“The Gift of Receiving” – Dec 26, 2010

December 26, 2010
Scripture: Luke 7: 36-50

Now one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, so he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of ointment, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to bathe his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and anointed them with the ointment.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.”
Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. “Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled.” “You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.
Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven loves little.” Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Sermon: The Gift of Receiving
by Rev. Doreen Oughton

Several years ago I became friends with a young couple at my home church. Rose developed a cyst in her brain that required surgery. Being fairly new to a church community, I was amazed and touched by the outpouring of support given to this family. People from the church cooked meals, cared for their toddler, made calls, gave rides and called to offer words of support and prayer and encouragement. Rose’s husband Andrew began sending e-mails out chronicling their experiences in the hospital. He talked about the treatment, Rose’s response to it, about his own feelings of helplessness and fear. And always, always he expressed deep gratitude for all that people were doing for them. He let us know that it made a difference. I was deeply moved. I felt so inspired, so connected. Not just to Andrew and Rose, but to everyone who was helping in their own way, to everyone who was reading those e-mails. It was a spiritual experience, a gift. Aha!, I thought, this, this is how to make a gift of receiving. What a wonderful realization to see what an impact the way one receives can have on the one who gives, and on all those around them.
It was a timely and important insight for me back then, and I could make a connection immediately to something I was trying to figure out. You see I had been thinking about how much I would like to be a minister. I had the idea of going to seminary, but when I looked at what that would involve, I hesitated. I knew without a doubt that I could not possibly do it without support, and plenty of it. I would have to ask for help, I would have to accept that others, especially those closest to me – my children – would make some sacrifice if I were to pursue this call. My experience with Rose and Andrew helped me to consider that perhaps I could ask for and accept the help and sacrifice of others in a way that would be a blessing to them. It is a charge I carry with me as part of my call, expressing gratitude, acknowledging the difference that others make in my life. And now here I am, almost ten years later, the circle of people who have taught me, supported me and walked with me growing ever larger.
It seems so simple in some ways, and yet even with this insight there are times that it is so difficult to receive graciously. I get caught up in worrying about how I can ever pay back what has been given. I worry that my need for help indicates weakness or inadequacy, that I will be viewed as a parasite, a taker. Because sometimes this dance of giving and receiving becomes in our minds an issue of power. I’m sure most of us can identify with the good feelings that come with being the giver. I have something to share, I can do this. It’s empowering, validating. So what does it feel like to be on the receiving end? Now for most of us, it’s not too hard to receive a gift – a little something special that shows someone was thinking of us, or an acknowledgment of some milestone in our lives. It’s also validating, lovely. But what if it’s not about gifts, but about necessities? How does it feel to be in need? What is it like to know you don’t have the resources on your own to fully care for yourself or your loved ones, whether materially, emotionally or physically? What is it like then to have someone else provide for you? Tricky, isn’t it.
I read a story once of two friends, one of whom got into some serious real estate problems. She borrowed a substantial amount of money from the other to take care of the problem, and wrote about what it was like to have this debt to her friend. She wondered if the other was thinking about it as much as she was, if the other was judging her spending habits or regretting the loan. She wondered, “will my friend be upset if I buy shoes before paying her back.” The other didn’t think much about the loan after making it, trusting that her friend would repay her when she could. But can’t you imagine how the borrower might project her own feelings onto her friend and become resentful and defensive? How the lender would pick up on this resentment and feel victimized or judgmental. Fortunately, they were able to talk this through, and the friendship remained intact, even growing closer through this process.
I have been blessed to experience the joys of giving and receiving countless times in my own life, and been able to bear witness to the transforming power of this dynamic for others. A few stories really stand out. A young man told me how he’d gotten into big trouble with the law and was facing significant jail time. His father, with whom he’d had a difficult relationship, offered help. Even through the anger that he carried towards his father, he was desperate enough to accept. And this acceptance opened something up for him. His father cashed in his retirement account to pay for good legal representation, making all the difference in keeping this young man out of jail. He talked to me with great feeling about how he had screwed up, how much he’d hurt his family, how his father would have to work at least 3 extra years to make up for the money taken out. But something in his tone changed as he said, “You know, my father didn’t even hesitate to offer the money. When I said ‘I can’t believe you are doing this for me,’ he said, ‘Of course I am, you’re my baby.’ Can you believe it,” he said, “he called me his baby. I haven’t been called that since I was a baby.” He was truly basking in this love, and this love was healing his guilt and shame. I pointed out that it seems like a gift to his father also, to be able to show his love so clearly and to have it received so fully. It allowed them to start building a different type of relationship, a blessing to them both.
