Isaiah 50:6
6 I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting.
There's an old saying: "Beware the nice ones." I was raised to be kind and unfailingly polite and patient, and I was conditioned to endure a lot. But inside, there's a temper. Past a certain dreadful point, I can make Yosemite Sam look like Mister Rogers. I'm not sure where that came from - or, for that matter, my related ability to hold a grudge. For instance, the kid who beat me up on the school bus in fifth grade. The department chair who fired me from my first teaching job. Jim Leyritz for hitting the home run that swung the momentum of the 1996 World Series toward the Yankees. Those are just a few examples from over the years.
There's a righteous fury that comes with a grudge: you're the victim on a heroic quest to right the scales. But it's also addictive, and it’s a narcotic that blinds you to the other person's very real humanity - that makes you forget that they, too, are a child of God. Some time ago I started to feel that the older I get, the less flattering a grudge is. It's a weight that holds you down. The anger eats on itself and leaves you empty inside. At some point, you start to think: well, middle-school kids sometimes engage their fists before their brains. If that boss hadn't fired me, I wouldn't be in this job that I (mostly) enjoy. And no matter who won that World Series, I still had to go to work the next day. Worse still, a grudge doesn't do anything to the people you're angry with, but it eats away at you. It becomes a perpetual-motion machine that serves no purpose except justifying the forgotten reason it keeps running.
There's also a secret: reconciliation can be awfully sweet, much more satisfying than revenge ever could be. A few years ago I got sideways with somebody over something, and I bore that grudge for a long time. Then, one day, I found a note, and not long after, we met up. I can't describe how it felt to let that go, to embrace one another, sit across the table and share a meal and tell stories and be happy to be in each other's company again. Reconciliation is incredible. When I think of that person now, the place that once held my anger is...well, now there's light. It's an incredible feeling. It's surprising: I can be quick to anger, and yet I can be just as quick to embrace someone once that anger's gone.
It makes me think: some people give things up for Lent. Some people give up ice cream; others give up coffee or movies or social media. (I've sometimes said that I was giving up Lent for Lent.) Wouldn't it be splendid, though, if for Lent we tried giving up a grudge that we're carrying? I wouldn't be surprised if by the time Lent was over, we'd have forgotten why we were carrying that grudge. And, maybe, we might have found out that the good feeling from letting go of that grudge was a lot more satisfying than that anger ever could be.
Give it a try and see what happens. Maybe it can cool down the Yosemite Sam in all of us, and the world might get just a little bit better.
Lord, help us remember that you call us to reconcile because you call us to love one another. Help us to heal our hearts, especially the part of us that wants to hang on to anger long after we’ve forgotten why we were angry to begin with, and help us all to remember that we are all children of God. In Your name, amen.
- Jodie Peeler, Professor of Communications
Now therefore revere the LORD, and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD. Now if you are unwilling to serve the LORD, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD (Joshua 24:14-15, NRSV).
Standing at the edge of the promised land, ready to see the fulfillment of God’s promises to their ancestor Abraham, these words describe the promise the people of Israel made in their covenant renewal ceremony at Shechem at the end of the book of Joshua. All is well with the world and they are ready to enter the land and forge ahead with a new community, a new place to live, and a new religion.
This covenant consists of laws set forth in the books of Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy. It is interesting that many of these laws are about serving God through service to other human beings, especially the poor and marginalized (see Exod22:22-24, Exod 23:10-11, Lev 23:22, Lev 25:35-36, Deut 14:28-29, Deut 15:7-11). So, by renewing their oath to “serve the LORD,” the Israelites are in fact making a promise to serve the poor, the “orphan and widow,” and the people who stand on the margins of society. Service to the neighbor is woven into the very fabric of God’s relationship with humanity. [NOTE: Many of these laws are reiterated in the New Testament and you can see them at a glance here.]
I have always considered myself to be a servant leader.Some of my favorite trips as both a youth in church and a pastor were service-related - working with food banks, Habitat for Humanity, advocacy groups, high school and college students, leading Bible studies for kids at church camp, and faculty/staff beautification projects at Newberry College. When my children were young, we picked up trash in the park, we helped flood victims during Hurricane Matthew, we cleaned up the Palmetto Trail, and we did service projects at camp. These experiences helped form my faith and my approach to ministry and leadership.
When I think about what it means to serve the Lord, I think about serving other human beings. I think about ways in which I can work to make others’ lives better, to help provide access to opportunities, to give hope. The season of Lent is all about reminders of what it means to be human. We are sinful and we will die, yes. But we also were created to be in community with one another, to help each other, to serve one another, to love, to hope, to care. What can you do during Lent (and all other seasons) to serve your neighbor?
Let us pray . . . God of compassion, help us to see the face of Christ in all of humanity, and in serving them, serve you. Help us to be witnesses to your love and guide us by your Spirit to affirm the dignity of all people. Amen.
Rev. Dr. Christy Wendland, Ph.D.
Associate Vice President for Academic Affairs
Associate Professor of Religion
