The Transformative Power of LIVING GIVING.[1]

INTRODUCTION: Flannery O’Connor, a Southern writer from Georgia, intentionally Roman Catholic, who died at 39, was one of President John F. Kennedy’s favorites. He especially loved the following story based in Ireland.

O’Connor tells of a group of boys walking home from school one day, when they decided to take a shortcut through the farm fields, rather than stay on the roads. Once the decision was made, they all began the trek across the farms and fields of Ireland. They hadn’t gone far until they came to an imposing fence. It was made of ancient stones, placed carefully through the centuries, one upon the other. The farmers who built it meant to keep others out and their animals in. Initially, the boys tried individually to mount the wall, but all to no avail. It was too high…too foreboding…too big for them to get over. Then one boy, Sean O’Malley, took off his cap and threw it over the wall. The others asked, “What did you do that for?” Sean replied, “I’ll really be in trouble if I come home without my cap. I’ve got to get over.” The rest agreed. They then joined in to help Sean get over the fence, even standing on each other’s shoulders. Once Sean reached the top, he turned back and helped the others up.

There’s one very powerful lesson in O’Connors’ story: It’s this: Determining how we overcome any obstacle is never as important as the decision to overcome it. Young Sean didn’t debate the merits of getting over…he didn’t count to see how many would help him…rather, he took his cap and threw it over. After making his decision to get over the wall, then he asked, “How in the world am I ever going to get over this fence?” It was so big, so high, so thick. But he asked that question only after throwing his hat over the wall, which was making the commitment to get over it.

The greatest threats to addressing the needs of our society are not the lack of compassion or caring people. Rather, it’s addressing the issue of “how” could we ever possibly help our neighborhood or community, before committing to act…to throwing our cap over the wall.

How many great ideas lie dormant because the ones with the great ideas failed to realize that the most important lesson in getting things done is always to make the commitment to do them, first. Then comes the time to determine, how in the world is that wall going to be scaled? How will we ever manage to climb that enormous obstacle? How will we ever get our cap back?

            Nine times out of ten, great ideas are shot down before ever being given a chance to get legs, because someone says it will cost too much, require too much effort, or it’s already been tried before and failed, before the decision has even been made to examine resources and develop a plan. In the end, it may cost too much. It may be beyond the capacities of the initiators, but how is always subsequent to the commitment to do something. First comes the leap of faith…then we grow wings.

In the late 1930s, a young nun who was principal of a girls Roman Catholic high school in Calcutta, was traveling on the train from Calcutta to Darjeeling to go on spiritual retreat. Though she had made the trip many times before, there was something different this time: As she viewed the squalor and deprivation that consumed much of Calcutta, it was as if her eyes were opened and she was seeing it…really seeing it…for the first time.

Mother Teresa had what she later called, “a calling within a calling.” It wasn’t to be a nun in service to the church; she had answered that call almost 20 years earlier. She was no longer content with her privileged position as principal of an elite high school, even though she was still fulfilling all the requirements that being a nun made. But she felt there was more…more of what she had dreamed of when first she answered her calling to dedicate her life to the Church. More than teaching, she felt she needed to minister to the poorest of the poor, or as she described them in the book of her private writings,[2] "the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the lepers, all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for throughout society, people that have become a burden to society and are shunned by everyone."  

Now as you can imagine, there was not a lot of competition then to identify with those who survive on the edges. Nor was there that much concern in Jesus’ day…nor in America today. As a result, poverty is a growth industry. Simply put, the American system doesn’t work for a significant segment of our population.

For some of us, the system is wonderful; for others, it’s a cold and calculating reality that decent jobs have been swallowed up by the Great Recession; banks and mortgage holders would rather foreclose from a distance on homes, rather than meet with the owners face to face and help them to stay put. And if you are one of the one-in-six with no health insurance and suffer a serious illness, much less a major one…if you are one of those who had insurance against sickness, but then got sick and were cancelled…forget about retirement…forget about the American dream. It won’t happen.

Why? Because the American system doesn’t work…for those on the edges: the ones whom the Jewish prophet Isaiah (Is. 61:01) and Jesus of Nazareth, called (Luke 04:18) the poor, the brokenhearted, the captives, and the blind, and whom the Christian scripture, Matthew, named as “the hungry, the thirsty, the immigrant, the naked, the sick, and those in prison” (Matthew 25)

At this moment, there’s a very important national conversation going on in our nation’s capital about health insurance. Though there are many good and hardworking politicians at work, don’t expect to see anyone at their deliberations who is hungry or homeless, someone from prison, or an undocumented immigrant.

They are nowhere near the debate and the seats of power. They are those for whom the system wasn’t designed. They are the ones whom Mother Teresa said were, “shunned.”

What’s worse: Most don’t vote. And with our money driven political system, in which politicians are forced to depend upon the wealthy to run for office…and with our Supreme Court having ruled that corporations and businesses have the right to give unlimited amounts of money for political campaigns – contending that corporate donations are protected just like free speech – it means that the poor will never be at the table. It will always be millionaires and multimillionaires and those with too much too much, trying to convince the rest of us that their interests are our interests. And let the least pick up the crumbs.

 That is not a news bulletin or a news flash. Anyone who listens to the radio or television, or reads the newspaper, knows that until we have public financing of political campaigns, our political system is bought, wrapped and paid for by the rich and powerful, the lobbyists and the corporations they represent. Our political system is designed by the rich, to take care of the rich, in support of the rich. And seemingly the only change is when laws are passed as they were in the last administration to enable the rich to get even richer.

