I
want to talk a bit today about two things on my mind: anxiety and giving. I
know that might seem like a strange combo, and I think we can all understand
the importance of talking about anxiety.
After all, everybody’s got that deer in the headlights look right now, except
it’s a super slow motion thing, more like the moose, who are actually attracted
by headlights. So not only do they not know what to do, they actually run in
circles toward the problem. We are the moose right now, embodying anxiety.
But what that has to do with giving might seem
particularly unclear. You might well be thinking, “I know the church needs to pay the bills, but, really, is that what you’re
talking about today?”
Not exactly. It’s really a story about the poor
widow from the Gospel of Mark, but I’m going to get there by first talking
about feeling anxious.
If you’d rather skip ahead past the anxiety part,
you can actually do that today. For once you can change the channel or go talk
a quick shower and come back. That’s the advantage of watching me in your
pajamas and/or drinking a mimosa.
You’d think it’s awkward to crack jokes and not
get laughs, but that’s actually the one part of this that is pretty much the
same as a typical Sunday morning.
Laughing is actually the first thing we need to
do together. Whatever I can do to lighten the mood, because right now we are
cooped up, isolated, and anxious, and it’s largely not about contracting COVID-19.
It’s more the abrupt disruption to our sense of what is normal and our physical
distancing from one another. On top of the normal stress of change we are
forced into the exact opposite reaction we would typically have in the face of
adversity. We’re told to stay apart.
If you are feeling anxious today, first off,
that just means that you are normal. Name that: I am feeling anxious, and it’s
completely normal.
Next, you need to name the specifics of what you
are anxious about. If you want to do this at home, go ahead, jot down some
notes… or just let your mind wander. When we begin to list things we are
anxious about, we should realize first of all that what is weighing heavily on
me may be different from you. For me, I’m anxious not about myself or my family
getting sick; I’m far more anxious about many of you. I’m anxious for our
doctors and nurses, for our nursing home, and for my parents. But it’s not just
about people getting sick either. I’m anxious about our business. I’m anxious
about finances. I’m anxious about other peoples’ finances. I’m anxious about
how long this will last for a variety of reasons (I’m guessing we’re all in the
same boat on that one). I’m anxious about all the families cooped up together,
the kids in unsafe situations; I’m anxious about drug and alcohol abuse,
spousal abuse, child abuse. I’m anxious about funerals and our inability to
grieve well. I’m anxious about the loss of income for people who have seen
themselves as self-made their whole lives; I’m anxious about what that will do
to people; and I’m anxious that you won’t reach out for help and will instead
internalize everything. I’m anxious for people who are trying to be strong,
because our strength relies on our bonds with one another. You are not an island;
you are deeply connected with other human beings and we need to figure out how
to keep it that way.
The strange thing about all those things I’m
anxious about is that I felt a little better immediately after writing them
down. Now, I feel a little better again having said them. Now, you might feel
worse having listened to mine, but if you process through the things making you
anxious, it will help. Anxiety is like that—it is at its worst when we keep it
pent up. Naming it helps.
For those of you who are Harry Potter fans (and
I suspect the ratio of Harry Potter fans may be higher this morning than ever
before), our anxiety works the way that the name of “Lord Voldemort” works in
the Harry Potter series. Most wizards are so afraid of Voldemort that they
refuse to say his name, and that reluctance to name their fear increases their
fear of him. Saying the name “Lord Voldemort” didn’t make anybody any safer, but
it made them less fearful and that isn’t a small thing.
Anxiety is like this. We don’t solve any of our
problems by naming them, but the weight of them can be shared just by admitting
it.
One last thing about anxiety: Everybody has it.
For some it is a constant companion, but everybody has it in moments of particular
stress when the answers aren’t immediately obvious. You are in one of those
moments. You’re not being strong by pretending you’re not anxious. Strength is
admitting that you are not a chunk of granite; you are a person, which is great
because we don’t fall in love with rocks; we fall in love with people. We don’t
trust rocks; we trust people. We aren’t bending our society for the sake of
rocks; we are changing everything for the sake of people. If you’re a person,
you are probably feeling at least somewhat anxious. The great news is that we God
created and called people good, Jesus died for people, and we are charged with
the care of people.
