The Place Where Hope Begins

Last week, a friend of mine and her two sons, who are ten and six, stopped by for a visit.  They moved out of the state last year and I don’t get to see them often, so I was excited for them to visit, but I was somewhat anxious as to how my ten-month-old kitten, Pippin, would respond to them.

Pippin is a very friendly cat, but he is mostly used to one visitor at a time—three visitors, two of whom were energetic boys—I had no idea what he would do.

The boys walked into my condo and the ten-year-old immediately flopped down in my big, comfy chair and a few minutes later, he was curled up under a blanket—yes, my air conditioning is still working, but the six-year-old, as is the case with most six-year-olds, could not sit still. 

Pippin didn’t run from him, but he wasn’t exactly playful either.

The six-year-old was all over my condo, looking for Pippin’s toys, throwing Pippin his toys.  All the while, Pippin just kind of stared at him with this curious look.

Finally, the six-year-old climbed up into the big, comfy chair with his brother.

“You know,” I told him, “if you take off your socks and you sit real still, Pippin might come over and lick your feet.”

In a flash, the socks came off and, not five seconds, later, Pippin hopped up on the ottoman and began licking the six-year-old’s feet to a chorus of delighted giggles.

“That’s it,” I said, throwing up my hands, “that’s his one trick.  He licks feet.”

I’ve actually taken to calling Pippin the Jesus cat now because this is how he greets all my guests.  If you walk into my condo with bare feet, you are guaranteed to be greeted with a vigorous and scratchy-tongued foot washing.

Earlier this year, I had to take Pippin to the vet three times, twice to the emergency vet and once to his regular vet for what should have been a simple sore on his back.  The visits cost me several hundred dollars and when I told my grandmother about it, her reply was simple and to the point.

“Kill the cat,” she said with a grin.

I should point out that Grandma, who is almost eighty-five, has never actually cared for a pet of her own.

I told her that Pippin was just a kitten and while, yes, it was a lot of money that I wished I didn’t have to spend, it was what I had signed up for when I adopted Pippin, that I would do whatever it took to make sure he was cared for.

Just last year, I spent a great deal of money caring for another one of my cats who had leukemia.  He didn’t make it, but I don’t regret even one dollar that I spent trying to save his life.

They aren’t just cats.  They aren’t just pets.  They are living creatures—God’s own—whose safety and well-being has been entrusted to me.

Our pets are just one thing we may feel responsible for over the course of any given day.

We feel responsible for our family, for our children, our spouse, our parents and siblings.

Branching out further, we may feel responsible for friends.

Beyond that, our work family and our church family.

But let’s be honest, the further out we move from our immediate family, the less responsibility we feel toward the plight of others.

Sure, we may occasionally donate to the GoFundMe page of a friend of a friend.

We may be moved for the cost of one of cup of coffee a day to donate to starving children in Africa.

But we don’t feel responsible for them.

In a way, it’s a form of self-protection.  To feel responsible for strangers, the same way we feel responsible for family—who has that much compassion?  Who has that much strength?  It would be overwhelming.  We’d experience compassion fatigue.

So, we do our best, don’t we?

We try.

Isn’t that enough?

Jesus tells us the answer to that question.

And that answer may surprise you.

Because the truth is, we aren’t doing enough.  We’re not even close.

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus says in Luke 12:48, “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.”

There is no country on this planet that has been given more than the United States, no country on this earth that has been blessed more than the United States.  There is no country anywhere that has been entrusted with more than this country.

God has tasked us with a great responsibility, to be a beacon, to be a sanctuary, to be a refuge for everyone seeking freedom, for everyone hoping to find a better life for themselves and for their children.

We are tasked with the most simple and straightforward of God’s commandments.

Love your neighbor.

“Who is my neighbor?” the lawyer asks Jesus in Luke 10:29, hoping I think for a long, annotated list he can reference throughout the day. 

But Jesus doesn’t give him a list.  Instead Jesus gives him the parable of the Good Samaritan. 

What’s interesting about the parable of the Good Samaritan is that Jesus doesn’t answer the lawyer’s question.  He doesn’t say who our neighbor is.  It’s implied, but what Jesus actually does is answer the question the lawyer should have asked.

Not—who is my neighbor?

But rather—what do I need to do to be a good neighbor?

“Who was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” Jesus asks the lawyer in verse 36.

“The one who showed mercy,” the lawyer answers in verse 37.

It bears repeating.

The one who showed mercy.

We, as a nation, are severely deficient in mercy these days.  We are severely deficient in mercy’s cousins, otherwise known as empathy and kindness and unconditional love.

How do we know if we have compassion fatigue?

How do we know if we are deficient in empathy?

See how you answer the following questions.

When you see a man on the side of the road holding a sign that says “Hungry, please help,” do you see a grifter, a conman, or do you see Jesus?

When you see a long line of people, hiking thousands of miles to our southern border with nothing but the clothes on their back, do you see invaders, or do you see Joseph and Mary and Jesus, fleeing to Egypt?

When you see our president, do you see evil incarnate, or do you see a child of God?

Do you think in a country that just saw two mass shootings in less than 24 hours, in a country that literally has more guns than people, that the solution to gun violence is more guns?

Did you buy a bulletproof backpack for your child this school year?  Or do you know someone who did?

Do you live in fear?

Or do you live in hope?

These questions are meant to allow you the opportunity to begin some serious soul-searching.  Because believe me when I say that 99% of us right now are living in fear. 

Hope seems like a luxury we cannot afford.

And mercy?  Mercy seems completely out of reach.  Do we even know what mercy looks like anymore?

We are terrified in many respects and understandably so in many cases.

But that does not excuse our behavior.

Because Jesus makes it very clear what God expects of us.

To whom much has been given, much will be required.

To whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.

God has entrusted this country with so much.

Love your neighbor.

It’s the place where hope begins.

Amen.