Takoma Park Baptist Church, Washington, DC, October 16, 1988 (World Hunger Sunday)
Somehow, when our whole orientation is consuming and enjoying and entertaining ourselves, we pay no attention to anything beyond today. What we have today we use, and assume that tomorrow will take care of itself. And so for years this family had enjoyed prosperity; they had achieved some degree of success in the business world, they had made a tidy profit selling their goods and produce, they had, just because of the sheer size of the family and its holdings, accomplished some stature in their community. No one really was prepared for the thought that this particular family, which seemed so close-knit, which gave the appearance of success, should be pinched.
But they were. They came upon some hard times. When the skies turned blazing hot, when the refreshing waters of the little seasonal streams dried up, and when the price of food began to edge upward, they began to hurt. Too many mouths to feed and too little to do it with. Where was the ample pantry of last year now? Where the fine feasts and the sumptuous pig-outs they had enjoyed? It was not particularly easy to adjust to new circumstances; in some sense the prosperous have a harder time adjusting to poverty than do those who are already poor, they have to adjust their thinking before they can adjust their budgets. Those of us who grin and speak of living in a style to which we would like to become accustomed speak vigorously of not being able to make it on forty thousand, fifty thousand, but it's all a matter of expectations and of desires. Most of us spend up to and beyond our means and if the means shrinks the desires don't. If what I have shrinks, what I want does not shrink at exactly the same time.
And so this family, this powerful, influential family, had not properly prepared for the emergency. Maybe it would not have even felt like an emergency to your average inner city family; maybe to those who habitually water down the soup and stretch the bologna and pick up government cheese it would not have been a crisis. But to folks whose standard of living had been on the comfortable side, now there was a real crunch. Now not only was it likely there would be no more fashionable clothes, no more posh transportation, no more indulgent entertainments … not only was it likely there would be no more extras, but now it seemed that even the very basics were in short supply. Food itself was running low. Mother Hubbard's cupboard was indeed bare and this powerful clan took steps. This family was never without some recourse, and so they moved to do what they had to do to survive, as most of us would when our families' futures are in jeopardy. However much you and I may fear crime and hate drug dealing, however much we may be revolted at the thought of prostitution or of gambling, still we do have to see that when people are up against the wall sometimes the pride goes down the drain, and self-respect takes a back seat to sheer survival. I do not excuse these things, I do not condone muggings and illicit dealings, but I can at least see that if someone thinks he is desperate why he may resort to this tactic.
But this family in question, these sturdy scions of society, these once-prosperous, once-successful pillars of strength, they now did what they had to do. Using the resources that remained and dipping down into their pockets and their credit, off they went to another place to buy food. Knowing that in a distant place there was enough, they hurried off to supply themselves and stave off starvation.
And as it was that late one afternoon after days of traveling and nights of fitful sleep, they came to the city where the food could be had, if you brought the right price. Confident of their resources, well aware that even if their own land had failed to produce food and if their own business had fallen on hard times, that still they could depend on their wits and their negotiating skills, they appeared before the official in charge of selling the food. Those of us, you see, who have grown up in a certain echelon of society are just used to having our own way. We expect that others will sit up and take notice when we walk into the room; we, because we are who we are ... because we are citizens of this country, because we are members of this class or this race, because we are middle class and not hard-core poor, because we are educated and not ignorant, because we live in a good community and not in the slums. Some of us just think of ourselves as in charge of our lives and destinies and we expect others to serve us. Even when we come with our hands out and find ourselves in some kind of need, we good middle-class upstanding citizen types just expect others to do what we want and when we want it.
What a surprise, then, to be confronted with a gruff, condescending question, "Where do you come from?" "Where have you come from ... you are spies … you are just here to find out what we have, aren't you? You're here to see if you can take what we have for yourselves!"
They were astonished. They were not used to being treated with suspicion. There was something vaguely familiar about this man, but now they were on the defensive. They had no time to worry about that, he was making accusations, he was acting as though they had no right to do business. Did he not know who they were? Did he not see men of substance and stature, just temporarily distressed? Where does he come off questioning their sincerity? Who does he think he is? Why, we are entitled to food. We are supposed to have this food. It doesn’t matter to us whether anybody else gets it or what he has to do to bring it out here, but we are somebodies, we are the right kind of folks, we have worked hard, we have a certain standard of living to maintain. Now, man, you just jump to it and get us what we want!
