He said, “I don’t have the spoons for that.”

I laughed. I had no idea what the words meant but I understood the meaning. Do you ever have an experience like that? Like you didn’t hear someone clearly but you intuited their meaning?

We were out on the Square at Medina Pride. Meghan and I were doing glitter blessings and I ran into an old Library D&D friend. He has a chronic disease and asked how much glitter I had put on his head. I said not very much, a wash cloth ought to do the job. “Good,” he said. “I can do a wash cloth but a shower? I don’t have the spoons for that.”

I don’t have the spoons for that. This is a concept that folks with disabilities use. The idea is that we all have a given amount of spoons. Say we temporarily non-disabled folk have 10 spoons. Our morning routine takes one spoon. For those of us who get up and go to work, that’s maybe 3-5 spoons depending on the day. Then home for dinner and the evening, that’s another 2 spoons. Yet with my friend, he doesn’t always have 10 spoons. Sometimes he has 3. Sometimes he has 6. Depends on the day.

I think the Prophet Jeremiah would understand this phrase. Jeremiah is all out of spoons in today’s reading. Jeremiah is being persecuted for delivering the word of God.

“For whenever I speak, I must cry out, I must shout ‘Violence and destruction!’” He is reproached for this message. He wants to be quiet, but he can’t–he has this fire in his bones. Holy Moly, can I relate to this passage. Maybe you can, too. I have this fire in my bones. It’s shut up in there, and I have to let it out. I do so through preaching and crafting liturgies and leading bible studies. Sometimes this work adds to my spoons. And sometimes, I just don’t have enough spoons for this.

Like Jeremiah, I have this uncomfortable truth. Here’s the truth: sometimes I just hate it here. Sometimes I really don’t like this existence, this world that we’ve created. It’s just not the way it’s supposed to be.[1]

When I get all agitated, some folks shrug and say, “Well, it is what it is.” Yeah…. Well… I’m trying to change that. I don’t like what it is. I want it to be something else. Something more humane. More loving. Less cruel and aggressive and bigoted. Maybe you’ve felt this way. Worse are those who are downright hostile to the message of welcoming, loving, and serving. I guess it’s an unpopular stance. It’s hard to stand up and talk about things it seems like no one believes in. Things like compassion, inclusion, freedom, and love. Like the Prophet Jeremiah, I am weary of holding this in; indeed, I cannot. Sometimes I just hate it. I don’t have the spoons for this.

Worse yet! I know when you’re in a hole, you should stop digging, but I’m doing one more shovel load here… Worse yet, one would think that a collection of books inspired by a loving God would be a pleasant read. Yet when we read the bible, it can test our faith. We get this story of separation and cruelty and meanness. Genesis is all about broken relationships. Let’s take a look at our early family system here.[2]

Adam and Eve were a great pair. Adam means dirt. And Eve means living. We are living dirt. We come from ash and to ash we shall return we say each and every Ash Wednesday. Yet mistrust and blame crept in. Adam blamed Eve. Eve blamed the snake. We’ve been passing off our responsibility ever since. We keep blaming each other and not taking responsibility for the compassion we must show. We must take responsibly for our call to wonder about our neighbor.

Cain and Abel were perfect pair. Abel means “breath” or “vapor” whereas Cain means “Acquired.”[3] Vapor thrived in the garden, tending the soil, the Acquired thrived with animals and tending the flocks. The rabbis look at how Cain acquired his brother’s stuff out of jealousy. Abel meant nothing to Cain, was vapor. Cain wanted to acquire God’s blessing and jealousy got in the way. When the Divine asks Cain where his brother is, Cain callous askes “Am I my brother’s keeper?” We have been asking that ever since. The answer is yes. Yes, we are.

Abraham, father of multitudes is a perfect pair with Sarah, the noblewoman, the princess. Sarah laughed when she was reminded of the promise. She named her only son, Isaac. Isaac means laughter. I think God planned to keep covenant both with Ishmael and with Isaac, in spite of their parents’ disagreements. Each had his own set of gifts, but jealousy drove the half-brothers apart. Today we hear the story of Sarah casting out Hagar and Ishmael. It feels cruel. Callous. We can have a lot of anger toward Sarah. Why would she do this? Why would Abraham go along with this?

Once again, the Bible is true because we’re still separating people. We’re still separating children. I think of Ruby Bridges going to school and the uproar that caused. She’s the same age as many in this room. She just retired last year, this is not ancient history. We who are made in the image of likeness of God still struggle with seeing the image of the Creator in one another. We prefer to stay to the area of the tapestry that looks like us. We still struggle to find strength and wisdom from diversity.

