This morning offered one of those remarkable glimpses of God— the kind that you could never plan. In fact, more planning might have obscured the gift entirely. Some weeks ago, we began a mission with our next door church neighbors to work toward providing Thanksgiving boxes for those in our community who might otherwise not share in the blessings of this holiday. We do this in the midst of realizing— via Sacred Ground —that the holiday we have long cherished brings only heartache and generational bitterness for others who share this planet. But sharing love still seems the right thing to do, even as we are learning truths we were never taught.
Our church is historically very white; our neighbors are historically black. Only a narrow ten foot alley separates us; it is way past time we got to know each other better. Last year, even in the pandemic, we shared a Second Harvest give-away. They had arranged it, and we offered our parking lot. It was a wonderful first encounter.
Our work was complicated at the beginning, not so much by disorganization, as by not having enough food to organize. Once a few of us made a shopping foray, we whipped the boxes into shape and stowed them in the parlor until next weekend.
But it was never about the boxes. It was about us, and the way we engaged one another. There was joy, and laughter, and a deeply shared sense of the Holy. Ted, a remarkable lay minister of our neighboring church, spent time with so many of our folks, one on one. At one point, he looked at me, the sheen in his eyes perceptible. “We have everything in this room that we need to solve the problems of the world. Information will never do it. Only Love can fix this.” He was right. The room was filled with followers of Jesus; they were kind, deferential, lifting each other up, and working toward a common purpose for the benefit of others. In short: it was all about love.
I hope we have begun a long friendship with exactly that in mind.
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