah prayed for them and strongly warned them that they would reap the fruit of their faithless labors.

God, however, is bigger than our mistakes or failures or disobedience. God's steadfast love never fails; God's mercies never come to an end. God, who is faithful, showers us each morning with new mercies and enduring love.

The love and faithfulness of God is most clearly demonstrated in our salvation.

Salvation comes through a God who loves us no matter what; salvation that is life and immortality.

Our choice to be obedient to God may never win us accolades or reward in this life. In many ways, it may invite the scorn of others.

We can hold to a promise, however, that at the end of our days, having fulfilled our duties as slaves of Christ, that we will be welcomed into God's household as a member of Christ's family. Our reward comes at the end of days in the resurrection and in eternal life.

A clear example of this can be found in Saint Francis of Assisi who, in the influence he had on others, continues to live on even today. Francis, who endeavored to respond obediently to the call of God in his life, following the example set forth by Christ.

We, too, will live on in the influence we have in the lives of others. Let us seek to be obedient to the call of God in our lives, let us seek to follow the example set forth by Christ, let us seek to influence others in love.

Though not written by Saint Francis, the Prayer of Saint Francis sums up this idea beautifully:

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is error, the truth;

Where there is doubt, the faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled, as to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Getting Real About Stuff

I know I have a few readers who manage to find my posts even when I do not share them via facebook. I fervently hope my family is not amongst them.

If we share DNA, STOP READING RIGHT NOW!!!!! Please.

*****

I struggle with disordered eating patterns. I do not have an eating disorder.

I eat healthy foods. I do not eat in a healthy way.

I use food to manage my emotions. I have to work really hard to use food to fuel my body.

People often ask me for my secret. "What are you doing? How have you lost so much?"

I tell them the truth: I eat a lot of vegetables, lean proteins, and legumes. With very rare exceptions, I do not eat processed food. If I cannot tell by looking at it what it was in nature, I'm not likely to put it in my mouth. I do not eat refined sugar.

I do not tell them that both my primary care physician and my therapist are concerned about how I talk about food.

People assume this is difficult or requires some enormous degree of discipline or will power.

I do not them the truth: it is simple. Quite easy, in fact.

I made a choice to change my eating habits. Having made that choice, all other options ceased to exist for me.

Because I have an incredibly high need for rules. I am rigidly structured. I have a high need for control.

That so much of my life in the last year has felt out of control (multiple deaths and multiple other traumas), it is not surprising to either myself or my therapist, that I have become rigidly structured and highly controlled in how I eat; in what I eat.

I started it as a way to manage my anxiety.

And it works.

Until it doesn't.

Because losing weight and the focus it has put on my body creates a whole new kind of anxiety.

As I discussed these disordered eating habits and the distorted thought processes that contribute to it, with my therapist yesterday, I made a startling discovery.

It really is possible to choke on your words.

Literally.

I also discovered the source of so much of my anxiety, so much of my need for control, so much of my desire for a rigidly structured life, so much of my inability to function in chaos and uncertainty.

I choked on the word "acceptable." It took me three tries to get the word out. I finally managed it, but barely.

We were talking about my food and body issues and my need for control and my distorted thought patterns and how to change those thought patterns.

"Is there any other way to do it? I mean, is there a trick to it? A shortcut? Or do I really just have to constantly re-affirm that my body is good and healthy? More than good, that it's okay. Do I really just need to retrain my brain, rewrite those tapes through repetition, that my body is acce...."

I took a breath. I cleared my throat. "Acce...."

I took a deep breath and blew it out. I cleared my throat again. "Ac...cept...able," I nearly whispered, as tears streamed down my face. "I know exactly what triggered it," I told my therapist.

I know the trigger that started me down this path, back in April. The words that remained unspoken that left me fighting waves of nausea on a daily basis, restricting calories, and increasing my physical activity in an effort to feel in control so that I would not feel like I will never be good enough, that I will never be valuable, that I will never be lovable, that I will never be worthy, that I am not acceptable for so many reasons. I had already lost 30 lbs in the previous 6 months by cutting sugar out of my life. I've since lost an additional 70 lbs.

New mental tape. New thoughts. Rewrite the script.