You can imagine the confusion and consternation, then, when the official, after interminable delays and what seemed like ridiculous bureaucratic red tape, announced that there would not only be no food but that in fact they would all go to prison until he decided what to do about their case! How dare he? Prison? We have done nothing wrong, and prison is not for our kind of folks. Jail is where you put those other people, the ones who are always poor and always hungry and always short of everything. Jail is not for us; we are not that kind. We are just temporarily embarrassed; but sir, you have not understood that we are somebody.
But the official was not to be placated, and the brothers realized that, despise it as much as they might, they could not get around him. He did hold the key to what they wanted. And so with heavy hearts and with tempers flaring, with bruised egos as well as weary bodies, the brothers returned to their father, leaving behind one of their number and carrying the demand that their youngest brother, Benjamin, still at home, would be brought the next time to Egypt. How would they ever tell Jacob and how would they recover their pride? How horrible to be treated like some common thieves, just because you are hungry!
Still, there was something about that Egyptian, something that seemed familiar. What was it?
As they entered the family's gateway, old Jacob came running out to meet them, anticipation written all over his face. He expected success. When you are in that kind of social class, that kind of home, you expect success. The Jacobs of this world do not expect to be hungry, nor do they expect their sons and their daughters to fail: not in school, not in business, not in anything. We are just achievers, that's all. And so Jacob's discovery that the price of the grain they had brought back was his son Simeon as a hostage and his son Benjamin for a command performance in Egypt did not sit very well. But something else gave him and his sons a real surprise. The insult from the Egyptian officer now deepened into a mystery, and the questions about what this cryptic Egyptian was trying to do multiplied in a hurry. They opened the grain sacks and found there not only golden grain but just plain gold. All the money that they had paid out for the grain had been placed back in the sacks. It could not have been a mistake; there it was, neatly packaged up and squarely on top of each bag of grain, as if it had been done on purpose. But for what purpose? Why? The man had been so hostile: three days in prison, a brother still confined, the other brother summoned by decree. Why would he now turn the tables and give back the money?
I have to say that their consternation did not last long. They managed to get over it. Some of us, you know, are quite happy with financial windfalls and will paper over a lot of other concerns if money falls into our laps. Funny how when some extra dinero are in the bank account we don't worry overly much about brothers in prison or children who are hungry or missions to be performed in foreign lands. I have to say that I have seen over and over again that the spirit of generosity usually lives most vitally in those who have enough but not extra; it is those of us who get a little extra who want to sit tight on it. Statistics will show you that the richer Americans become, the more the proportion of giving falls. So Jacob and his sons, at least for a while.
But the famine became severe again. Food supplies again grew short, and they knew no other solution but to go back to the rascal in Egypt and buy more food. The price had not been high in money before, just in emotion. He had not really charged them cash, but he had exacted a price for the food: the price was humiliation. But doubtless the Egyptian had not been the first, nor was the last, somehow to make the needy grovel for what they got. He was not the first, nor would he be the last, to make the hungry wait in long lines and jump over bureaucratic hurdles and pass various tests. Who knows, maybe the Egyptian demanded to see the youngest brother in person just because the rules of the Egyptian Department of Human Services required proof of the number of mouths to be fed! Just following the rules!
Nonetheless, they must comply. If you want to get along, go along. But Jacob thought he knew how to sweeten the pot and help smooth the sailing. If you are going to have to take my little son Benjamin, all right, but try this too: take some of the choice fruits of the land in your bags, and carry down to the man a little present, a little balm and a little honey, gum, myrrh, pistachio nuts, and almonds.” Funny that folks who are desperate for food have so many goodies to give away; kind of makes you wonder about their definition of need, doesn’t it? But then some of us, you see, when push comes to shove, find that we have more than we claim to have. Some of us, when it gets down to it, have deeper pockets than we claim. But again, it gets down to that question of what we perceive our station in life to be, when you think you are somewhere up the scale, well, there are some things you hold back and you don't think you want to spend. Some of us put money into savings accounts and then pretend to have nothing to live on because we just can't spend or give out of the savings account. Some of us pack food into the freezer to keep it for some special time, and then when asked to feed a transient say, I don't have a thing in the house. Some of us store up grain in midwestern silos and then say, it would be good to feed starving Ethiopians if we had anything to spare.
But Jacob: Jacob says, well, take these goodies and bribe the man ... ‘er, I mean, give him a present. This will make him know who we are. This will signal to him that he is dealing with somebody.
