Number Three is part two of the fictional story about a church potluck. It comes from the Lent series, BROKEN and BELOVED.
A Story of Potlucks, Wisdom, and Foolishness - Part 2
STEP ONE: BREATHE
Take a deep, cleansing breath. Allow the air to fill your lungs and expand your body. Exhale and empty yourself into the room. Repeat three times - once for the one who Created you, once for the Incarnate One who walks beside you, and once for the Spirit whose life fills your being.
STEP TWO: DWELL IN WORD
“Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” And he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
— Luke 7: 48-50
The story continues from yesterday….
At first, Mrs. Pryce just stood in the doorway of the kitchen. From left to right, she scanned the room and looked into the agonized faces of the other women. Each one's avoidance told her what she needed to know; someone was questioning her authority.
Who?
When Mrs. Pryce's eyes spotted Pastor Beth with the cardboard box of fried chicken in her hands, Vanessa Pryce had her answer. It was the pastor; it was time once again to re-establish the proper pecking order.
"We can't put that out," Vanessa spoke with unswerving confidence.
Pastor Beth replied, "Why not?"
"For starters, it is not in a dish. Nor is it homemade or enough for everyone to have a piece. We have standards, and there are rules that we must follow from the department of health," declared Mrs. Pryce in a voice reserved for judges when they hand down a sentence.
Pastor Beth went to the corner shelf and took one of the dishes that someone forgot to pick up from a previous function. She proceeded to wash her hands. Following hand sanitization, Pastor Beth carefully placed each piece of supermarket fried chicken into the borrowed bowl.
The rest of the women in the room looked on with stunned apprehension as if they were watching a moth flutter in the direction of a flame. Didn't the pastor know what was going to happen? Nobody crossed swords with Mrs. Pryce and emerged the victor. Even though she might be right - at least two of the women raised a similar version of Pastor Beth's question - was this a battle that the pastor needed to fight?
Mrs. Pryce stood unmoveable, blocking the path to the fellowship hall. Now her arms were crossed, and she wasn't smiling. Even a child could perceive the indignation that came from this powerhouse of a person. Silence, tension, and trouble hung heavy in the air of that church kitchen.
When Pastor Beth finished preparing her dish, she shared a story...
Back in the church where I grew up, there was once was a single mother who had three children. She was a good mom and worked hard to support her kids. It took three part-time jobs to make ends meet. She didn't complain because she was able to provide for her daughters. Each week, on Sunday morning, she brought her family to church. Having finished a late-night shift at a local bakery, the mom was always tired and had a hard time staying awake during the sermon.
Once a year, the church had a giant potluck. Everybody brought dishes and filled the table with large bowls of salads, meats, and Jellos. One year, not having the time to prepare a large dish between getting off work and getting to church, the mother stopped at a local convenience store and picked up a box of donuts. It was her offering and contribution. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.
Now how do you think MY mother would have felt if when she came through the line, she didn't see what she brought? How do you think her daughters would feel not to see their favorite sprinkle-covered donuts?
Pastor Beth's story and questions hit with all the punch of a parable of Jesus. The eyes of the women once again returned to check out their shoes. This time, shame shrouded their passive glances.
With tears welling up in her eyes, Pastor Beth continued, "The cardboard box said that this chicken was from Susan. It is her offering to this feast. There must be a place for it on the banquet table."
Pastor Beth walked towards the kitchen door and Mrs. Pryce who was still standing in the way. Just before the two women collided, Vanessa stepped to the side. Her anger was seething as she watched the pastor put a tiny bowl of chicken on the potluck table.
Pastor Beth then went to the end of the buffet and got her plate. She arrived in the line, as odd circumstance would have it, right behind Susan and her children. Slowly they walked along the table of food, scooping out salads and jellos. Susan's youngest proudly announced, "look, mommy! There is the chicken we brought!"
Susan smiled.
And so did Jesus.
STEP THREE: RESPOND IN PRAYER
Gracious and loving God, give us the wisdom to see beyond our limited experiences and incomplete perceptions. Open our hearts so that we might push away the ignorance that prevents us from fully sharing your love. Through Jesus, amen.