"Washing Jesus' Feet"

People in the mid-west kid about the Norwegian Lutherans and their Lutvisk. In central PA it's equivalent would be chicken and waffles, I suppose. I wonder who ever thought of serving those two together? It's not that it's bad - actually, neither is Lutvisk. It's more the idea of the thing. Perhaps, one day after 8:00 worship, perhaps after a particularly long sermon, the folks couldn't decide whether to have breakfast or lunch, so they split the difference: "I'll have my usual chicken dinner. Oh, and bring me an order of waffles, too!" The rest is history.

People in central Pennsylvania also like their pot pie, just like many people in other places do - except here, it's mostly pot with no pie to go with it. Instead of a crust, they just boil the dough and throw it in the pot. I guess they figure it saves breaking up the pie crust yourself. Just don't argue with them that it isn't a pie - they won't know what you're talking about, and will insist that's the proper way to make a pot pie. They even have dinners of it, and offer it for carry out - not in a pie, mind you, but in a jar, since it doesn't have a crust. And they raise money for all kind of things selling pot pie.

It's the way they take care of people. When they are down and out, feed them a little pot pie - it's cheap, warms the soul, and makes you feel good. Or, if that's not enough - if they've lost their house or need a transplant, you can sell it, and people will buy lots of it, mostly to help. but as they eat it, they will think of the folks they are helping, and the incense of pot pie will rise to God's nostrils, and he will be pleased, and so will they, as they sit and eat it.

Last week they had a pot pie dinner over at Our Redeemer. It began as a Fellowship meeting - a chance for people to just get together over pot pie and get to know one another a bit better. Then someone got the idea that fellowship wasn't enough. Pot pie is meant for higher purposes - like raising money for benevolence. So they added a dollar to the cost, and went for matching funds from Thrivent. They still didn't have a cause, but there are always causes out there waiting to be served, and it didn't take long for them to find one. Actually, there was a discussion about it - Jim McPhearson wanted to use if for the local Food Pantry, and argued that pot pie would be perfect for that - selling food to raise money for food. But that didn't seem right to the others - these dinners usually were more specific - someone's house that had burned down, or someone who needed an operation.

Luckily Amy Dickerson had stopped to get some gas on the way to the meeting of the Fellowship Committee, and had noticed on the counter of the gas station a canister for putting quarters in, placed there by the family of a boy named Scot Thomas. It seemed that he had been in an accident, and needed a series of operations to set things right again, but the family lacked resources. So they were putting these cans in gas stations, collecting whatever money they could to help offset their expenses. Amy brought it up before the Fellowship Committee. It turned out that a couple of people even knew the family, although not well; but Jim's son actually went to school with the boy, who was fourteen years old. The Committee thought it would be a good idea, and show the community that the church was not just about them, but about helping people in the name of Christ. Amy volunteered to contact the family, which she did, and last Saturday they had the dinner.

It was a nice occasion, really. The biggest fear was that the congregation wouldn't show up, because it wasn't someone in the congregation that they were helping. In fact, only a few really knew the boy. But the turnout was good from the congregation. A lot of folks from Ebeneezer Baptist, the boy's home church, also came. As did many of their neighbors and members of his extended family. People from Ebenezer Baptist even volunteered to make desserts, some of which they sold at the dinner, and some outside, on the corner, while encouraging passers-by to stop in the church and have some pot pie - an invitation which, in that area of the country, is hard to refuse.

All-in-all, they raised almost two thousand dollars from the dinner, which was matched by Thrivent, and all of it went to the family to help with their expenses. And when Pastor Shulz mentioned it from the pulpit on Sunday, the people all clapped in approval. It was a good day - pot pie for the stomach and soul, dessert, fellowship, service, love, friends, family, help for a boy, sharing of tears and new friendships. Gifts that carried on well after Saturday, offered up with the clapping of hands as a sweet sacrifice on Sunday, and as good will and lasting friendships for a long time to come, I'm sure.

In the Gospel, it says that Mary's gift of costly perfume, lavishly spent on the feet of Jesus, filled the whole house with its fragrance. On Sunday morning, and for long afterward, Our Redeemer was filled with a fragrance, too - and it wasn't just the fragrance of pot pie. It was the fragrance of an offering given to God in the name of one of his children; a gift that kept on giving and giving and giving, many times over, like the fishes and loaves, like holy communion - a gift full of something greater than it appears to be, a gift filled with God's own presence.

And that's what's happening over at Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, where Pastor Shulz presides, a little congregation not too far from here that doesn't seem like much in the eyes of the world, but which is ever so precious in the eyes of God.