That's the hard work.

That's the part that takes effort.

Not eating sugar is ridiculously easy by comparison.

I am good enough.

I am valuable.

I am lovable.

I am loved.

I am worthy.

I am acce....

Still more work to be done.

How Humans are Like Lichens

It occurs to me that it is not at all inappropriate to liken humans to lichen.

(See what I did there?)

Lichens are composite organisms living in a symbiotic relationship. Fungus and either bacteria or algae.

Like so much in life, the whole is different than the sum of its parts.

It occurred to me that humans are like this. We are made up of two parts: a body and a mind.

The body is made of muscle, bone, tendons, ligaments, vital organs, and brain.

The mind is the part of you that carries the youness that make you you.

The body needs the mind for animation, like the captain of a ship.

The mind needs a body to live out its purpose.

Much as lichens are different than the composite of their parts, and much as different parts will get you different varieties of lichens, so too a person would be vastly different than they are if their mind resided in a different body. For the body is the vehicle through which the mind engages the world. Just as the mind drives the body, so our bodily experience of the world shapes our minds.

For the longest time, I believed that I was not my body. I separated my me-ness completely from my body. As I lost weight and regained weight, there was never a sense that I was different. Just that my vehicle had changed.

Yet during that time, I came to appreciate my body and how it existed in the world. I came to experience my me-ness within the particular body I have. I began to identify myself as not just a mind which happened to reside in this body; rather I began to think of myself as a whole person who was body and mind and different than the sum of those parts.

Losing weight again has left me feeling confused at times, as I feel like my body is a stranger, as though it does not belong to me, and I do not know myself because I do not know this body.

I cannot separate the two, however. So, I look to the whole and I acknowledge the ways my new body engages the world and all of the wonderful things I can experience differently now because I experience them in a different body.

And perhaps I will become more adaptable as a person because I must adapt to my new and different body. Maybe this will be a wonderful growth opportunity.

Or maybe not. Who knows.

Maybe I just like being likened to lichen.

An Open Letter to Leering Creepers

Dear Creeper:

Let me begin by saying that your actions this evening were not appreciated.

I love running. I try to do a bit of running each day. Most days I get a 1/2 mile in before work. On particularly good days when my knees aren't hurting and my shins aren't beginning to ache in a way that makes me wonder how I'll manage to get up the stairs at the end of my run, and when it's hot enough that I'm finally feeling warm just being in the sunshine but not so humid I feel like I'm swimming through the air, I can get in another 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 miles after work.

And that's what I was doing this evening.

In my running shorts (which I finally realize are NOT a fashion statement but serious exercise equipment) and my two-sizes-too-big cami and my beloved Brooks.

And this is where I was this evening, a half mile into my run, when you showed up.

I love running. For me, running is a meditative act. It is a time when I am fully present in the moment. All that matters is this moment, this breath, this step.

I love running. When I am running, I feel strong, confident, and powerful. I love those feelings even if I cannot yet carry them over into other areas of my life.

There are very few things that can pull me out of this meditative state. One is most certainly traffic, because body shame runs deep and is taught to women beginning in their girlhood and it is something we will likely battle for the remainder of our lives. I understand we have begun teaching this body shame to men and boys in recent years, and this makes me sad.

But, there you have it. A car on the roadway will usually snap me into a state of self-conscious awareness of what I might look like to the individual driving past and what might they be thinking and what business does a fat girl have running anyway, slightly thinner or not?

Because I am self-aware, because I know that this is where my mind tends to go; because I know that this is my struggle, I can acknowledge that vehicle on the roadway, I can acknowledge the feelings it evokes, and I can re-center myself on this moment, this foot fall, this breath before our paths actually cross.

Not so this evening.

Whereas most cars will continue on their way at 55 or 60 mph, crossing the center line to give me a wider berth, you slowed down to about 30 mph. And then, you turned your head and leered at me as you passed by.

Not cool.

Let me tell you a few things about myself so that you can know me more as a human being rather than merely as an object of your leering gaze.

Although I was mistaken for a high school student as little as a month ago, I'm 32 years old. (That many people remark upon my youthful appearance and believe that I must be younger than I am, if you're among those who cannot tell my true age, your leering makes you an even bigger creeper).

Because I am in my 30s, let me assure you, I am not working off a little extra baby fat. I've lost 98 lbs since I started making lifestyle changes 11 months ago. This weight loss has carried a heavy burden.

Beneath my short running shorts and two-sizes-too-big cami, I carry loose, saggy, and rather wrinkled extra skin that bears the marks of having recently been stretched over a great deal more body. Rather than my skin holding my body together, it seems that my body is holding onto my skin.

Furthermore, beneath that loose, saggy, wrinkled skin, I'm carrying another 88 lbs of wobbly, gelatinous, excess fat. And as I run, it wobbles and jiggles like Jell-o; the saggy fat filled pockets of skin across my abdomen swaying from side to side like a flesh-toned, silent metronome. You could pull out an instrument and time music to its swy. I'd recommend a funeral dirge, considering my incredibly slow pace.

Additionally, I am fully confident that were I one of those women who felt comfortable running in nothing but tiny shorts and a sports bra, rather than slowing down and leering, you would have instead averted your eyes, sped up, and fervently prayed, "Dear God Almighty, please burn that image from my retinas."

As it happens, your slowing down and leering not only pulled me out of my meditative state and evoked feelings of self-consciousness and body shame, it also left me feeling vulnerable, at best, weak and terrified, at worst. Which, given the culture in which we live, I imagine was, if not your intent, certainly an effect of which you cannot be unaware.

Having this effect on women does not make you strong, powerful, masculine, macho, or important. Engaging in these behaviors with the intent to frighten women makes you a bully; someone who is dangerous and threatening.

In the event that you are simply willfully ignorant of how your behaviors dehumanize and objectify women (and which, as a result, can be quite frightening to the women at whom you leer), you're just a garden variety douche-bag.

So, please, the next time you see me running along the side of the road, do not slow down, do not leer, do not watch me in your rear view mirror. Keep your eyes on the road! It's safer that way for you as a driver anyhow.

Do that and rather than being disgusted by and frightened of you, I might instead respect you and appreciate the respect you've shown me.

Sincerely,
A Slightly Thinner Fat Girl, running

The Conditions Are Right

The conditions were right.

That's why you died.

It was not because I messed up or made a mistake or failed.

It was not because God was punishing me.

It was not because God does not love me, or because you did not love me, or because I deserved to lose you, or you deserved to be lost.

The conditions were right.

You spent the whole of your adult life battling an eating disorder. I do not know the specifics. I never asked. Maybe you were bulimic at some point and used food to numb yourself and worked out to keep the weight off.

Maybe you were just a compulsive over-eater and you never compensated and you just used food to numb yourself until you were 550 pounds.

I only know that by the time you came into my life, you had been in therapy and you were making healthier choices and you had lost a couple of hundred pounds. You were still obese. You were still working to reach a healthy weight.

But that didn't matter.

The conditions were right.

You were fifty and that means you'd had at least 32 years of adulthood in which you'd abused your body and who knows what your youth looked like.

So, your heart was not healthy. And in one moment, it stopped. And there was nothing that could be done to start it again.

The conditions were right. It did not matter that you were white, male, upper middle class; that you were a block from the ER when it happened and you received medical attention within seconds of the event.

The conditions were right.

The conditions were right.

Your heart stopped. Your body shut down. With no blood and no oxygen, your brain died. You died.

You died because the conditions were right.

It had nothing to do with me, though it affected me terribly, because I am not the center of the universe, neither cause nor effect, and I do not have the power to control such mundane things as when people die, and because much as I would like to believe that I am so all-important God would, in fact, be interested in punishing my sins so severely as to take you from this earth because I made a mistake, I know this simply is not true. I am not so powerful. I am not so all-important. I am not so proud as to believe that I am the cause (in any way at all) of your death.

The conditions were right.

And that is hard to believe and to accept because it seems so random and meaningless.

It is easier to believe that I can apportion blame in some regard because apportioning blame means I can identify the cause, the contributing factors, the reason for it, and if I can identify those things, then I can prevent the next big catastrophe by being good enough which means perfect, which I can surely never be.

The conditions were right.

