This is Maundy Thursday and I've been invited by our local state Senator to receive two Easter Hams in thanksgiving for the ministry we offer to the hungry in our community. I intend, of course, to give them away.
Ham is not kosher. Why do Christians eat hams on Easter? is it a snub, in-your-face, gesture to our Jewish cousins? Do we intend to offend, to break kosher laws as a sign that we are not Jews. We'd do better to eat lamb. But we will eat ham. I am not a ham lover, although I have become a huge fan of ham loaf---a delicacy native to Lancaster county, I guess. I'd never had ham loaf gromwing up, never even heard of it. Sort of like pig stomach, scrapple, whoopie pies, shoofly pie, chicken pot pie, and chicken and waffles. Waffles are breakfast food where I come from, topped with butter and syrup. Not chicken. I have learned to adapt to this culture, where horse drawn buggies travel on busy highways. But it hasn't been easy. There is a sense here that an outsider is always an outsider. I think this is changing generationally. Especially as this homogeneous community is infiltrated by people of other races and ethnicities. Nevertheless, I am not native to Lancaster County. Muy children are, though. I wonder what that may mean as they grow up, if we remain here during their childhood years. Will they adopt some of the ways of thinking inherent in the culture here? Or will they adopt the cultural ways that we bring? I realize that second generation immigrants often speak the language of the surrounding culture as fluently as their native language. But their parents are rarely as ocnversant in the adopted culture. Will the same be true of my kids? Some of you might think that we have moved from the U.S. to Tanzania, with all of this talk about cross-cultural immersion. But such is the case for us. Even though my wife is native to central PA and I have lived in central PA for around 12 years, we feel like strangers in a strange land. We feel like sojourners, nomads, refugees sometimes. On certain matters we realize we must defer to local folk ways.
There is much to love about Lititz. The beautiful park, downtown, the neighborhoods, easy access to everything and evreywhere. We're less than five hours from five major east coast cities! But I wonder, are we settlers or pilgrims? Are we farmers or shepherds? Are we owners or renters?
In Holy Week, I am thinking about the brevity of life. And about place with respect to that. I am here. here I am. I am not in Chicago or NY or London or Baghdad or Jerusalem. I am here. Now. What am I called to here and now? or maybe to whom am I called? Jesus and I are about the same age now, I guess. If he is risen and continues to live a crucified/resurected life with GOD, does Jesus have an age? Or does he now transcend the limits of how we mark time? That's speculative thought. But I am pondering this week what it means to fulfill one's purposes in life. In his mid-thirties, Jesus was crucified. And that death someone sets to rights, justifies the world's What does it mean to die? And what does it mean to submit one's life to the will of God by faith? God used me to give away two Easter hams, making two families happy this holiday. For that reason, I am here. Today. But tomorrow is unknown. And tonight is a night of remembering and doing what is most difficult with one's life. Loving others by serving and suffering without regard for one's self. Whether we are wasking each other's piggy toes, as Jesus demonstrates, or giving away Easter hams, the thought is the same: What we have, who we are, where we live, all of this is the work of GOD. Given that reality, why aren't we more content?
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