Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and God will say, “Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.”
ISAIAH 58:1-12
The invitation on Ash Wednesday includes this reading from Isaiah 58, with God saying : “Is this not the fast I choose: to share your bread with the hungry, to loose the bond of injustice, to satisfy the needs of the afflicted.
The “fasting” we are called to, therefore, is not acts of self-denial, but practical help to those in need. And this is not just charity to offer food to the hungry, although that is part of it, but to address oppressive structures: to “undo the thongs of the yoke.”
There are challenges in Isaiah 58 that make me take a deep breath or wince!
“To bring the homeless poor into your house.” This feels way too intimate and dangerous; “not to hide yourself from your own kin” — not to avoid the suffering of those close to us; those for whom we have responsibility, our relatives, even the ones we want to avoid.
There is a call here for hands on, relational action; meeting people where they are in their suffering. Too often alms giving is one step removed from the people who are hurting; pressing a donation button. Yes, we are called to be generous and it is super important for our spiritual lives, our relationship to God, for us to give from our abundance to meet the needs of the marginalized and disenfranchised.
But I rankle at bringing the homeless poor into your house! I listen to that feeling to sort out what God is calling me to do. Impractical, risky, unwise,….yes, but even if I say this isn’t to be taken literally, how do I respond to this challenge that asks me to involved at a personal level? To walk into the messiness and commitment of relationships, and to offer something of myself in meaningful hospitality. Invite them into a coffee shop and buy them lunch and sit down with them. How do I get to know people who have been failed by the system, for whatever reason, mental illness, abuse, trauma, addiction as a symptom (not a cause) of their woundedness…
How do we build a Lenten practice of face-to-face service in our impersonal and isolating world? Rowan William’s book “Being Disciples” asks us to hang around the people Jesus would hang around with: street workers, beggars, refugees, strangers, those who are despised by our society. We often remove ourselves in fear, embarrassment, guilt, helplessness, overwhelm…. Take a deep breath and boldly go where Jesus already is.
What if our Lenten practice was to not only be ready to hand out an orange or a granola bar to the person begging on the street but to look them in the eye, sit down beside them, ask them what they need; listen to them, listen to their story, their lament about all that isn’t working. Treat them as beloved of God, a human being with dignity and worth. Risky. And this is where we meet Christ!
Yours’s in Christ
+Lynne
P.S. You who are caregivers to a loved one who suffers with dementia, chronic disease…you are already following this demanding discipleship – you don’t need to add another such practice. You probably need some respite!
