Doing Good Without Knowing It
suggested readings: James 3:13-18, Mark 9:33-35
As everybody knows, the Angelic Council meets on Wednesdays from 3-5 to consider earthly candidates for special rewards and honors. One week, after lengthy discussions, the candidate was chosen. The name was sent to the Divine Source which has to approve every candidate. A memo came back, “approved, but ask her first.”
The Angelic Council appointed a sub-committee (they knew all about forming committees, having been part of churches when they were on earth). The sub-committee found their potential recipient and approached her.
“You have been found worthy. We are pleased to give you the gift of healing touch. Whomever you lay your hands on will be healed.”
The woman said she was sure the gift of healing touch was badly needed on earth, but she’d feel uncomfortable doing that. She wished to decline the honor.
.
The angels caucused, and returned with a new idea.. “You have been found worthy. We are pleased to give you the gift of conversion of hearts. Whenever you speak, people will be moved to change their lives for the better.”
The woman said she was sure the gift of conversion of hearts was badly needed on earth, but it made her too self-conscious. She declined the honor.
Now the angels were grumbling, but they caucused again and came with another proposal.
“You have been found worthy. We are pleased to give you the gift of great virtue. People will see your deeds and be encouraged to live ethical lives themselves.”
The woman said she was sure the gift of great virtue was badly needed on earth, but she was afraid this would make her arrogant. She declined the honor.
It was only after this third refusal that the angels remember the divine memo had said “…but ask her first.”
“So what is it you want? What gift would you accept?”
The woman answered quickly, because she had always known what she wanted. “I want the gift of doing good, but not knowing it.”
The angels caucused again. This was a new development. No one had ever asked for this before. Finally they came up with a way to bestow the gift she wanted.
They made the woman’s shadow a source of goodness. She would go about her life as usual, but whatever or whomever her shadow fell upon would be blessed. As she walked by a dry brook, it would suddenly gurgle with sweet, clear, running water. If her shadow fell upon a sullen child, the child would suddenly smile with contentment. If her shadow fell upon a world-weary man, he would reawaken to vital purpose and passion. No one would embarrass the woman with thanks, because no one would realize what had brought about the change.
And from that day on, the woman went about doing much good, and not knowing it. (The Wedding Feast. John Shea. p.57)
I want to talk to you about those people—maybe us—
who do good without knowing it.
Those people who feel a little disappointed in their lives,
maybe you, I don’t know,
because once you had great intentions,
and you were going to save the world,
or at least be a great parent,
or anyway recycle your cereal boxes.
But you’re not so sure anything you’ve done
has really been that important, or made much difference.
I want to talk about (maybe to?) people like that.
In our passage from Mark’s gospel, we learn from Jesus that it is the ones who serve others who rank high in God’s eyes, not the ones who make it to the top of the prestige ladder.
In Eugene Peterson’s version of James, we hear:
Live well. Live wisely. Live humbly.
It’s the way you live, not the way you talk,
that counts.
Real wisdom, God’s wisdom,
begins with a holy life,
and it is characterized by getting along with others.
It is gentle and reasonable,
overflowing with mercy and blessings.
I want you to understand that I, like you,
really want to do good.
You know, just little ordinary good deeds.
I want to preach the sermon
that ends violence in the world forever.
You know, just little deeds like that.
(I feel the need to get that one written quickly.)
I want to heal the sick, of course.
Maybe I can write a book that will eliminate racism and homophobia—
might as well get them both at once.
Or anyway, take chicken soup to someone.
I want to do good with my life, you know.
Ok, so let me tell you something that happened to me.
Jason was a boy in my confirmation class in a church I once served.
But he did the Sunrise, Sunset thing and grew up while I wasn’t looking.
One day years later he and his wife brought me back to the family home
where Jason’s parents lived.
It was a tiny little town that we both had left long ago.
Progressive thinking was against the law; you know the kind of town.
But we told stories about old times
and saw the relatives and friends
and assured one another untruthfully that we didn’t look a bit older
and we celebrated this lovely child
and thanked God for him
and had a good time.
Now our time together was over
and Jason was driving me back to the airport.
“I don’t know if I ever told you how important you were to me,” he said. He thanked me for his help when he, at 13, faced life-threatening surgery. Fine. You’re welcome. That’s what pastor’s do. Jason and I had talked bout that often.
But then he went on to say something else. “But besides that, I don’t know if you realized that you were my first exposure to the outside world. I had always had such pain because I thought differently than everyone else, saw the world differently. People made fun of me, and I felt so alone. I agreed with them: there must be something wrong with me. When you came, for the first time I met someone from the outside and discovered other people thought as I did, people had different opinions than those permissible in my small town. There wasn’t something wrong with me. I wasn’t alone. I don’t know if you ever knew it, but you were my life-line.”
I had not known it.
