|
|
With Strings Attached Corinthians 12: 3b – 13 |
|
|
With Strings Attached Not so many months ago, most if not all of us received some gifts: Christmas gifts. How were they wrapped? In paper of red or green or gold? Wound up in shiny ribbon? Topped with satiny bows? How did it feel to open those gifts? Chances are, we didn’t know what was inside those boxes or gift bags. There was that moment of curiosity — pick it up ... shake it ... feel its weight. Then came the cutting of the ribbon, the tearing of the paper, the opening of the cardboard flaps. What joy, to discover how much someone loves us, loves us enough to offer a gift! Ask yourself this question, though. How would you have felt, if — as soon as you’d opened your gift — the giver were to have said, “Let me have that for a moment”? You hand it over. “You know, that really is a nice present. I’d like to have it for myself. I think I’ll keep it!” We used to have a word for that kind of person, back when I was a kid. The word was, “Indian giver.” Origins of a slur Few of us realized, at the time, that “Indian giver” is a nasty, racial slur. Anyone who has spent any time with Native Americans knows that generosity is deeply ingrained in those cultures. Guests are accorded warm hospitality. In the potlatch tradition of the Pacific Northwest, hosts give themselves poor, making sure their guests walk away with far more than they need. So, where did the “Indian giver” expression come from? It arose on the Western frontier, in the confused, chaotic time when settlers from European backgrounds were pushing their way into native lands. Those were communal cultures, those native tribes. They didn’t have the same understanding of ownership the settlers did. Very few things in native culture were considered the personal property of individuals. It all belonged to the tribe. If somebody took a hankering to something you’d been carrying around, more than likely you’d give it up. You knew the favor would be returned someday, when you saw something you liked. As for real estate, nobody owned any land. It all belonged to everyone. When European settlers came along and purchased property — for grazing horses, say — the native inhabitants didn’t quite get the concept. They thought the wampum and iron tools their visitors offered were gifts. When the natives returned, a few months later, to graze their horses on the same spot, the Europeans assumed they’d reneged on the bargain. That’s how the unfortunate, racially offensive — and terribly inaccurate — label, “Indian giver,” came to be. The Europeans thought the gifts they received from Native Americans all had strings attached — when, in fact, there were no strings at all, because everything still belonged to everybody. Ownership That may
seem like a long way to travel, to finally come around to our
scripture text from What does it mean, in this day and age, to hold something “for the common good”? So much of what we own is held individually. Every time we walk into a store to buy something, we come out not only with the item we’ve purchased, but with a little slip of paper — a receipt — that proves we own it. For bigger items, such as a car, a house or a boat, we have a fancier piece of paper, called a title or deed. If we finish a course at a school or university, we’re given a diploma to hang on the wall, proof that we truly do own that little piece of knowledge we’ve just spent so much time, money and effort acquiring. As for money itself, why, we’ve got whole institutions, called banks, whose sole purpose is to keep track of who owns what. We’re so into ownership in our culture that we even like to own some of the things we give away. How else to account for the popularity of the ever-present brass plaques, that remind the world who’s given a certain gift? Then there are the engraved pavers, very popular these days. Those are the bricks, set into the ground outside a school or library, each one telling the story of the gift a donor has made. The donors don’t expect to receive the money back, of course, but they do like the idea of that little string attached to the gift, by which anyone so inclined can trace it back to them. It used to be that the professions gave greater emphasis to the common good. Attorneys designated a certain number of hours as pro bono — “for good” — which they donated to social-service organizations or to the needy. Doctors used to take on a certain number of patients whom they knew couldn’t pay, or maybe could only pay in farm produce. A few professionals still donate large amounts of time in that way, but in this acquisitive society, they’re going the way of the dinosaurs. Individualism Not only that, people aren’t joining bowling leagues anymore! You may have heard of that well-publicized study that came out a number of years ago. It seems the manufacturers of beer and pretzels have been noticing a certain drop-off in profits from bowling alleys. Faced with such a problem as that, they did what any self-respecting executive would do: They commissioned a study. The study revealed that fewer Americans were joining bowling leagues. It’s not that people are no longer bowling; they’re just not joining leagues. The American public is bowling in smaller groups now, on a more informal basis. (Now aren’t you glad you come to church, to find out interesting facts like that?) Apparently, the beer-and-pretzels barons have known for a long time that bowling league members buy more refreshments than casual bowlers — so they knew they were face to face with a serious problem. So, they expanded their study. The further study identified a much larger trend affecting American society: a general tendency not to affiliate with groups of any kind. We’re such individualists. Too individualistic for our own individual good a lot of the time! The common good This is
so different from the spiritual gifts Paul speaks of in There’s an old story about a man who walked into a church that was under construction. He went up to one of the workers and asked, “What are you doing?” “I’m sawing a board,” the man replied. He strolled up to a second worker and asked him what he was doing. “I’m building a pew,” was his answer. Then the visitor walked over to a third worker and asked him the very same question. “I’m building a cathedral to the glory of God!” he replied. Now there’s a man who understands how his work contributes to the common good! What about that gift or talent you have? Your knack for organizing ... your singing voice ... your head for figures ... your skill with a hammer ... your understanding of computers ... your listening ear? That special way you have of putting together a meal ... mediating a disagreement ... filling out a tax return ... comforting a child? God gives us gifts — but there’s a string attached: The gift is “for the common good.” Yes, we can take pleasure in the gift. Yes, we can enjoy it. Yes, we can even feel proud we have it. Yet, at the end of the day — that great, long day that is our lives — God’s going to ask us to provide a reckoning. Those gifts of ours, how did we use them? For the benefit of ourselves alone? Or for the good of the larger community? We will be judged, then, not on the gifts we’ve taken to the grave, but on the gifts we’ve given away! The great giveaway The world, my friends, is one great giveaway. The Lord has given us everything we have, and everything we are. Stand on a mountaintop; look around. Everything, as far as the eye can see, is God’s gift. You can take a little piece of that creation, slap a sign on it and say, “It’s mine,” but it’s not. You can pretend it’s yours, but really, it belongs to God. Always has. Always will. It all belongs to God. God’s gifts, you see, always and forever have strings attached. Yet, they’re not the sort of strings that can be used to yank the gift back again. Rather, they connect us to one another, in community — and to God. All this is the work of the Holy Spirit. We call these things “gifts of the Spirit,” which means we can never open such a gift without being changed within. |
||
