Sunday, July 16 - Hungry

This sermon was preached for Sunday, July 16 at St. Mark's Episcopal Church. The texts for this sermon were: Genesis 25:19-34, Psalm 119:105-112, and Matthew 13:1-9,18-23.

Back in 2010 and 2011, Snickers ran an award-winning series of ads featuring celebrities in silly situations. In the most famous ad, a bunch of young guys are all playing tackle football in a muddy park. In the midst of them is an 88 year old Betty White, getting tackled left and right, fumbling the ball all over the place. The guys give her a hard time in the huddle until her girlfriend comes over and hands her a Snickers bar. With one bite, Betty White transforms into an athletic young guy like the rest and feels much better. The ad ends with the tagline, “You aren’t you when you’re hungry.” As someone who lives in a house with a toddler, a baby, and a husband who all have a tendency to become quite irritable when hungry, I can attest to the truth of that tagline. 

Betty White's Snickers Ad, 2010

So can Esau. We get a lot of introduction to the characters in Genesis here - the whole background explanation into the sibling rivalry between Isaac and Rachel’s twins, Esau and Jacob. But the crux of the story here is basically that Jacob takes advantage of a desperately hungry Esau and tricks him into signing over his inheritance to his younger brother. What’s funny about the story is that it’s heavily implied that Esau isn’t actually about to die from hunger as he claims. He just feels like he is. 

Esau’s overreaction to his hunger is a pretty classic example of catastrophizing - imagining that this current moment’s discomfort is forever, unable to see anything but the worst possible outcomes ahead. Turns out both organizations and individuals can be susceptible to catastrophizing in times of uncertainty and change. And like Esau, we, too, can be fooled into decisions that sacrifice our identity or our future in exchange for temporary relief from fear. 

If the stories of Genesis are all about faith, about trusting in God’s promises even when it all seems lost, then Esau’s foolish decision to trade his birthright for a cup of soup fits as a cautionary tale. Let the anxiety of today overwhelm you and you might end up giving away your future.

If I were to name a story from scripture that’s the opposite of Esau and the red stuff, it’d probably be a bit of Elijah the prophet’s tale. Elijah’s just as dramatic as Esau. When Elijah runs away into the desert in the Book of Kings, he flings himself under a bush and prays to God to die, “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” In response, God sends an angel who taps him on the shoulder and reminds him to take a nap, have a snack, and drink some water. Elijah does so and feels a lot better - strong enough to journey to the mountain where in the midst of the wind, the earthquake, and the fire, Elijah can hear the still, small voice of God. 

There’s this raccoon cartoon floating around the internet that I think about a lot. It says, “When you feel like everyone hates you, sleep. When you feel like you hate everyone, eat. When you feel like you hate yourself, take a shower.” It’s a simple reminder that taking care of your body and its needs is actually an important part of this business of loving God and your neighbor. You’re not you when you are hungry. Compassion, mercy, faith, trust, all those good virtues are a heck of a lot harder. 

It seems obvious and yet think of how often we construe faith as an act of will, a noble determination to rise above our physical and earthly circumstances. In doing so, we can discount the straightforward importance of snacks and naps and water to faith. 

When you feel like you’re in a spiritual crisis, before you give in to all the worst possible scenarios your heart can muster up, I wonder what the equivalent of a snack, a nap, and a glass of water might be for your soul. Perhaps a deep breath, a simple prayer, or just showing up to church. I wonder what the collective equivalent might be for a parish community. Eating homemade meatballs, sharing stories of our founders, singing our favorite songs?

None of those things will fix everything that’s going wrong. But perhaps it’s about giving and receiving just enough in this moment that we can once again see bright possibilities ahead of us. 

You’re not you when you are hungry, and these challenges you are facing? Maybe they are a catastrophe and maybe they’re not. Whatever they are, enduring them, overcoming them will require remembering who you are, what you are capable of, and the inheritance God has promised you. 

I am grateful to the people in my life who’ve been there for me in moments when it really felt like my world was ending. Let me tell you what’s not so helpful in those times: being told to calm down or that I’m overreacting or even being told that it’ll all be okay if I just have a little faith. Here’s what’s actually helpful in the moment: bringing me a piece of chocolate, wrapping me in a hug, or steering me out of the house and into the fresh air. Giving me just enough to return me to myself so that I can see the problems ahead of me with clarity, so that I can once again be grounded in faith I need to face them. 

Reflecting on Esau’s story this week made me see Jesus’ parable of the sower in a new light. The yield of the harvest is all about the conditions of the soil in which the seeds are sown. Now here’s the thing - what if the sower doesn’t come by just once? What if seeds of Good News are continually being sown again and again all throughout our lives? What if we get more than one chance to build up good soil so that whenever God’s goodness comes by we can let it sink in far enough to set down deep roots - the kind of deep roots that can weather the storms that blow through?  

Listen, I would not be here in robes and a stole today if it had not been for so many others who took time to help me clear away so many of my obstacles to faith. So what if it’s not just about tending to our tiny patch of soil? What if, when we see those seeds over on the path being snatched up by birds, we also have a responsibility to put up some scarecrows? What if, when we see tiny stalks getting choked by thorns, we gather up a team of volunteers and get busy weeding?

See, good soil doesn’t just happen. Good soil takes tending to simple individual and communal needs. Needs like rest, and nourishment, and the collective retelling of stories of past hard times endured.

Thieving birds and scorching sun and choking thorns will come - refrigerators and elevators break - marriages end and businesses fail - we all get hungry and overwhelmed and anxious. The question is not how we avoid or ignore temporary pain. The question is whether we let this afternoon’s hunger trick us out of our inheritance. The question is whether we’ve built up a strong enough community and deep enough roots to stay true to who God is calling us to be.