Another woman I know had trouble receiving the generosity of her family. She’d also made some bad decisions, messed up some things in her life. She needed help. Her parents decided to sell their cherished 2-bedroom home on the water to get a 3-bedroom place to accommodate their daughter and her child for the long term. She had such mixed feelings about this generous act. She talked about her guilt and remorse that she made such a mess of her life and needed help. She felt pressure to stay on the right path, and stress over the pressure. It felt to her like a big axe hanging over her head. She didn’t like thinking about how another mistake on her part might hurt her parents. What if their sacrifice was for nothing? When people told her how lucky she was to have her parents’ help, it felt like salt in the wound. “I should be more grateful,” she said. But somehow she felt small next to their large act of faith. But imagine if she began to see their act as springing from their love for her and their sense of her core worth and value, regardless of mistakes. Imagine if she believed herself in her core worth and value. Living into that love would truly be a gift to all of them. But gratitude can be difficult when one is weighed down by guilt and shame.
Whether giving or receiving, the connection with the humanity of the other is crucial. I’ve heard horror stories of “giving” in which the recipient is flooded with shame by the process. A woman who was on welfare for several years writes about the degradation she endured, and the ways the welfare system keeps one down. The endless, repetitive paper work, the judgmental looks and words of the clerks, the waiting, the delays. Imagine the terror of poverty, the fear of hunger and homelessness if someone with power is annoyed or offended. How does one avoid feeling hopeless, discouraged, useless. What is this, because I don’t recognize this as giving? It is far, far from providing care.
In stark contrast are the ideas about giving offered by Ram Dass in his book How Can I Help? First, he sees that all are one. The connection between us is so strong that we recognize that a need in another is a need in our self. In giving to another we receive something for ourselves. In receiving from another we give something too. He notes that being involved in an act of service, whether giving or receiving, is an act of worship, reverence, gratitude. Together we serve a greater truth, the source of Being in which we are all joined in love. In the book, a missionary shares stories of her experiences of “helping.” She says, “I would go into someone’s hut for the first time, wondering how they could live under such conditions, and I’m embraced by this lovely woman who gives me her only chair and spends 3 hours talking, and asks when can I come back. I cannot believe her liveliness and purity of heart and she awakens me to my own. And I see that service is beauty.
Or a kid comes by and asks to dust our car. We see him later peering in the window as we prepare our main meal. So we invite him in as payment, and pile his plate high, and he’s eating like there’s no tomorrow. And then he hears some other kids outside and he catches himself and takes the food out to them. And I am blown away. I see that service is remembering.”
She writes, “Sometimes I’d feel uncomfortable, guilty, about the comfort of our quarters. It was nothing special, but we had beds, not the boards they slept on, and some semblance of privacy, like they’d never known. But they’d come in and say ‘Isn’t this beautiful, oh it’s so nice’ – without the slightest envy, with nothing but appreciation on our behalf, and I see that service is gratitude.”
I love these stories where one can’t tell who is giving and who is receiving. It is all rolled together in a holy moment of connection and love. Just like in Luke’s story of Jesus and the woman with the jar of ointment. Join me in imagining what might have been the grace-filled experience of this woman.
The moment I heard the teacher was back in the village, I knew I had to try to see him. I had to tell him what he did for me, how he changed my life. I had really messed up, hurt people, brought shame on my family and my community. I’d given up hope that things could change back, and just kept going on, getting through each day without thinking much about all I’d lost and what I had become. Then a friend talked me into going to hear the Nazarene preacher that so many people were talking about. I can hardly find words to describe what happened. It wasn’t just his words that gave me hope. It was his whole presence. At one point he looked right at me, right into me. Oh, those eyes. I felt like I was a person again. Could it be true what he said, that God loved me, that he was here for me, a sinner? I felt the truth of it in my bones. Since then I have started to live a life of dignity. It turned everything around. So you see why I had to let him know. I had to thank him. I wanted to give him something, so I took my jar of ointment, the dearest thing I had.
I knew where the Pharisee Simon lived. I won’t say I wasn’t scared. O how my heart was pounding as I approached. Such relief that the courtyard was empty. I crossed it and entered the house. I paused inside the doorway, listening. I heard the deep resonance of men’s voices, a lively discussion, and I followed them. As I got closer I could smell the food, meat grilling, bread baking. I came to the doorway of the dining area peering around into the room. The low table was laden with food, a woman was moving about serving, the men reclining, eating and talking. Then they noticed me and everyone stopped talking, looking up at me, astonished. I felt my cheeks flush. I was frozen, panicked – where was he? Then he leaned up from where he’d been reclining, the back of the couch hiding him. There were those eyes again, open and welcoming. He knew I’d come to see him. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and love. The others fell away, and I moved toward him. Tears poured from my eyes. What else was there to do with them but offer them to him, wash him as I’d been washed. I opened my jar, the fragrance of the perfumed oil filling my senses. I rubbed it into my hands and onto his feet. My tears finally began to subside. In the background I heard Simon speak, but I don’t know what he said. The he spoke, Jesus. He’s talking about what I’m doing for him. He’s talking about love. I look up at him and he says to me, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” That blessing sank right into my heart, and I felt his peace. I knew that he would be with me always, and so I took my leave.
May we all receive the blessings of Christ with transforming love and gratitude. Amen.