A friend of mine once served as the associate pastor of a large suburban congregation. She was early in the first appointment of her pastorate, and compared to the more seasoned and restrained senior minister, she was more outspoken, more direct, more forthright in her sense of God’s way of justice and peace in the world.

I was lucky to gather together with her and a group of other young clergy, once a month, in our first years of ministry. Over that time, I heard a repeated complaint from her – that the congregants of that church seemed to be employing her to serve as their collective conscience, as if the oil which filled her lamp and provided light to others would be a sufficient stand-in for any deficit of oil in theirs: Paying for good works rather than doing the work themselves.

And they had good reason. Making offerings and tithes to the church, supporting the vocation of this pastor, was the congregants’ way of following the famous words recorded in the Book of Micah: to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God (6:8). They were seeking justice by paying for justice to be done. But my friend worried that her parishioners were substituting her faithfulness for their own.

She worried that they were living vicariously through her, rather than living abundantly themselves. Rather than risking their own emotional entanglement in the needs of others, rather than confronting the possibility of giving up their comfortable lifestyles, they were satisfied with hearing stories from her about her trips to Haiti, her relationships with undocumented immigrants, her embrace of people who were poor.

They might have reasoned, if pushed, that their faith was not as big as that of their pastor. They might have argued that God gave them only a single helping of courage, just one ounce of hope, just a precious oil lamp and not very much oil, certainly not nearly enough to face the harshness of life and the cruelty of people. They might have settled for their assessment that they didn’t have the strength, the power, to carry extra oil for when the night stretched longer than expected. They might have resigned themselves to their way of being, rather than investigate the brave way of living that their pastor chose – day after day.  

Have you ever felt like that? Have you ever thought that your life, your actions, your words, your heartfelt compassion would not mean much in the long run? Have you ever downplayed your part in God’s kingdom? Have you ever looked around and decided it was other people who had the power to make changes which affected you?

Why? Were you scared? Were you running away from what God was calling you to? Or were you worried you’d crumble under the weight of the world? 

Maybe, you can think back to a moment when, like the frightened servant, you were tempted to bury what gifts and graces God has given you, to hide them away in the ground, in order to preserve your own wellbeing, to avoid the uncertainties of the changing seasons, and so, also, to be unprepared for the difficulties, which arise when we least expect them. Maybe, out of fear, you hid what God gave you.

And maybe, you forgot that God trusted you with the “oil lamp” you have, the power you possess to make the night a little brighter, the world a little brighter. Maybe, you forgot that God believes in you, believes that you have within you everything you need – to care for others, to grow in mercy, to persevere in seeking wellbeing of your neighbor and of yourself.

The road to treating others kindly is long. But we have guidance for how to walk it. A bishop in the Episcopal Church shared nine ways you and I can bring healing and wholeness to the world around us. I quote him here:

1. Pray for the nation…
2. Be kind in speech and action…
3. Grant Jesus’ request to ‘pray for enemies and bless those that curse you.’
4. Use your [voice and example] only for positive, non-aggressive, encouraging and constructive purposes.
5. Refuse to pass along information as truth that does not bear the marks of good scholarship and fairness.
6. Reflect on and relinquish your need to feel and behave as superior to other members of the American family.
7. Schedule a conversation with a family member or a co-worker who sees the world differently and be curious rather than defensive or combative.
8. Accept responsibility for making the country and the world better, kinder, healthier, safer, cleaner, and more just.
9. … [and] Bring equity to others.[i]

It’s a long list. Just choose one thing to do. You might wonder why the Bishop, and why I, would propose a list of kindness which specifically deals with questions of truth, superiority, and differing perspectives. It is because, this week, the country saw the third debate of one party preparing for its primary election for candidates to office. We will soon be living in an election year. But to be honest I feel like we’ve been in a continuous election cycle for the past two decades.

How do you hold together people who lose sight of truth, of God, of kindness, of listening to one another, of cooperation and compromise? One writer framed for me the work before us as Christians in a divided culture. He suggests:

We the people of the United States do not have a single national soul, but rather two souls, warring with each other … The battle for the soul of America is actually the battle between the souls of America … the division is not between people … It’s not between who the people are, but what the people are being—the outcome of our being (emphasis mine).[ii]

People seem to be at odds with each other over our being. Our being is another way of saying our life, our soul. The Hebrew words for soul —nephesh and neshama— share the root for the word “to breathe.” Grounded in the creation of humanity by God, our souls literally are what is breathed into us as life itself. “The Lord God formed the human (the groundling) from the dust of the ground (the hummus) and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the human (the groundling) became a living being” (Genesis 2:7).

Like God, we create, too. We make things. We make food and warm gestures of love and care. We make repairs. We make crafts to support good causes. We make organizations, congregations, companies, and countries. We make families and communities. We make structures which will outlast ourselves.

And, like God, we give them life. But instead of God’s breath, they bear our fingerprints, our character, our principles and ideals. And nations? What breath do they give?

There is a whole world that is growing and changing, leaves falling, seasons blowing by, movements forming and coming apart. There is a whole world of people who need to be inspired to walk with God in their lives – the whole of their lives – not just Sunday mornings, not just in their thoughts and prayers, not just with the people they like, but in everything, to follow after the way of Christ. And it’s up to you, Christian, child of God, groundling who has been given the breath of life, it is up to you to help inspire them – inspire, to give them breath as well. 

Whether you have been carrying extra oil your whole life long, or you have only recently found the strength to bring what faith you need into the struggles of the long night, either way, you have been given a gift from God. It is a gift to work for illumination of the world – for kindness, for knowledge, knowledge of oneself and of one’s neighbor, knowledge of the terrain, of the ground from which we come. And that illumination, which brings knowledge, also brings our connection to each other, to ourselves, and to our Creator, the one who gave us breath and grace and life and hope and love, love for this world – love for your neighbors, love for everything you come across.

You have been given a gift, and it will not do for you to ignore your part in God’s kingdom. If you do nothing, if you leave your extra oil being, you let the night prevail with its dark hours and disconnection of you from those you love, and you will find yourself alone.

Don’t wait until the One who gives breath and being to us all returns in the night, and the celebration begins. Don’t hesitate to carry extra oil to bring light to the world and work for the wellbeing of others. Don’t wait until you feel as capable as someone else who is carrying extra oil with her for the long night. Don’t leave behind your lamp oil, your strength, your conviction, where it will be of no use to anyone. 

Don’t forget that God trusted you with the oil lamp that you have. Don’t forget that God believes in you. Don’t forget that you have within you all the gifts you need – to care for others, to grow in mercy, to persevere in kindness, even as the hours drag on.  Don’t forget, because people are counting on you.

Will you carry extra lamp oil into the night, into the hard times, and will you light the way around you so that others can see the world better? And will you forever leave behind the loneliness of darkness with no light lit? And will you remain close to those who come to you because of your light, those whose lives will slowly turn for the better, those who would like to go with you to a place of peace and celebration, rejoicing and reunion?

Will you? I pray you will.

And I invite your response.

Amen.

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[i] Bishop Rob Wright, “9 Things You Can Do to Heal the Nation” November 12, 2020, for The Diocese of Atlanta, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3aGUXlEE_A

[ii] Ibram X. Kendi, “A Battle Between the Two Souls of America,” in The Atlantic, November 11, 2020, https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/11/americas-two-souls/617062/