There is no one size fits all solution to feeling
anxious, but beyond naming it and prioritizing our needs, the next thing we can
do is to give it away. And I mean this literally: Whatever you are holding
tight, give it away. In every sense, we need to give—money, time, energy,
prayer. One thing we can all give right now is one another a break. Whoever you’ve
been hardest on lately (and that may well be yourself), give that person a
break.
I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve had
this week with people who want to help. Most of the time all I can say is
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” because we have this paradox of a problem
that is solved by eliminating human interaction. It’s the exactly opposite of
every problem we’ve ever had in Hallock, Minnesota. For the first time ever, we
don’t need more people.
In the face of incredible need we are hard-wired
to give. Babies do this by instinct. From the first time that Elias started
eating solid food, he began giving it other people who clearly didn’t his
mushed up bananas. When Natalie was a year old she repeatedly tried to give her
snacks to a stranger on a plane. This is who we are: Givers. It’s how we help
ourselves feel better about problems.
So, here’s the really big question before us
today: In light of COVID-19 and the particular challenges it presents, how do
we give? And, maybe most importantly of all, how do we overcome our real
anxieties to continue to share what we have?
I love that our reading for today is about a
widow who gives a penny. Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more
than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have
contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in
everything she had, all she had to live on."
See, there’s this natural human inclination to give from our
abundance. If you’re rich, you give lots of money. If you have lots of time,
you volunteer. If you love people thoroughly, then you share love. If you are
talented, you use that talent for the sake of others. This is how we typically
give, but so many of us are stymied right now because what we have in abundance
seems useless. We can’t show our love the way we would like; we have lots of
time but we don’t know how to contribute; and we might have money but also
plenty of fears for the future. But Jesus doesn’t lift up the one who gives out
of abundance; instead it is the one who gives out of scarcity. The poor widow
gave everything she had, which was basically nothing, but the measure of
fulfillment is not how much we have but how totally we give it away.
Giving is this weird thing that feels like it is about other
people, like I have something and they need it so I’m helping them, but it’s
far more about ourselves. After all, whatever we give can be wasted and it may
very well be accepted ungratefully. It’s now about how a gift is used; it’s
about what that gift does to we who give. When we give something away we are
acknowledging that everything belongs to God anyway. God doesn’t need us to
give; we need to give in order to remind ourselves that we are not God. Anxiety
can be a creeping awareness that we are vulnerable and that we cannot fix our
problems. Embrace that awareness by giving it away, by acknowledging that you are
not God; your money and times and talents—like toilet paper—are not yours to
hoard, so give it away.
But what does that mean? Is it just a sneaky way to say,
“Keep giving to the church, because I need to feed my family.” Well, maybe. But
it doesn’t need to be your church. Support the food pantry; support hospice;
support a friend or relative. Support somebody. But it’s not all about money
either. What are you giving your time to these days? I get that you can’t be
out hugging strangers or visiting folks at the Nursing Home, but what are you
giving your time to, really? Is it the news? If so, let me free you for a
moment: Stop giving your precious time and emotional energy to the news. Read
the minimum you need to be educated, then get away from it. You need to take
care of yourself, and Fox News, CNN, and Twitter are not taking care of you.
Instead, use your time for something productive. If you don’t
know what to do, take a walk. Give attention to the amazing world around us, to
God’s hand at work in our lives, and to good little jobs that will demonstrate
that love when it comes time to get back again. One of the best gifts you can
give right now is to call a friend and make them laugh. We need to laugh, to
share jokes, to share smiles.
Those are the gifts we need right now, and
they are completely free. Give these. Start there. Laugh. Joke. Smile. Those
are scarce things right now, so, like the poor widow, those are the things Jesus
commends us to give.
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