To Be of Use

I was a third-grade Brownie dropout.

Inspired by an old Girl Scout handbook, desirous of winning a sashful of merit badges and performing feats of outdoor derring-do, I harrassed my parents until they allowed me to join the local Brownie troop. But -- alas -- there were no merit badges. There was no outdoor derring-do. Because I had the bad luck to join the lamest Brownie troop ever. Once a month we met in the elementary school gym, sat in a circle, sang "Whene'er You Make a Promise" -- and that was it. Our leaders acted as if they'd walked into the wrong afterschool program by mistake("You mean this isn't study hall?"?)...but then, much to my dismay, they kept coming back. I felt cheated; I wanted something to do. Four months later, I was out of there.

Many years later I started a new job. Upon arrival at the office on my first day of work, in that state of dazed confusion common to new employees, I was informed that there wasn't enough office space for me there, so I would have to go over to a satellite office across town. I was handed a large cardboard box containing a jumble of my predecessor's files and told to "look through them." When I asked what my first assignment was, my supervisor couldn't tell me. "Just -- look through the files and see what the other person has been working on," my boss kept murmuring. After several days of this -- asking for direction, getting evasive answers, paging through the files as directed and learning absolutely nothing from them -- it became quite clear to me that no one knew what I was supposed to be doing, including my boss and including my predecessor. In the long run, this proved to be advantageous for me because I wound up more or less writing my own job description. But it was a pretty surreal, "Ground Control to Major Tom?" experience. And, until I was able to earn my chops in that organization by carrying out successful projects of my own, I felt pretty devalued both as an employee and as a person: Who am I and why am I here?

In this Sunday's Gospel lesson , we find a Jesus who gives his disciples -- people who, in this story, are just barely past the "Hello, My Name Is _______" stage of their relationship -- a clear idea of who they are and why they're here. First of all, Jesus empowers them; gives them the authority to do things in his name. Next, he gives them a series of tasks: To proclaim the in-breaking of the Reign of God; to teach people what that is going to look like; to bring wholeness to their physical, mental and spiritual brokenness. Later in the Christian story, Paul calls this work the ministry of reconciliation.

A Native American elder from the Southwest was once asked by an anthropologist why his community was so accepting of those who differed from the norm. He responded, "In our tribe, we can't afford to waste people." Likewise, in the Reign of God, Christ wastes no one. We are all called to ministry. Some of us might still be wandering around in confusion, wondering how exactly we got here and if we're really in the right place...doesn't matter. "Get to work." And as we can see just by looking around in our own immediate circles and communities, let alone the world at large, there's work a-plenty in the reconciliation business.

Sure, this work needs to be done. But I think God knows that we need the work. God's gift of grace is like a Russian nesting doll with innumerable smaller gifts resting inside it; those gifts include the privilege and dignity inherent in our calling as Christians to be Christ's hands in the world. The world often makes us feel like nobodies; God, on the other hand, makes us somebodies, beloved members of the household of God and workers in God's inbreaking Reign. To be of use for God; how great a gift is that?

I, the Lord of earth and sky
I have heard my people cry
All who dwell in deepest sin
my hand will save.
I, who made the stars of night,
I will make their darkness bright
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send? (Chorus)

I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my people's pain
I have wept for love of them.
They turn away.
I will break their hearts of stone,
give them hearts for love alone,
I will speak my word to them,
Whom shall I send? (Chorus)

I, the Lord of wind and flame,
I will tend the poor and lame,
I will set a feast for them.
My hand will save.
Finest bread will I provide
till their hearts be satisfied.
I will give my life to them.
Whom shall I send? (Chorus)

Chorus

Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

"Here I Am, Lord," text by Daniel Schutte; music by Daniel Schutte, Michael Pope, SJ and John Weissrock


The Harvest Moon by George Mason