Jack McKinney

Pullen Memorial Baptist Church

October 1, 2006 – World Communion Sunday

Text: Esther 9:20-23

Celebratory Gifts

One of the most famous scenes in American cinema comes at the end of Frank Capra’s movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. As most of you know, because you still watch the film every Christmas, Jimmy Stewart plays George Bailey, a good man who has lost hope. Contemplating suicide on Christmas Eve because of the series of misfortunes that have befallen him, George encounters the loveable angel in training, Clarence. George tells Clarence he wishes he had never been born, and then Clarence shows George just what life would have been like in Bedford Falls if that were true. When the truth finally dawns on George that he has led a wonderful life, he suddenly doesn’t want to die any more. In fact, he runs through the town shouting joyous greetings to everyone he sees, including the buildings, and then bursts into his home where he even jubilantly greets the bank examiner who has brought the police to arrest him. There in George’s house are all the people who have benefited from his lifetime of generosity and kindness, and they want to help George in his time of need. It all works out, as we well know, but the feeling that overwhelms the viewer is the dramatic shift from despair to elation when George realizes what he almost lost. It is impossible to watch that last scene without viewing our own lives as something of a gift given and a gift received.

The book of Esther in the Bible has its own share of emotional peaks and valleys. We have read the end of the story this morning, which is akin to seeing the last scene of It’s a Wonderful Life. In this text Mordecai, one of the heroes of the story, writes to his fellow Jews in the Persian Empire telling them to begin celebrating. Why? Because their “sorrow has been turned into gladness, and their mourning into a holiday.” What a great line that is. Sorrow has become gladness and mourning has become a holiday. And, indeed, that is exactly what happens in this dramatic tale.

Esther is the young Jewish queen who has ascended to that lofty position after the former queen is executed for a trivial offense. The drama of this narrative hinges on the evil Haman who dupes the king into ordering the eradication of the Jews in the kingdom. In the last hour, Esther is persuaded by her uncle, Mordecai, to risk her life and ask the king to rescind his order. There are many twists and turns to the story from that point, but the final result is that the Jews are spared. And then the party begins. Mordecai says that from this moment forward the Jews should honor the day with a great celebration marked by giving food to one another and gifts to the poor. To this day Jews reenact the story of Esther in the festival of Purim with dramatic plays, elaborate costumes, raucous parties, and yes, gifts of food for one another and money for the poor.

And if you ask me, the Baptists could use their own version of Purim. Actually, all Americans would do well to pay attention to the dynamics of this great drama. If the moral of this story is that when we realize what we have been spared, or grasp what incredible grace has come our way, we should celebrate and give gifts to everyone, then Americans are prime targets for this message. After all, what people on the face of the Earth have known such good fortune as we?

And, yet, there are two great historical influences that hinder us from being able to celebrate properly. First, our Puritan ancestors frowned on such revelry. Historians have demonstrated that the Puritan mindset has so influenced American Protestantism that one of the abiding features of our faith tradition is a generalized constipation. Well, I don’t know if the historians put it quite that way, but you know what I mean. The church has so consistently confused celebration with sin that Christians have rightly earned the reputation of being joyless “do-gooders.”

The other factor that has kept us from celebrating in the manner described in Esther is the hyper-individualism that rules our culture. Because we are addicted to a way of life that says people need to look after themselves, and you can never have too much to be safe, it makes it hard for us to think of others in the midst of our good fortune. When something extra comes our way we are likely to think of what we can get rather than what we can give. And while our system may produce great wealth, it also makes us stingy and soulless.

So, how do we overcome our Puritanical constipation and individualistic miserliness so that we can learn to celebrate in a generous manner? Well, the trick seems to be to understand what George Bailey learned in It’s a Wonderful Life and what Mordecai discovered in the book of Esther. What is that lesson? Simply this. Life is a gift that is not guaranteed to us. And what fortune and blessing we enjoy in this moment doesn’t make us better than anyone else. It doesn’t make us morally superior to the poor and destitute. It just makes us more fortunate. But instead of feeling guilty about our good fortune, we should celebrate it. Yet, it’s a different kind of celebration than what we are used to. It’s a party that includes all the people in our society. Gifts for our friends and gifts for the poor. It’s the same message Jesus kept sending in his parables. Invite all the people to the banquet, Jesus said, for they are the children of God, too. And not only are they the children of God, they are our sisters and brothers. But even beyond that, tomorrow we may be the ones in need, so we should never think in terms of “us” and “them.” We are all in this together.

Today is World Communion Sunday. This is the one day when the Church, which is divided into a million little jigsaw pieces, comes together to make a beautiful mosaic. And even though it is purely symbolic, this is a day when we celebrate all the many expressions of the Church and say “we are in this together.” And how should we celebrate this communing of the world? Easy. With gifts for our friends and gifts for the poor. Isn’t that a better message than harping on all the threats around the world? Gifts for our friends and gifts for the poor. Isn’t that a better message than building fences around our borders and telling people who want to work that they are unwelcome? Gifts for our friends and gifts for the poor. Isn’t that a better message than labeling people fascists so that we score political points even if it costs us in international relations? Gifts for our friends and gifts for the poor. Because life is a gift and it isn’t guaranteed. And tomorrow we could be the ones on the outside looking in. Gifts for our friends and gifts for the poor. Because the church needs to learn how to celebrate the right way.

A couple of years ago I was driving back from a funeral I had conducted with Bill Finlator at Montlawn Cemetery. Bill was sitting in the passenger seat when we came to a stop light. A man looking quite ragged came to the driver’s side window and rapped on it. Feeling a little concerned given that the man was standing in the street and I was waiting for the light to change, I quickly rolled down my window. The man asked if we had a couple of dollars to spare, and before I could say a word, Bill was reaching across my body to hand the man a couple of bucks. And, in Bill’s typical fashion, he smiled at the man and said, “Here you go, friend.” As we drove away Bill said to me, “I never know what the right thing is in that situation. All I know is that God has given me much and it doesn’t hurt me a bit to give something to that fellow.”

Gifts for our friends and gifts for the poor. Because we have been given much and it’s time to celebrate the right way.