Now I want you to notice this. I was a lifeline for Jason, but I didn’t know that until nearly 20 years later. I gave Jason the ability to trust himself. I gave him the courage to move forward. But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t consciously do good. I was just minding my own business and the Spirit was at work and Jason was finding life. Doing good without knowing it.
Can you think of a time in your life when someone did good,
and benefited you, and they never knew it?
Maybe it was the teacher who was gay,
or in some other way different like you were different.
You never talked about it, but you made it through that
year because of his silent witness.
Could it have been that elderly lady next door…
remember her?
She used to drive you crazy sometimes,
but she came that day when you were wondering
if there was any reason to go on.
She never knew it, of course,
that your despair had reached rock bottom.
She was just the neighborly sort
and she’d baked chocolate chip cookies
and brought you some
and they were your favorite
and no one had offered you love (or cookies) in a long time and, well, you hung on, and the next day was better.
Maybe it was your in-laws,
who were so supportive and understanding
throughout those early rough years.
They never knew that you might not have made it
if it weren’t for them.
Doing good without knowing it.
Who was it for you, who did good without knowing it?
Might you have done good for someone, and not known it?
I don’t know why, but it is so easy for us to get thinking our life has been wasted.
Nothing matters.
We’ve messed things up.
We haven’t contributed anything much.
We certainly haven’t lived up to the ideals we had once.
Have you ever felt like that?
It’s a common theme.
Do you remember that great old Jimmy Stewart movie It’s a Wonderful Life?
George felt his life had been wasted
and his despair led him to attempt suicide.
The angel Clarence intervened to show George how he had blessed the lives of so many, just by being himself.
Doing good without realizing it.
Or how about Mr. Holland’s Opus?
Mr. Holland hadn’t done a perfect job as husband or father, and he began to think he’d failed as a teacher, too.
But his students showed him that they had been his great opus, his life work.
Doing good without realizing it.
Sometimes we feel like a failure.
We haven’t ended violence with one sermon
(or even 28 years of them),
nor healed the sick
nor eliminated racism or homophobia.
Our kids haven’t turned out perfect;
we’ve got crab grass in the lawn.
John Pierpont died a failure.
He was 81, an unknown government clerk when he died in 1866.
There had been plenty of promise in the beginning.
He’d graduated from Yale; his grandfather was one of the founders.
He failed at schoolteaching.
He turned to law, but was too concerned about justice.
He failed as a lawyer.
He became a drygoods merchant.
He was too liberal with credit, and failed.
He wrote poetry. It didn’t get published.
He went to Harvard and was ordained for the ministry.
But he was against slavery and that got him into trouble.
He was asked to resign.
He ran for governor of Massachusetts. He lost.
He ran for Congress. He lost.
The Civil War came and he volunteered as a chaplain,
but it was too much for his health and he had to quit.
He ended as a government clerk.
He wasn’t very good at that either.
And yet, every year we honor John Pierpont.
We carry a living memorial to him.
Everyone in this room does.
It’s a song,
a simple song celebrating life’s simple joys.
And you know it by heart.
The song I’m speaking of is “Jingle Bells.”
Hundreds of millions of people all over the earth sing that song,
know it perhaps better than any other song they’ve learned.
It ‘s a gift to the world, that song.
It doesn’t save the rivers
or end racism,
but it builds community
and the joy it spreads is contagious.
John Pierpont was not a failure.
He was one who did good without knowing it.
I suspect some of you feel your life hasn’t counted for much.
Maybe because you never got rich.
Or you aren’t as smart as others you know.
Or because you have a disability or you are too short or too tall or too old.
Maybe because you been told so many times
that you just didn’t cut it.
Maybe because of that string of broken relationships
that you drag behind you.
Or the bad choices you made years ago
that are still haunting you.
Or maybe you haven’t done any dramatic failures,
but you feel you haven’t made any real difference, either.
Well, I want to say something to you.
I want to say that maybe, I don’t know but just maybe,
you are like the woman in our story.
Maybe you have actually been given the gift of doing good without knowing it.
Maybe there are a whole lot of people who have been touched by your shadow.
Maybe you’ve done one little not-very-important thing that has brought joy to more people than you can count.
Maybe—I don’t know, but just maybe—
you have done good, much good.
There is an old Kabbalistic notion
—that the mystical part of Judiasm—
that the world with all its evil and all its brokenness
is sustained by 36 righteous human beings.
That’s all. Just 36.
But for them, the world would descend into total chaos. And those 36 don’t know themselves to be such.
They don’t know it.
And neither do people around them.
36 righteous people sustaining the world.
36 righteous people who have no idea of the good they are doing.
36 righteous people doing good without knowing it.
Someone you know could be one of those people.
Someone in this sanctuary, maybe even.
Doing good without knowing it.
Might be you.
©2009 Janice Jean Springer |
