Cups of cold water

Who are you working for?  When you’re making decisions, especially if it’s a decision that might upset someone else, whose interest do you prioritize?  And then what’s the reward for the decision you do make?  What’s in it for you? 

I’ve heard Paul’s words a lot of times—“the wages of sin is death”—but it didn’t make any sense to me, until I noticed it next to the word “fruit.”  I realize that doesn’t make any sense either; let me explain. 

For those of us living in a city—not a farm, not an orchard—we are mostly familiar with fruit because we find it in the grocery store or the farmer’s market or whatever.  And even though we know in some abstract way that the fruit came from some tree somewhere, we are not familiar with the process it takes to grow fruit.  The time and energy of burying seeds into soil until tiny plants spring up and take root and over years growing solid trunks and strong branches and finally leaves and flowers that bloom into fruits, which must be nurtured and watered and defended from pests like insects and small animals. 

It might take years for a seed to produce fruit, and there are a lot of influences at work: sun and rain and cold weather, soil, with human intervention at many steps along the way.  We might see the good fruit piled up in the grocery store; we probably don’t think about the stuff we’ll never see, like the rotten fruit that was thrown out along the way, the tiny buds that died after a late frost, or the trees that just never blossomed. 

But did you ever grow your own fruit?  A tree in your yard, a vine in your flowerbed, maybe a pot on your porch.  Maybe it wasn’t an orchard, just a single peach tree or pecan tree or tomato vine by itself, and how much work was it to coax fruit out of that vine?  How sweet did that fruit taste when it finally came time to harvest?  Or did you harvest your fruit too soon because you were determined to eat it before the squirrels did?  Oh well. 

Fruit is the end product of a lot of work, the fruit of your labors.  When the apostle Paul is talking about fruit, he’s talking about the end result of a bunch of little decisions that you’ll make every day—are you serving God and nurturing the fruit of righteousness?  Or are you serving sinfulness, and the only rotten fruit you’ll get from that is death?  If you’re serving sin, the hourly wages you’ll get paid for all your work is death. 

When sin is the boss you are working for, I imagine the kind of death that happens as a result is probably the kind of death that you feel when you wonder what you’re working so hard for.  It’s probably the death you feel when you’re exhausted and unhappy and still questioning what’s the point.  In this case, death doesn’t mean “game over.”  It probably means: it’s time to start working for somebody else. 

Along comes Jesus with perhaps the worst corporate strategy in history: give away good news of God’s kingdom FOR FREE, extract NO royalties from the proliferation of this news, don’t even establish a supply chain or franchise agreement, barely train your associates to spread this news, just give them authority over unclean spirits and ability to cure people of diseases and raise the dead, and don’t even allow them to take payment for all this labor.  Oh, and don’t give them promotions or a corporate structure or hierarchy or anything!  It’s like the opposite of a pyramid scheme. 

Why would anybody say yes to this?!  Unless…they were themselves healed and knew intimately what it feels like to be broken and then to be made whole.  Why would you say yes to Jesus…unless you yourself experienced thirst and know what it feels like to have your thirst quenched.  Why would you follow Jesus unless you were an outcast and know how it feels to see someone coming towards you with a smile and a welcome so persistent that you begin to believe, “I think they mean it; maybe I do belong here.” 

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus not only represents divine power and presence but democratizes this power and the responsibilities that come with it.  Jesus tells the whole truth and nothing but the truth—follow me as a disciple and you’re going to cure diseases, and you’re also probably going to disappoint your family at some point.  You’re going to welcome little ones, and that’s going to upset the neighbors. 

In a scripture commentary, Stanley Saunders, a retired seminary professor, mentions the triad of prophets, the righteous, and “little ones” that Jesus brings up.  Often in a grouping of three, it’s the third member that brings a surprise.  When Jesus starts out saying “Prophets, the righteous, and—” you’d expect to hear “wise ones” or “holy ones.”  But no, Jesus says “little ones,” the people without power, the people who are vulnerable. 

And it’s not a hierarchy, like prophets first, then righteous, then little ones last.  Little ones are not the least important members of the community; little ones are right up there alongside prophets and the righteous, as far as God’s reign is concerned.  They are not disposable, and they’re not marginal; they are essential to the mission.[1] 

Saunders writes,

“The identification of the little ones, in need of a cup of cold water, instead elevates the least powerful member of the community of disciples into a position equal in importance to that of prophets and righteous ones.”[2]

But this isn’t just about identifying people in these categories.  Saunders goes on to explain:

“These three designations—prophets, the righteous, and little ones—do not differentiate members of the community so much as they describe interrelated aspects of Christ-discipleship. The prophetic dimension has to do with proclamation and miraculous demonstrations of divine power. Righteousness is the enduring pursuit of justice and of the healing and restoration of relationships. The vulnerability of little ones demonstrates that the mission is wholly dependent on God’s power and presence.

The power at work in this mission is fundamentally different in kind from other forms of human power. Dependence is contrary to American cultural values, but dependence on God is crucial to the integrity and distinctive character of the alternative community Jesus is building.”[3]

The power becomes equal between those who offer welcome and those who receive the welcome.  Either place can feel incredibly vulnerable—have you ever failed to extend an invitation because you feared rejection?  Have you ever turned down an invitation because you didn’t trust the person making the invitation? 

Jesus is building an alternative community, the kin-dom of God, and like any family it only grows one person at a time, in small interactions that build trust, actions as small as giving out water.  And each action is vitally important: like prophets giving glory to God, like the righteous who fight for justice, like little ones receiving the cups of water.

All these actions added up over time amount to something—the wages from our work on behalf of whomever we serve, or you could call it the fruit of our labor.  May God lead us to the living water that nourishes us toward our best actions, and may the fruit of our labor nourish God’s kin-dom in this world.  And may God’s freedom liberate us and keep liberating others. 

Amen. 

Pastor Cheryl

[1] Stanley Saunders, Commentary on Matthew 10:40-42, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-13/commentary-on-matthew-1040-42-7

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.