Which means that this wonderful experiment we call democracy is in jeopardy…unless we are willing to pick up the pieces and do our part to make sure that the voices of all Americans are heard.

This came home to me when I was working with my Civic Engagement Class at FGCU last year to shape their community project. We decided that they would spend 10 hours in the community registering those who were the most underrepresented in elections…which meant two hours with each of six underrepresented populations.

And who would that be?

n      Nursing home residents: just because you are unable to take care of yourself by yourself, does not mean you are not a citizen and do not have the right to vote.

n      What about the homeless? Since when did not having a place of your own to lay your head at night serve as disentitlement to that most basic of democratic practices? Namely, voting.

n      What about those men on construction jobs, running giant pieces of equipment: Will they be allowed to shut them down and go in to the polls?

n      What about Spanish speaking Hispanics: Will they be able to read the ballot?

n      Will African Americans be inspired and encouraged to leave their places on the bottom economic rung of society for a moment and vote to make a difference? 

Hopefully, one day with federally financed political campaigns, the voter will hold the key to power, and this democracy will live up to its promise of government “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” 

But activism by itself is not enough. There is one other thing that distinguishes what we do as caring people. It’s called love…“love for God” in religious language…love for neighbor and love for ourselves. And one of the most helpful practical definitions I’ve ever heard of “love,” is not some smaltzy, maltzy definition. It’s “the willingness to be important to another person or persons.”

Love can get tiring. We can get close to burnout. We can become too weary to continue on. I experienced that firsthand with my own family.

Several years ago, the mother of my children and I decided after 15 years of marriage to divorce. We had three children. One was only five years of age.

As I wrestled with the consequences of our decision, I struggled mostly with what it could do to my kids. I worked on ways to be present for them. It was inadequate at best, but I did feel compelled to try. One of the many things I committed to was that I would call them every day.

Their mother was very supportive and understanding of how important it was for them to stay connected with their father. Nonetheless, especially when I moved to California and time zones were off, or traveling overseas, sometimes trying to call every day seemed like a futile effort. Many times they were busy watching TV; or they were getting ready to go to the Mall.

I kept calling. As the years rolled by, my daughters married and I let up with the calls to them, but my son was still in college, and one particular semester he was in a special program attending American University in Washington, D.C. And I was minister at a Unitarian Universalist church in Oklahoma, where we were having what we called “Channing Classics” every Friday night. It included classical singers from the universities nearby and a dinner that enabled us to pay modest honorariums to the participants.

On this particular Friday night, by the time I arrived home it was getting quite late: 10:30 Central, and 11:30 Eastern. And I realized I hadn’t called my son yet. I hesitated: Would he even notice if I didn’t? Besides he might be out or maybe he was asleep.

But once again, I had made the commitment that every day I would attempt to call. I dialed the number and Brett answered the phone. There was noise in the background; it sounded like several others were present in his room. I said, “Hey, Brett. It’s Dad. Sounds like you have people present and are busy. I can call you tomorrow.”

In all those years, I had never again mentioned, that no matter where I was, I would call him every single day. It had never been mentioned again, even when I had called at some of the most difficult times and the most inappropriate places. And when he didn’t answer, there was always a message left on the recorder. But I knew how inadequate it was, and that a phone call was in no way a replacement for a father. Yet I kept it up.

This time though, he acknowledged for the first time how important it was. He said, “Dad, I’m glad you called. I was talking to my roommate today and I told him that you called me every day, and he said he wished his dad would call him at least once a month.”

When I finished our conversation, I was overcome with emotion…but I knew he got it…that though it would have been much better had he had a dad present not just on weekends or summers. But regardless, wherever and whatever, there was always a call that always ended with both of us reaffirming our love one for the other.

 CONCLUSION.

A few weeks back, Rev. Israel Suarez asked for help with his Thanksgiving Day Dinner at the Nations Association, when they intend to feed some 350 or more. I said I would get back with him. I brought it to the board and then to Doug and Dianne Cartwright of the Service Support Council. As if reading a copy of my sermon before it was written, they began to inquire about others helping. Soon, we had more cooked turkeys than the 25 needed. Through the intervention of Lloyd Fish, the Unitarian Universalist Church of Ft. Myers agreed to cook six or even 8 to 10. Peggy JSingh secured a promise of six or eight, depending on size from Sweet Tomatoes Restaurant. Our caterer, Elvira Griffin agreed to cook six. Broadway Palm agreed to fix Dressing. And before long, all of the other pieces began to fall into place…and we were only needing desserts…and then they started coming in.

            Though there are some mechanics about pickup and delivery still to be worked out, the reality is that Rev. Suarez committed publicly to providing turkey meals for 400 on Thanksgiving Day without one turkey or a place to cook. All Faiths agreed to do the cooking and serving also without its own kitchen. But soon all the pieces had been set into position through this one powerful example of a man who lives the very concept of “giving”: But it begins with the commitment…then working out the details.

Later, Jim Nathan is going to introduce Rev. Suarez to us, but for now, let’s pause for a moment. Please relax, and get comfortable in your chair, as we pause for this time of:

MEDITATION

 Prayer is a choice…we choose where to focus our minds and attention. So I invite you please, choose to be present for this moment.

We aren’t the chosen people, but we are the choosing people…we choose for this moment to erase thoughts about the past or concerns about the future…and to be present in this moment.

            Now choose a word such as faith, hope, or love, and chant it repeatedly in your mind, letting it cleanse you of every thought of any word or deed. And be here. Now in the silence: