Jubilee and a Hunger for Justice

Yesterday, I preached for a group of Presbyterian women in our region (even though I am not even Presbyterian). I know most of my on-line buddies don't know me in this way, but I'm going to write about it anyway. I really enjoyed this particular opportunity because they wanted me to speak about Jubilee. They are starting a study entitled, Jubilee: Luke's Gospel for the Poor. The concept of Jubilee, though there is no record that it was actually practiced, is from the Old Testament. I appreciated preaching on it because it includes things such as: release of captives, rest (Sabbath) for the land and for the people, forgiveness of debt and land re-distribution. Pretty radical things to think about back then and today.

My opening story came from Beyond Borders (I am so amazed by them), from Cindy Koser, a woman who recently visited there:

I was staying with a family as part of Beyond Borders Transformational Travel program. We’d been told large portions of food were a vital part of Haitian hospitality, so it didn’t seem outrageous when Jeanette, the family’s mother, heaped an enormous portion of millet and bean sauce on a tin plate and handed it to me.

We’d just arrived, and the heat had left me without an appetite. As I accepted the plate I cringed, hoping the leftover food would not offend Jeanette. I ate as much as I could, appreciating every bite. When I reached the point of discomfort, I stopped. I thanked her with a big smile and gestured that I was very full.

Jeanette reached for the plate. What I witnessed next has remained with me since. Jeanette handed my half-eaten plate of food, along with my spoon, to her 4-year-old daughter, Michaela, who eagerly took it with both hands, sat against the wall on the floor, and quickly ate all my leftovers. She’d not yet eaten that day.

When I was finally alone that night, I wept. What was it like for Jeanette to prepare so much food for visitors when her own children were hungry? I wondered why I felt guilty. I ate much less at every other meal, sometimes even offending Jeanette. Yet every piece of rice I left was eaten by her children... straight off of my plate. It made my stomach hurt. I felt profound pains of hunger, but not for food. I felt sharp pain, a deep longing in my gut, for justice.

Our world has truly gone bananas. We are one bunch of crazies - how often in the last week have I wanted new boots, new kitchen cabinets, a new kitchen floor, more food and a new ceiling fan when HELLO! I HAVE too many shoes, my kitchen cabinets just need a little repair, my kitchen floor is fine, I eat more than I need and who cares if my ceiling fan is ugly?

I was glad for this opportunity to reflect on having a Theology of Enough and to reflect on how my life is connected to all of the Michaelas of this world. I believe that the less I try to clutch for myself and the less developed countries try to hoard all of our world resources, the more Jubilee is possible, for both sides of the economic divide.

For a touch of hope, I read this children's book at the end of the sermon. It pictures Jubilee as a giant picnic where EVERYONE is welcome and where everyone has enough.