I had no control over the conditions that led to your death. I have no control over the conditions that do or do not lead to anything else in this world.

What I control is the choices I make, the behaviors I engage in, the way I engage the world.

I can control what I eat and how much. I control how much I exercise. I control (to the extent that I can) how much sleep I get. I control how much stress and anxiety I have in my life.

I could not control your choices, because if I could have, you'd have eaten granola that night instead of two chocolate bars.

I cannot control the choices anyone else makes either.

The conditions were right.

And you died.

And at some point, the conditions will be right for someone else in my life to die. And it will have nothing to do with me. Just as your death had nothing to do with me.

This is not punishment.

This is not the result of an angry God who does not want me to make mistakes or be anything other than human, which is to say fallible.

When horrible things happen, it is because the conditions are right.

When the good things I want to happen do not, it is because the conditions are not right.

I may never know what conditions are necessary in every circumstance to produce the best outcome (from my own limited perspective). But I can acknowledge that the conditions were right for the outcome produced and the conditions were not right for any other outcome.

And I can look at the role I played in those situations and I can decide whether or not I will make changes in the future, not because doing so means that the outcome in similar future circumstances will be dependent upon my doing things differently or the same; rather because I want to be able to say, "This is an area where I recognize a need for growth and these are the ways I am going to make different choices for myself because I want to grow in these ways" or because I can look back and say, "I am proud of who I am and the choices I made in those specific circumstances and I would do it all again."

The conditions were right.

And while I would surely make different decisions than I did in the days leading up to your death, because I know you died not because I made a mistake but because the conditions were right, I would make those choices based on what I know to be the best choice for myself and my life, and not because the weight of the whole world and the issue of life and death reside on my shoulders.

The conditions were right and it had nothing to do with me.

The conditions were right.

But the conditions were also right for you to be who you were to me for the limited time we had. For that I am grateful. In that, I wouldn't change a thing.

Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens because the conditions are right.

Good, bad, or indifferent. What happens happens because the conditions are right.

So, here we are, six years later. Six years after the right conditions led to a fatal heart attack. Six years after you died.

You did not leave me. You were not taken away from me. You died. You died because the conditions were right.

And because the only conditions I can affect are my own, I choose to believe that I will see you again. I choose to believe that I carry some portion of you with me. My memories and the love I have for you. The relationship has not ended. It just looks different.

I can still love you and honor you. Because those are the conditions that I control. And when it comes to choosing to love others, and especially you, though I may not do it well or perfectly or consistently, the conditions are always right.

Confessions of a Slightly Thinner Fat Girl, Part III

I focus on my body and the changes I feel.

I focus on my body and the changes I can see in the parts.  I still cannot see changes when I look at the whole.

Looking in the mirror, I visually carve my body into bits and pieces -- clavicles, ulnar processes, patellas, scapulae, zygomatic bones, hairline, double chin.

This segmenting of my body is disconcerting.  The idea that I am cutting myself into sections, if only visually, leaves me wondering about possible connections to my history of self-mutilation.

My therapist says I'm focusing on the changes in my body and may be losing sight of what hasn't changed -- who I am.  I know that she is right in this regard:  When I feel fear or panic or discomfort, I'm connecting my identity, my sense of self, to how I understand my body to appear/work rather than to who I know myself to be as a person.

Still, there are questions, concerns, fears, and anxiety about my body.

Who I am has not changed.  Yet, I still want my body to be the best possible body.  Not my best possible body, taking into account where I started and what I've been through.  I want the best possible body of all human bodies.

A friend of mine recently forwarded me a blog post about the recent resurgence of the modesty debate. This debate has not waned with the closing of summer as he had hoped, and so he threw in his two cents.

Now, I love my friend.  I appreciate him.  I have a great deal of respect for him.  He is simply amazing.

And I really appreciate his stance, particularly as a Christian leader, that we as a culture, particularly in the church, need to stop policing women's bodies.

What I had not anticipated in editing his post was feeling inadequate, unlovely, unworthy, worth less and deeply hurting because of the shape of my body, and in particular, the shape of specific parts of my body.

I'm not blaming my friend or his honesty.  In fact, that he would write so bluntly and that he consistently demonstrates himself to be a man of integrity is one of the reasons I count him among my closest friends.

