Almost but not quite....

This morning's drive to work was marked by the dreary overcast so common to this time of year. Gray clouds lowered over the interstate; trees hunkered down, wrapped in the not-quite-fog, their empty arms upraised in praise, or perhaps surrender. My tires hummed on the damp pavement as I struggled to find the right fit, not too fast, not too slow.

My mind drifted back to the study at church last night, the study of the book of Hebrews. We summarized the past several weeks study as we wrapped up this interesting book, and we remarked on the appropriateness of some verses to our current situation at church. "We have much to say about this, but it is hard to explain because you are slow to learn. In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God's word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil." We are, it was agreed, a vicious throng, devouring those who should be leading us, binding them in chains, leading them away into a captivity of spirit that lesser folks would shrink from.

Alas, our study didn't lead to any solutions, just a gnawing sense that something has to change. We'll overcome, we'll move ahead, grow new membership, then repeat the whole process.

One of the church signs I watch for new kernels of enlightenment proclaimed the following:

Jesus - First
Others - Second
Yourself - Last

I thought about that. There's reality in it, as there almost always is in the pithy little pericopes of thought these signs share. It also seemed to me how easy it is for us to get wrapped up in the first and third, but forget the second. Yet, when we put other's first, above all else, we just naturally find ourselves putting Jesus first, after all.

This past Sunday it was again my job to organize the breakfast for our homeless constituents. I did something I hadn't done the previous numerous times I've cooked... I turned over the serving to others.

And I left church feeling so unfed.

It dawned on me, it's in the serving of others that I've been meeting Jesus each week. "Good morning, sir!" "Good morning, Ma'am!" "Have a nice day!" These little comments, so innocent, seemingly meaningless, are most profound when sincerely applied to those our society chooses NOT to respect, or care about. Whatsoever you do...

Another topic last night was equality. We considered that we as a people pay such lip service to this concept. We profess equality of all people, yet don't try to be too equal, you've overstepped your place!

These folk who come in, they deserve respect, they deserve to be treated as my equal. Not because they have succeeded at something, the normal standard of equality, the normative measure for deserving respect. They deserve respect and recognition of their equality, not for what they have done or contributed, or are likely to contribute, but rather they are deserving of respect for the simple fact that they exist. They are humans, created in God's image, and made little lower than the angels themselves.

Melchizedek. From "Malek" and "Tsedeq". King and Righteousness. Old Melchy is mentioned more in Hebrews than in any of the rest of scripture. Considered by some to be a precursor of the Christ, who, like the Christ, came out bearing bread and wine and blessing. How many other times, we asked ourselves last night, has the Christ been made manifest, in hidden forms, to this earth?

Might, we asked, the various suppositions of angelic involvement in human affairs really be the Christ? No resolution to that, either, how could there be? Yet, it seemed to me, the answer is yes. And no. No, because the stories we were specifically considering are of people who more or less miraculously appear, fix a problem or assist in a burden, then disappear from our lives. That seems to me to be a succinctly angelic function.

But I do believe the Christ has appeared to us in other forms than old Melchy or Jesus. I think he's the hitchhiker under the bridge whom I passed by. I think he's that homeless man in the serving line who doesn't say anything but smiles the most beautiful smile.

It's THAT Christ that I hope I'm reaching when I ladle up the next serving of sausage or eggs or potatos.

And speaking of potatos... our guests didn't much like our potatos on Sunday. They were very much undercooked. And the orange juice was, well, a bit watery.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers... at least they left with a full stomach."

If I threw a dinner party, and the potatos were undercooked, and the beverage watered down... I'd be utterly embarassed... so would those who dismissed it Sunday.

How do I tell those who dismiss undercooked potatos and watery OJ, how do I express what is in my heart? "Beggars can't be choosers..." The whole thought is condescending. Coming into this act of servitude with that mindset, that condescending attitude is absolutely the wrong way to go about it. For one thing, I believe it's a prescription for burnout.

I'm not serving beggars. I'm serving Jesus. I don't want to give him/her undercooked potatos and watery OJ. My Sunday breakfast isn't only about getting food to the hungry. These breakfasts are, for me, about the homeless. They're about loving service.

No, I don't want to serve undercooked potatos or watery juice to Jesus. And I don't want to give him divided attention and a distant heart.