(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on September 24, 2017, Proper 20)
Grumbling at Seafood
The year was 2004. My family and I were in the Swiss
Alps. For Christmas. We lodged for several nights in a
quaint little chalet, surrounded by mountains and snow. We were quite literally living a
dream.
Our first night at the chalet, we
entered the dining room with anticipation. We had heard that there would be no menu. We would be eating whatever the chef
prepared. It was almost like a
culinary Christmas gift. We had no
idea what we would be eating, but we could hardly wait to find out.
We found out soon enough. Fish. When the waiter set it ceremoniously on the table, we all
smiled nervously. No one wanted to
say anything. Not right away. But as soon as the waiter left, we gave
a collective grumble.
Growing up, the closest I had
ever gotten to seafood was popcorn shrimp. Anything else was avoided, mainly because my mom is severely
allergic to most finfish. Better
safe than sorry was my family’s seafood policy.
The truth is, except for my mom,
we could have eaten that fish in the Swiss chalet. But we didn’t like fish. We never ate it.
So when the waiter returned, our collective grumble became a collective
half-lie. We sadly informed him
that we were allergic to seafood.
Perhaps they had something else on the menu?
I imagine that the cooks were the
next to grumble as their gourmet fish was returned to the kitchen and they
heated up its bland replacement: chicken tenders and fries.
Grumbling as a Faith Disorder
Our two scriptures today are full
of grumbling (Ex 16:2-15; Matt 20:1-16).
Just as my family grumbled at the fish, so the Israelites “grumble” at
the uncertainty of their next meal (16:2, 7-8, 12), and so the early workers
“grumble” at their wages (20:11), which are no better than the wages of the
late workers. The irony in each
story, is that no one is grumbling at a hardship.
My family grumbled at the
prospect of an unfavorable dish, but that fish would have nourished us and
given us life. The Israelites
grumbled at the uncertainty of wandering through the wilderness, but for the first
time in their existence they were free
to live their own lives. The early
workers grumbled about their paycheck, but the truth is that they were paid a
day’s wage, enough to put food on the table, a shirt on their back, and hope in
their hearts—enough for a good life.
In each story, the disgruntled
grumble not at hardship but at the gift of life: daily bread, freedom, a
livelihood.
According to these three stories,
then, grumbling is more than a rumble at the back of our throats, more than a
momentary expression of frustration.
Grumbling is a faith disorder.
It is a spiritual blindness to the gift of life. A grumbling spirit could not see a gift
if it were right in front of its eyes.
Why? Because a grumbling
spirit reduces life to a market of exchange. It only understands this-for-that, payment and purchase.
When my family sat down in the
chalet dining room, we grumbled because fish—something we did not like—was not
a fair exchange for our night’s expense.
When the Israelites wandered into freedom, they grumbled and became
nostalgic for their slavery.
Why? Because in Egypt, they
did not have to live in day-to-day uncertainty. In Egypt, they had been guaranteed an exchange: meat and
bread for their labor. When the
workers clocked out with the manager of the vineyard, they grumbled because
they expected an exchange proportionate to their labor. If those who had only worked one hour received
one silver coin, then how many more should they receive who worked nine hours?
The Gift of Seafood
After that night in Switzerland,
my palate took a curious journey.
Seven years later, I went to study in England. My first year there, I lived in a flat with 7 other
international students. One of my
flat-mates, Fran, was from Barcelona, and he loved seafood. It was
only a matter of time before he had cooked a dish to share. Paella—with mussels and clams and
prawns and tuna.
How proud he was to share this
hometown favorite with me! It was
a gift. How could I say no?
So I ate it. At first, every bite was a hard
swallow. But gradually I came to
appreciate some of the flavors. I won’t say I loved the dish. What I remember most is not how it
tasted. What I remember most is
how happy Fran was. Paella will
forever remind me of his excited eyes as I took my first bite, his laughter as
I gave it my cautious approval.
It wasn’t long before my palate set
sail again for another seafood adventure.
In the culinary world, England is practically synonymous with fish and
chips. For many Brits, a life
without fish and chips would be no life at all. It would have been inexcusable for me to live there and not
eat fish and chips. So I did. Over my next four years, I ended up
visiting more chippies than I can count.
And now I can honestly say that, sometimes, I enjoy fish. It will never be a favorite for
taste. But it will always remind
me of my life there—the friends with whom I ate and the places we went—all of
which were, I think, a gift.
In the grand scheme of things,
the journey of my palate is pretty trivial. I understand that.
But I cannot help feeling a certain truth in this experience. First, seafood was the object of my
grumbling. Years later, it was a
gift. Life was all the more
abundant when I received it as a gift.
I hardly remember the chicken tenders and fries of Switzerland. But Fran’s paella and all the chippies
I visited, I will never forget.
They filled me with new life.
Life Is a Gift—Every Day
In both of today’s scriptures,
God responds to the grumbling of the people. And in each response, there is a common theme. In the wilderness, God promises Moses
that the people will have their daily
bread: “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day” (Ex 16:4). In the kingdom parable that Jesus
tells, the landowner reminds the workers that, whatever their complaints, they
have received their “usual daily wage”
(Matt 20:13).
This, then, is how God responds
to grumbling: “Look at me,” God says.
“Don’t look at the past.
Don’t look at others. Look
at me. I am giving you life
today.”
In other words, life is a
gift. Every day. There is a revolutionary seed in the parable
that Jesus tells. On the surface,
this is a story about workers and wages.
It is a story of this for that.
Labor for money. And yet at
the end of the story, the landowner explodes the idea that he was ever giving
wages: “I choose to give to this last
the same as I give to you” (Matt
20:14). The landowner’s
money is not a fair wage. Contrary
to all appearances, this is not a story of workers and wages. This is a story about a gift.
In the kingdom of God, life is
not earned or bartered. Life is a
gift. Every day.
A Remedy to Grumbling: Gratitude
Both of today’s stories showcase
the faith disorder of grumbling.
Both stories diagnose the people’s blindness to God’s gift of life. But neither story offers a remedy.
There is, however, a hint in
today’s psalm, which begins: “O give thanks to the Lord.”
Gratitude. Paul takes this one to the extreme when
he says, “Give thanks at all times” (cf. 1 Thes 5:18; Eph 5:20).
Whereas grumbling is blind to life, and does nothing to
encourage it, gratitude is daily on the quest for life, whatever tender stem or
tiny root of life it can find.
Gratitude is the fertilizer of life. It looks upon life as the gift of God, and welcomes it with
open hands, rather than turning it away with a grumbling heart.
“It is only with gratitude that
life becomes rich.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote those words in a Nazi
prison. He would die within two
years. That is not fair. But it did not stop Bonhoeffer from
giving thanks anyway—celebrating the life that he had found anyway. And today Bonhoeffer’s words continue
to nourish many readers, myself included, encouraging us to seek out and
celebrate life. Because of his
gratitude, there is more life on this earth.
Perhaps one day, the same might
be said of us.
Prayer
God who gives life
In the wilderness,
In our work,
In what does not always fit
Our idea of a fair exchange—
Heal us of our grumbling,
And draw us into a gratitude
That fertilizes your gift of
life.
In the name of him
Who saw your gift in all
creation, Jesus Christ. Amen.
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