And then old Jacob, wily, sly old Jacob ... we thought he had learned something as he grew older, but, you know, some of us get too soon old and too late smart … wily old Jacob thinks he knows what will oil the wheels for sure. "Take double the money with you; carry back the money that was in your sacks." Take double your money.
What do you suppose was in their minds as they trudge back to Egypt loaded down with fruits, nuts, their little brother, and a Visa gold card? What would you think about on your way to wheedle from some bureaucrat the food you wanted, knowing that he had made some kind of ridiculous mistake the first time around, knowing too that he was erratic and just might make you become dust under his feet before he would do what you wanted? What would you think about?
When the moment came, one of them just blurted it all out, “Sir, we guess you know the money was replaced in our sacks ... and before you get all discombobulated, before you clap the rest of us in jail, we’ve brought double your money. We can pay, we will pay; we know you think like we think, we know money talks. We’ve brought you double your money."
Silence, silence. Was it a glare of hostility on his face? Was it a question? Did we tell him more than we had to? Maybe he didn’t even know. Why doesn’t he speak? What’s going to happen?
The Egyptian speaks, “Rest assured, don’t be afraid; your God and the God of your father must have put treasure in your sacks for you. I received your money.”
And then the Egyptian, still not having revealed himself as the brother they thought they had long since gotten rid of … the Egyptian, Joseph, though they still did not recognize him ... Joseph's heart yearned for his brothers, and he sought a place to weep. And he entered his chamber and wept there. Then he washed his face and came out and controlling himself he said, “Let food be served." :Let food be served.”
Whereby we learn some lessons:
First, that those of us who have something and are used to having something must not think that we have it because we are better or because we are lucky or because we’ve worked harder. God put treasure into our sacks; God did it.
Second, that when we are in a position to help someone in need, we do not have to humiliate them first, we do not have to make them fit our expectations of what hungry people ought to be like. We don't own the resources of this world, it's that God has chosen us to be channels of blessing. But He chose us to be channels, not obstacles.
Third, that whatever our station in life we are brothers and sisters in disguise. Some of us are like Jacob's sons; we don't expect to see brothers out there, because we think we have remove the problem, we think we have gotten rid of the offender, we moved to a nice community. But deep down, we know that the man who looks different is still our brother, that the woman who seems so out of control is still our sister. Brothers and sisters in disguise. And others of us are like Joseph; we know that these folks who ask our help are our brothers and sisters, we do recognize them up here, in our heads, but we haven't revealed it yet. We haven't made common cause with them yet. We have not identified as brother and sister to the poor. We need to come clean about who we are.
And fourth, we learn that just when we thought we got exactly what we paid for, just when we indulged in the illusion that what’s mine is mine and I got it the old-fashioned way, I earned it … just then God fills our sacks with treasure and says, “Here, here is more, you didn’t earn anything. I gave it to you. Don’t be suspicious, be grateful. If you doubled your money, increased your resources, don’t be afraid, be grateful. Nor be proud, be grateful.
And finally, do you know now, have you learned it yet, that just when we thought we were giving too much, just when we doubled our money and thought the price of love was creeping up too far, at precisely that moment we found out that it was a caring God who increased our resources? Somewhere on a journey to do a mission of mercy God took what we thought we had spent and doubled it, magnified it.
We thought it was too much when the Lord took our five loaves and two little fish to feed the five thousand. After all, it was all we had. But when we were willing to give it up and let him use it to feed a hungry world, there was ample left over. We doubled our money and then some. You cannot outgive God when you share a journey of faith.
We thought it was too much when the Lord asked us to scrape the bottom of the barrel of meal and oil in order to feed the prophet, but when we took him at his word and we were willing to use whatever we had for Kingdom purposes, however it happened, the barrels filled again and we had more than enough. I guess it just means you cannot outgive God when you share a mission of mercy and a journey of faith.
We may think it is too much when the hungry of Ethiopia and the starving of southeast Washington implore us for yet more. We may think it is presumptuous that our church will call us to give through rice bowls and to give through Communion offerings and to make pledges and on and on and on; but then why don't we just take him at his word and see if it be not true that if we even double our money in giving we cannot outgive God who calls us to walk on a mission of mercy, a journey of faith.
Joseph's heart yearned for his brothers and he sought a place to weep, but then he washed his face and came out and controlling himself, disciplining himself, he said, “Let food be served.”