That his truth was hurtful to me did serve as a signpost of work I still need to do.

I do not know if I will ever have the body I want.  I do plan to continue striving to reach a healthy weight and have a body that does all the things I want it to do, with ease.  I hope when I have transformed my current body into my new body, I will want the body I have.

What frustrates and frightens me in this, however, is the focus I find myself putting on making certain aspects of my body more "acceptable" and appealing.  Parts of my body that are not likely to be seen by anyone other than me.

I find myself considering what it might be like not just to cut up, segment, reduce my body to parts and pieces as I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, but rather wondering if it might be possible to cut up, segment, and reduce my body, in parts and pieces, under a surgeon's knife, in an effort to make there be less of me physically, in the hopes that it makes me more.

Divine Dinner Parties

I quite enjoy cooking and baking.  For a variety of reasons.

Mostly, cooking and baking acts of self-care for me.  It makes sense in circumstances that often feel senseless.  It has a scientific certainty to it when so much in life seems to lack any certainty at all.

There are rules to cooking and baking.  Lots of beautiful rules.

I wasn't among you last week.  I was over at Salem talking to them about my love of rules.  And my day job.  Which involves highly logic, perfectly rational, stringently consistent rules.  And I talked to them about how much I love that aspect of my job -- the rules.

It just so happens that there are times in my life when it feels like nothing makes sense, where there are no rules, or no one is following the rules, or the rules constantly change from one moment to the next.  During these times, it is not unusual for me to retire to the kitchen and cook or bake.

As luck would have it, I also happen to know a number of people who like to eat.

It started in seminary.  I would be in the kitchen, making dinner, relaxing at the end of the day.  I would be making something fragrant, adjusting the temperature or cooking time to compensate for changes in weather or humidity.

A neighbor would walk past the kitchen and remark on the delicious aromas wafting through the halls.  "It'll be ready in 1/2 an hour," I'd tell them.  "Why don't you make a salad and join me?"

Not long after, another neighbor would walk by.  "MaryBeth, what is that amazing smell?" they would ask.  "Oh, I"m just throwing together a little of this or that for dinner.  Our neighbor is bringing a salad.  It'll be ready in about 20 minutes.  Why don't you bring a bottle of wine and join us?"

And not long after, another neighbor would walk by.  "That smells absolutely heavenly," they would say.  "Well, it'll be ready in about 10 minutes.  Our neighbors are bringing a salad and some wine.  Why don't you grab your fiancee and join us for dinner?"

These impromptu dinner parties would take place 2-3 times a month.

Now, this kind of thing is much easier to pull off when you live in a dormitory and share a common kitchen and living room with 30 other people.

Currently, I do not have the space or ability to host dinner parties.  This is sad.

It has not, however, stopped me from feeding people.

Whenever I have the time and the resources, I like to head to the kitchen, whip up something fun, and send care packages to friends near and far.

Back in April, I went to Kansas for a week to celebrate my birthday.  I visited a very dear friend of mine, and spent my afternoons in his kitchen, preparing meals for us, and insisting that he invite over any stray friends who might not have alternate plans that night.

Over the course of the week, I made a Chicken and 40 Cloves, bbq ribs, chipotle lime pork roast, roast chicken, homemade pizza, and on the day of my birthday:  Puff pastry cups with blue cheese and truffle honey, Bacon wrapped dates with blue cheese, Baked brie en croute, Risotto with bacon,  blue cheese, and caramelized onions, and a Dark Chocolate Cheesecake with Hazelnut Ganache and Sea Salt for dessert.

We invited a few people and had a wonderful time.

In our scripture today, Jesus is at a dinner party.

Now, when I would throw dinner parties, there was no favoritism shown to anyone.  People came and sat and talked and ate and drank and laughed and we all had a wonderful time.  We all came to the table as equals.  None was more highly valued than any other.

This is not the case in Jesus's day.  Jesus notices people choosing places of honor, seating themselves more closely to the host, the choicest spot at the table.

It would be like everyone in church making a concerted effort to sit in the front pew.  At some point, an usher would simply have to come forward, and ask that the "less prominent" members of the church take a pew farther toward the back of the sanctuary.

