According to a Jewish folktale, there were once two brothers who farmed together and split their profits right down the middle – half to one brother and half to the other. Each brother had his own granary. One brother was married and had a large family while the other remained a bachelor.
One day the single brother thought to himself, “It is not fair that we divide the grain evenly. My brother has many mouths to feed while I have but one. I know what I will do. I will take a sack of grain from my granary each evening and put it in my brother’s granary.” So each night when it was dark, he carefully carried a sack of grain and placed it in his brother’s barn.
Meanwhile, the married brother thought to himself, “It is not fair that we divide the grain evenly. I have many children to care for me in my old age, and my brother has none. I know what I will do. I will take a sack of grain from my granary each evening and put it in my brother’s barn.” And so he did.
Each morning the two brothers were amazed to find that though they had removed a sack of grain the night before, they had just as many sacks. From the perspective of the number of sacks of grain kept by each brother, nothing really changed as a result of their generosity to each other. Each brother had the same amount of grain after his sharing in the night as he had before he shared. As far as the grain was concerned, the brothers may as well have done nothing for each other. They certainly would have gotten more sleep if they had never thought of sharing!
But, as Jesus said, life does not consist in the abundance of possessions (nor in the abundance of grain). Every day, each brother was aware of what he had done for the other. Their love for one another deepened. The blessings of having shared sacrificially for the sake of the other came upon each of them. Although nothing had changed as far as the sacks of grain were concerned, everything had changed as far as the brothers were concerned.
Within the church we find that we receive at least as much as we give. This sharing with one another can be selfish and inwardly directed, especially if the church forgets its mission to be the Body of Christ given in its time and place. But the sharing within the fellowship need not be selfish or inwardly directed. We can still keep our eyes on the vision of ministering to the world and at the same time bless one another with a fellowship of hope, peace, joy, and love. We can be there for one another without being absent from a world in need.
There is a tradition regarding the last words of John the disciple in Ephesus. As he was on his deathbed, he repeatedly told those around him, “Children, love one another.” I first learned about this tradition at seminary, and frankly, I was disappointed. But now I believe that John was right on target. Clarence Jordan was fond of saying that the church has no right whatsoever to preach to the world anything it has not experienced itself – things like love, peace, joy, forgiveness, justice, mercy, and sharing. Now the fear some people have (and, frankly, the fear I had back at seminary when I reacted so negatively to that tradition about the last words of John) is that the church will only love itself – that it will turn inward and become a nice little bastion of snugly love and forget a world in need and pain. But Jordan knew better, and so did John. That’s why in our passage for today and throughout I John we keep hearing, “Love one another.” Wherever authentic love, peace, joy, forgiveness, justice, mercy, and sharing are practiced (and the key word there is authentic), they cannot be contained. They must overflow like bread rising from yeast. And their growth is exponential – astonishing, breaking down barrier after barrier. So yes, we have a mission – a mission as large as the world. But chances are we will have nothing of worth to offer that world if we have not first experienced and practiced it among ourselves.
I suspect that after years of sharing in the fellowship of the faithful, many in the church are just like the two brothers in the folktale. We have received at least as much as we have given. And maybe we have given at least as much as we have received. And from the perspective of the outsider, perhaps participation in such a church makes no sense. Why belong to something in which you receive as much as you give? The reason in part is that such sharing changes us. We are not the same after participating for years in a family where each will “sneak out in the night to bless each other.” That holy difference transforms apparent equilibrium into dynamic blessing.
The Jewish folktale goes on to say that one night the two brothers met each other between their barns, each carrying a sack of grain. Then they understood the mystery, and embraced and loved each other even more deeply. God looked down from heaven, saw the two brothers embracing, and said, “I declare this to be a holy place, for I have witnessed extraordinary love.” It is said that it was on that very spot that Solomon built the first temple.
Now, this is a folktale, and it has nothing to do with where Solomon built the temple in Jerusalem. But as we all know, stories can have truth within them – sometimes profound truth – without being factual. I think those of us who have experienced this transforming sharing and community understand what the legend is saying. Shared love creates holy space where we can blossom and grow to the glory of God. In my years as a minister, I have seen many parishioners “sneaking out in the night to bless each other.” The fellowship of such people knows how to share, how to love, and how to care. And perhaps we receive as much as we give, but we know that such sharing makes a difference – perhaps the difference in our ability not only to cope but to blossom and bear the fruit of the Spirit not only within these walls but in our daily lives and in this world which is the apple of God’s eye.
Sneaking out into the night to bless each other–what a wonderful conspiracy! May we all be such holy sneaks. Amen.
