Not too many years ago, when I lived in a place that was not a city or even a town, I overheard a conversation between two teenage boys.
The older of the two boys had recently acquired a driver’s license and a car, although the way he talked, you’d almost think he’d been behind the wheel ever since the first ’57 Chevy came off the assembly line.
It wasn’t a 57 Chevy that he had. I don’t remember what kind of a car it was. But he drove that car all over the place, with a sort-of false seriousness about him: he drove it to school, he drove it into town, he drove it to the movies, he drove it to the mall; and sometimes he even drove it into town just to get a taco from Taco Bell.
The younger boy in this conversation wasn’t yet old enough to drive; which is why, in this conversation, he was asking the older boy for a ride.
He said to him, “I need a ride.”
To me, that sounded like a statement of fact, not a question requiring a response. However, the older boy must have recognized it as a question, because he replied, “No.”
“Come on,” said the younger boy, trying to put the right amount of desperation in his voice without sounding too whiny. “You’re not doing anything.”
And the older boy said, “No.”
And then the older boy said, “Have you asked anyone else?”
“There isn’t anyone else,” said the younger boy.
“Well, can you go tomorrow?”
“No, I need to go now.”
Then the older boy said, “Why should I take you? What’s in it for me?”
Ah, the “what’s in it for me” question. An essential component of the adolescent repertoire. The younger boy recognized the question, understood its legitimacy and its logic, and knew that any hope he had of getting a ride depended on how he answered. For a moment, I could see the gears spinning in his head, before he replied, “When I’m old enough to drive, I’ll give you a ride in my car.”
The older boy looked away and said, “Like I’d want to ride in your car.”
Uh-oh. The younger boy was about to lose his chance. He said, in desperation, “I’ll give you gas money.”
The older boy grunted … and turned his head to look back at the younger boy.
“And,” said the younger boy, “I’ll buy you a soda at the AM/PM.”
“Alright,” said the older boy. “Fine. But keep your mouth shut and your hands off the radio.”
And off they went.
These days, when I hear my own sons engage in similar negotiations, the “What’s in it for me” question inevitably shows up. And always, the one being asked that question never challenges the assumption behind the question. It is always recognized as a fair question in any bargaining session.
“What’s in it for me?”
Ahh, kids these days….
Well, it wasn’t long after that, that I had to drive to the big city for a meeting, and to get there I had to drive over a toll bridge. As I approached the booth, I recalled a story I had read somewhere, about a person who would always pay not only his own toll, but also the toll for whoever was behind him.
Can you imagine what a nice surprise that would be, to have someone unexpectedly pay your toll? It’s really a rather small gesture, and yet I thought that if that happened to me, it would probably put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.
So I began looking into the window of the car in front of me, trying to decide if the driver of that car was the type of person who would pay a toll for a complete stranger. I felt hopeful, kind of like a person scratching of his lottery ticket, thinking to himself, “This could be the one!”
Not that I’ve ever done that.
I kept looking into that car in front of me, but then – quite by accident – I happened to catch a glimpse in my rear-view mirror of the car and driver behind me. “Oh,” I thought to myself. “Maybe… Maybe I should pay his toll. Do unto others as you’d want them to do unto you, right? Except that he probably wouldn’t get as excited or as happy about it as I would. Besides, I’d never know, would I? I’d be long gone, unable to even see the reaction on his face, which means that I would get absolutely nothing out of this, that there’s absolutely nothing in it for me.
“Plus, I’d be out four bucks.”
So I paid my toll, but not the toll of the driver behind me. After all, there was nothing in it for me.
Our scripture story today takes place in the house of a leader of the Pharisees. This leader had invited Jesus and a number of other guests to dine with him on the Sabbath. Without going into too much detail, let me tell you what a meal like this was like. There were certain seats that were more honorable than others; generally speaking, the seats by the host were for the more important guests, while those farther away were for those who were less important.
All of the guests at this meal had some measure of influence. That’s why they were invited. The host of the meal invited them, because he wanted to impress them. He invited them, and had a lavish feast prepared, because he believed that there was something in it for him. Perhaps he could score a favor. Perhaps he could earn an invitation to an even more prestigious dinner somewhere else, perhaps even in a palace. And, perhaps he could impress himself and his guests by also inviting Jesus, that wildly popular yet highly controversial wandering teacher, and possibly show off his own wit and wisdom by trapping Jesus with controversial hot-button questions that would expose him as a heretic.
