for I was hungry and you gave me no food,
I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink,
I was a stranger and you did not welcome me,
naked and you did not give me clothing,
sick and in prison and you did not visit me.
I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink,
I was a stranger and you did not welcome me,
naked and you did not give me clothing,
sick and in prison and you did not visit me.
I have been going door to door around neighborhoods encouraging folks to vote in the upcoming presidential election and, when asked, explaining the positions of the Obama Campaign for Change. I was assigned door to door canvassing in one of Battle Creek's affluent neighborhoods. The experience was quite an eye opener. I saw, unfolding before me, the surprising nexus of spirit and politics as clear as glass. I had expected that there might not be much enthusiasm for Barack in this very affluent neighborhood. One, after all, does not get to such affluence paying large tax bills and Barack has been painted as a "tax and spender." There was some of that. But there was a whole lot more gracious and welcoming folks of all sides of the political spectrum, grateful for one who cares enough to nourish the body politic with conversation. It is clear that grace and hospitality are not the property of one political party. A good and generous spirit is available in both.
I came across some other, rather disturbing conversations. A middle aged man railed against the distribution of "MY" wealth to the undeserving. "They ought to be left to starve," he exclaimed full of hyperbole. I was shaken by that encounter, wondering what was missing in his own life. There, poverty of spirit and brutal politics were partners. There were other stops. I came to houses that clearly were just keeping body and soul together. Shabby homes. Paint peeled on the outside. Holes in the porch shouted poverty. Inside was a free market economist. S/he worried about helping the poor while oblivious to the poverty into which s/he had fallen. "Let them make it on their own." I must say, I did not get it.
The climax of the Gospel of Matthew is in a vision of lasting things, concerns of ultimate importance. "Inasmuch as you have done it unto the least of these, you have done it unto me." The Gospel writer puts "concern for other" in the mouth of Jesus! It is the telltale sign of the faithful, or spiritual wholeness. I am left to ponder not that folks have political differences, but that those who seem to suffer most from their politics are those who are on the margin. . . the poor man who embraces the chance at ""hitting it big" or the overworked small businessman stretched to the limit and angry about it.
What comes first, the marginal lifestyle or the pinched and angry ideology? Who knows. In a great irony, it turns out that "the least of these" are those who hold the least of these in contempt, who are afraid to share what they have. Now that is the spiritual nexus of the Gospel. It was all I could do to recall that I was there to distribute political information to these tortured souls. There was a fertile field for Pastoral Care. That will be for another day and another time. For now, I bathe in the mystery of what it is to be human, grateful for its deep contradictions.
Door to door canvassing is a great way to take one's own spiritual pulse. There was that surprising generosity of the bulk of the affluent. There is hope for the "least of these." The sign in my yard this year asks, "Got hope?" Clearly there is a hunger for hope, some gracefully expressed, others in a brutal "cri de coeur."
Political and spiritual health are in such complex interrelationship. It is striking.
I came across some other, rather disturbing conversations. A middle aged man railed against the distribution of "MY" wealth to the undeserving. "They ought to be left to starve," he exclaimed full of hyperbole. I was shaken by that encounter, wondering what was missing in his own life. There, poverty of spirit and brutal politics were partners. There were other stops. I came to houses that clearly were just keeping body and soul together. Shabby homes. Paint peeled on the outside. Holes in the porch shouted poverty. Inside was a free market economist. S/he worried about helping the poor while oblivious to the poverty into which s/he had fallen. "Let them make it on their own." I must say, I did not get it.
The climax of the Gospel of Matthew is in a vision of lasting things, concerns of ultimate importance. "Inasmuch as you have done it unto the least of these, you have done it unto me." The Gospel writer puts "concern for other" in the mouth of Jesus! It is the telltale sign of the faithful, or spiritual wholeness. I am left to ponder not that folks have political differences, but that those who seem to suffer most from their politics are those who are on the margin. . . the poor man who embraces the chance at ""hitting it big" or the overworked small businessman stretched to the limit and angry about it.
What comes first, the marginal lifestyle or the pinched and angry ideology? Who knows. In a great irony, it turns out that "the least of these" are those who hold the least of these in contempt, who are afraid to share what they have. Now that is the spiritual nexus of the Gospel. It was all I could do to recall that I was there to distribute political information to these tortured souls. There was a fertile field for Pastoral Care. That will be for another day and another time. For now, I bathe in the mystery of what it is to be human, grateful for its deep contradictions.
Door to door canvassing is a great way to take one's own spiritual pulse. There was that surprising generosity of the bulk of the affluent. There is hope for the "least of these." The sign in my yard this year asks, "Got hope?" Clearly there is a hunger for hope, some gracefully expressed, others in a brutal "cri de coeur."
Political and spiritual health are in such complex interrelationship. It is striking.
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