This illustration, of course, is completely foreign to one and all here today.  You guys are so humble, not a single one of you wants to assume the place of greatest honor!  And aren't you fortunate that the ushers have not approached you and invited you to "move up to a better place" in church this morning?

Jesus, it seems, is not striving to get the best seat for himself at this dinner party.  Much as he is being watched by those present -- the Pharisees who are the moral authorities of the day -- Jesus is watching those present as well.  When he sees them scrambling to get the best place, he tells them a parable.

Not the traditional story type parable we are used to, but rather, he lays out a basic rule for behaving at dinner parties:  Do not seek the best seat and risk being asked to move down to make room for someone more prominent.  Rather, choose the lowest seat, that you might be invited to move up to a better place.

"Choose humility," Jesus said, "that you will not be humiliated."

This was not a lesson in social etiquette, as one might assume at first blush.  Rather, it is a lesson in how things work in God's kingdom, what it's going to be like at the Divine Dinner Party.  "Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.

This is something Jesus tells us repeatedly:  the first shall be last; the last shall be first.  Those who seek to lift themselves shall be humbled; those who humble themselves shall be esteemed.

One of the ways people today often seek to lift themselves, seek to be esteemed by others, is to surround themselves with those who are their social equals or "better."  Those who have more social capital, in the ever-present struggle to make it.  The notion of "Keeping up with the Joneses," leads many to choose their companions with care: friends, relatives, wealthier neighbors who can advance their position at work, in life, in the neighborhood.

It's not about what you know, they will say.  It's all about who you know.

Tit-for-tat.  You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.  Trading favors so that we both get ahead.

And this is appealing!  It's how the world works.  It's what earns us respect and esteem and perhaps the envy of those around us....

Yet this is not what we, as Christians, are called to.

We are called to give sacrificially of ourselves, with no expectation of a return.  We are called to love, serve, and bless those who cannot repay us.

We are not to invite our friends, relatives, or rich neighbors to our banquets.  If we invite them, they may repay us.  They may seek to balance their account, to repay the debt of our kindness -- and they have the ability to do so.

"Do not do this!" says Jesus.  "When you host a dinner party, invite the poor who cannot repay you in kind.  Invite the crippled who cannot serve you.  Invite the lame, who cannot prepare a meal.  Invite the blind, who in Jesus's time had no ability to provide for themselves let alone anyone else.  Do this, and you will be blessed."

It is better to give than to receive, we are told.  For the greater blessing is in the giving.

This isn't always easy to remember or even believe.  Who among hasn't spent him or herself on behalf of another, perhaps repeatedly, with no reward?

Who among us hasn't sought to love someone others find unlovable, only to be rejected time and again?

What of Paul's charge to show hospitality to strangers?

This is more than showing hospitality to those whom we have not met.  It goes deeper than that.  This speaks to the notion of showing hospitality, gracious regards, radical welcome to those who are different, who are not just strangers but strange to us; different; not just unknown, but seemingly unknowable.

Maundy Thursday this year, Pope Francis showed this kind of hospitality in washing the feet of Muslim woman.

Many of you were here for Maundy Thursday services.  Many of you had your feet washed by Bob, your head anointed by me.  Would we have shown such gracious hospitality to a Muslim had one entered our worship that night?  I'd like to believe so.

Love those who cannot love you; show hospitality to strangers; store up for yourself treasures in heaven.  Invite to your dinner party those who cannot reciprocate.

Do this, and you will be repaid.  Your reward will be waiting.  Certainly, as Jesus said, "You will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."  But you will also be repaid here, now, in this time.  Repaid by a present, active, infinite and loving God who declares, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  The one who leads us out of bondage, who cares for us through times wilderness, through deserts and ravines, through times of spiritual drought and darkness, is met in the stranger, the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind.

If he has done so much for us, let us do as much for him.  Let us seek him in the face of the oppressed.  Let us love him by loving others.  Let us serve him by others.

God has radically welcomed us, we who cannot repay the kindness and generosity of such a powerful and glorious God.  Let us radically welcome the image of God that we find in those who cannot repay us.  In doing so, we will be rewarded.  And what an amazing dinner party that's going to be.