Here’s the tie in between our two texts today, between the prophet Jeremiah and Hagar and Ishmael. God stands with the people who get cast aside. The ones who are mocked have a fire in their bones through which God prevails.

Ishmael’s name means “God will hear.” God will hear the call of those cast aside. God will come running. Being cast aside puts a fire in the bones. Folks speak their truth, and they’re told they’re mistaken.

“Have you tried not being disabled?”
“Oh, you’re just doing this for attention.”
“Take up jogging. It will strengthen your legs so then you can walk.”

These are actual things said to Dr. Kenny, author of the book My Body is not a Prayer Request. She points out how 67% of Americans are uncomfortable talking to someone with a disability. She points out that society is built with a lot of stairs and narrow halls and general inaccessibility. When our disabled neighbors point this out to the rest of us, we mock. Deny. Say things like, “You’re just doing this for attention.” Or “It’ll cost too much.” Or framing wheelchairs as the problem and not the buildings themselves.

When I think of this, my heart breaks. This is the source of that feeling I was talking about. Why I hate it here on Earth so much. Why can’t we listen to our neighbor and respond to their needs? Why is our response to insult and reproach these prophets?

What does it cost us to listen and consider? Nothing. I wish Sarah had spoken to Abraham about her concerns. I wish she had gone to Hagar and said, “Okay, we both have children now. Let’s talk about how this is going to work.”

That’s not the story we got. If I could rewrite this story, I would have that hard conversation modeled for us. Of two strong women, two mothers of nations coming together and working it out. How Ishmael and Isaac were best friends and Ishmael was an amazing big brother and Isaac provided laughter and love. That compassion and understanding won the day!

Yet we continue to cast out our neighbor. We refuse to listen to our prophets. We refuse to listen to their stories. The stories of our disabled neighbors. Authors like Dr. Kenny or Alice Wong author of Year of the Tiger or the late great disability activist Judy Heumann.[4] Those whose fire would not be shut up in their bones, so they spoke out.

Judy Heumann wrote in her memoir, “Our anger was a fury sparked by profound injustices. Wrongs that deserved ire. And with that rage we ripped a hole in the status quo.”

For those of us who yearn for a more just, equitable, and inclusive world… I’m with you. I want that too. More access. More listening. More community and less separation. Judy reminds us that “Change never happens at the pace we think it should. It happens over years of people joining together, strategizing, sharing, and pulling all the levers they possibly can. Gradually, excruciatingly slowly, things start to happen, and then suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, something will tip.”

I mean, it has to start somewhere. It has to start sometime. What better place than here. What better time than now? Right?

Where do we go from here? We read. We listen. We seek out podcasts. We notice wheelchairs in movies. We perceive with new eyes. Since this series has started, I’m starting to notice how accessible places are. How many stairs it takes to get in somewhere. Uneven floors.

Church, may we like water for Ishmael, an oasis for outcasts, the marginalized, and those cast out. May we be like finding water in the desert. May our voice be an echo of the voice of God speaking about how all are created in the image of the divine and beloved. How we are fearfully and wonderfully made. It’s like finding a community that believes that about us, too. Hey! You’re great! Wait until you meet so-and-so, y’all are just going to hit it off!

Yes, this world can be wearisome. Sometimes, we just hate it here. We just don’t have the spoons for this. We’re too old for this. Yet, You. You, church. With your story and your perspective, you living dirt. You stardust! You gift from God. His eye is on the sparrow and we know he watches over us. And we watch over each other. It’s why our building looks the way it looks, why we do what we do, why we have live streaming because sometimes people just don’t have the spoons to get here. You my friends… Since I’ve been hanging out with you since 2005 and ordained these last 12 years, last 6 has your pastor, I’m 17 and a quarter percent less awful. Thank you. You’re my hope. My proof that it’s not as awful as it seems because when you hear a story, when you know, you do. You feed the hungry, cloth the naked, look out for the poor, and make this place accessible. You! Thank you. And thanks be to God. Amen.

Works Cited

[1] If you feel this way, here’s a good book for you: Cornelius Plantinga Jr, Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A breviary of sin. Eerdmans Publishing, February 6, 1996.

[2] The earliest sermon on family systems I could find was about Genesis and the story of Joseph: https://www.uccmedina.org/sermons/joe/

[3] Class notes from my 2008 class on Jewish Interpretation of the Bible.

[4] I’ve preached on Prophet Judy before in this sermon: https://www.uccmedina.org/sermons/persistent/