OK, I don’t really know why Jesus was invited. I’m just guessing that the motives of the host, although I think it is probably a pretty good guess. I think it is also pretty reasonable to assume that as Jesus watched the guests figure out where to sit, he couldn’t help but laugh. They all wanted the highest seat, the seat of honor, and so they eyeballed each other, judging each other, judging who was most important, each one probably overestimating his own importance and downplaying the importance of everyone else, counting heads and counting places at the table to see if anyone was yet to arrive, and taking the highest seat they dared. Perhaps there was a disagreement or two, argued out with false politeness, until everyone had found their spot.
Clearly, they came not because the host invited them, but because there was something in it for them; and each of them wanted as much of that “something” as he could get.
It was then that Jesus – who I assume found a place at the lower end – spoke. “Do not do things,” he said to them, “because you expect some sort of reward in return. Do not invite only those who can repay your generosity. Generosity that expects to be repaid is not generosity at all. Hospitality that asks, “What’s in it for me?” is not hospitality at all. Give without expecting to be repaid. Give, and do not ask, “What’s in it for me?”
Back when I lived in that place that was not a city or even a town, there was, in a town not too far away, an annual festival put on by members of the Sikh community. Tens of thousands of Sikhs from all over came for this festival, which included a parade, teaching lectures, and food. Lots of food. Local Sikhs spent a week or more getting ready for their big banquet.
And get this: they invited everyone in the community, even those who weren’t Sikhs, even those who belonged to different religions. An open invitation went out to all, as a “thank you to the community,” they said. There was no obligation. Just come.
Well, obviously, not everyone in the community went. I never went myself, even though it wasn’t that far away, although now I kind of wish I had.
Some people didn’t go because they were busy that day. Others didn’t go because they figured there must be a catch. Who shows such open, welcoming hospitality these days? There must be strings attached.
Well, as far as I could tell, there were no strings attached. The hosts and organizers weren’t doing this because there was something in it for them. They were doing it because they felt called to serve their community.
What a wonderful example of how we are to serve our community and our world. And what a testament to the power of God’s generous spirit. When I said that having someone pay my bridge toll would make my day, I wasn’t kidding. It’s not the four dollars that would bring a smile to my face. It’s not the place of food given with no strings attached. It’s the kindness, the hospitality, the selfless generosity. It’s simple acts, performed with kindness and love.
I’ve noticed the power of God’s generous spirit when I’ve handed a sack lunch to a hungry person knocking on our church door. Often with a great smile or a bow, the recipient thanks me and offers me a blessing. It feels strange and awkward to me. The gratitude expressed seems disproportionate. It’s just a brown paper sack with a little bit of food in it.
But that’s not really true, because each bag also contains the love and prayers and generous spirit of the worshiping community of faith. It is given freely, with no expectation or obligation attached. It is a gift.
It’s the same thing with Vacation Bible School. It’s the same thing with our other Christian education programs. It’s the same thing with the support we offer to community youth organizations who use our building. In fact, on the bulletin board in my office, I have dozens of thank-you notes and cards that I have received thanking me for my ministry and for the ministry of this congregation….
There are notes from individuals and organizations, church members and community members.
There are notes from other congregations as well as the South Coast Interfaith Council. There’s one from a Disciples student at Chapman University. There’s one from Miller Children’s Hospital, and one from Pacific Hospital. There’s one from Los Coyotes School, signed by Spencer Torres. There’s one from Holy Spirit Fellowship.
There are two from young members of Hillcrest Christian Church in Overland Park, Kansas, whose youth group stayed here while participating in the ICYF Conference at Chapman University two summers ago. There’s one from Pat Messenger and Nancy Fowler on behalf of the regional Disciples’ Women.
There are more, but I think I’ve made my point. There is great power in performing selfless acts of service. The recipients of that generosity and hospitality are filled with that power, that love, and they are grateful.
I keep these thank-you notes as a reminder to myself, because there are times when I am tempted to ask, “What’s in it for me?” There are times when I am tempted to ask, “What good will it do?” There are times when I am tempted to ask, “What’s the point?”
I mean, let’s face it, there are days when we are all just tempted to throw in the towel and give up, because we doubt the impact we’re having or we fail to see what we ourselves get out of it.
But then I look at my bulletin board covered with thank-you notes, most of them handwritten by people who were so profoundly grateful for the small act of kindness I showed them or the small service that the church did for them, and I am reminded of the great and generous power of God’s Spirit that works through us and which gives us the ability to keep on giving.
And it is then that I stop asking, “What’s in it for me?” It is then that I realize that there is, in fact, quite a lot in it, for everyone, for both the giver and the recipient. All are blessed by acts of kindness. All are blessed by selfless acts of giving.
And that is how God, full of wisdom and love, designed it. The blessings flow freely when we give selflessly, when we humble ourselves, when we show kindness to friends and strangers. It doesn’t matter how small or large the gesture. When we give, the blessings flow.
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.
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