Chopsticks and Leviticus
Photo by Stephen Bedase on Unsplash
Years ago, my husband and I were missionaries in Taiwan with the Episcopal Church. While there, we were given a pair of chopsticks that were about 1.5 feet long. An elder shared this parable with us:
There once was a man who was given a long pair of chopsticks as he moved from death into eternity. He was taken up into heaven and there he found the most gorgeous banquet table. Foods were laid out and the aromas filled the air. There was a huge host of people gathered around, each with their own long chopsticks. The chopsticks were much too long for one to grab food and then place in their own mouth. No one’s arm’s could extend quite that far.
However, here in heaven they took turns feeding one another from their own plates.
Then, the man was taken to hell and was surprised! There he saw the same gorgeous banquet table and smelled the same aromas. Here too was a host of people each holding a pair of long chopsticks.
Only, here in hell, they sought in vain to feed only themselves. Everyone starved.
The book of Leviticus, like the parables of chopsticks, kindles my philanthropic imagination. The people of Israel, having been enslaved in an economy that prized the commodification of bodies, are now wandering the desert. Though freed from Pharaoh's oppression, trauma and generational trauma both shaped their identity and relationships. Leviticus, words from Moses, provided this healing community to learn how to live in covenant as neighbors and in a shared relationship with the divine.
Here we read:
19 The Lord said to Moses, 2 “Speak to the entire assembly of Israel and say to them: ‘Be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy.
What follows is a series of ways we are to live as neighbors in community. We read in the Hebrew Scriptures about how Israel’s covenant was not an individual commitment between one man and the divine. Righteousness, holiness or right living in Leviticus 19 was determined by the sharing of resources as a community, or collective identity. This would seem at odds with our western notions of the market providing justice through individual opportunity and gain.
What I hear across the church is the desire of judicatories to provide support (i.e. invest) in congregations that meet metrics of preconceived success (i.e. giving numbers, membership, etc.). I wonder what our communities would be like if our metrics of success were shaped by the following questions:
How is a faith community supporting the widows and dispossessed?
How is a faith community using its funds for the benefit of the community?
How is a faith community treating one another?
How is a faith community living as neighbors?
How is our faith community forming people to share?
As we live in this season of Stewardship, now is the time to consider alternative ways of being with and for one another. In this invitation, we are freed from the hell of individual grasps for gain. In this invitation, we find the joy of serving one another.
