Hooray for the Pumpkin Pie!

Joel 2:21-26 Matthew 6:26-33

November 21, 2021

Emmanuel Baptist Church; Rev. Kathy Donley

Note: A recording of the worship service in which this sermon was preached may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vd54X87VznY

“The locust invasion started seven days ago and covered the sky. Today it took the locust clouds two hours to pass over the city. God protect us from the three plagues: war, locusts, and disease, for they are spreading through the country. Pity the poor.”[1] That was recorded in the diary of a soldier stationed in Jerusalem in 1915.

He was describing the worst infestation of locusts in recent history. As the locusts approached, the sun was darkened. The locusts were so numerous that they were killed by the ton without any appreciable effect. In April of that year, the government issued a proclamation requiring every man between 15 and 60 years of age to gather 11 pounds of locust eggs every single day and deliver them to government officials for destruction. One eyewitness of this plague said “nothing we did prevented the locusts from coming down and devouring everything green, even the bark of trees, in a matter of minutes.” That widespread devastation, with the destruction of crops and the blockades of WWI led to three years of famine and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people.

We might imagine that the prophet Joel is describing something similar when he alludes to the years that the locust has eaten. It is difficult to determine whether Joel is talking about a literal insect infestation or if he using locusts as a metaphor for an invading army. Given the historical experience I just described in 1915, he could be talking about both. In any case, the context of this passage is severe destruction and loss, something widespread, something that lasted for quite some time, because verse 21 says “years” in the plural.

“Do not fear. . . Rejoice, be glad.” That’s the prophet’s message from God. “The rain is coming. The threshing-floors shall be full of grain, the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.”

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten. . .” Many years ago, there was time when my friend quoted that last verse several times a year. When I read it in preparation for this sermon, I thought to myself, “That’s Mary’s verse.” I called to ask her what it meant to her, why she used to quote it so much. She couldn’t tell me. She didn’t remember. I suspect that different passages resonate with us at different times. I wonder if at that time she was going through something difficult and she was clinging to the assurance that there would be healing, that God would restore her joy. But now, decades later, her need for that assurance is not so urgent.

That is just speculation on my part. But I’m thinking about it because the prophet says “do not fear.” That’s easier to say when the fearful thing is over, than when we’re in the midst of it.

Jesus did a similar thing. When he sat down and taught in Matthew 6, his audience was mostly the poor. People who earned enough to eat today, but who might not work tomorrow and therefore, might not eat tomorrow. And people who might not eat today. And yet, Jesus told them not to worry about food and clothing.

Most of us do not worry about food or clothing. Some of us have more than others, but almost all of us get enough to eat. If hunger is an actual concern for you, please, please be in touch with me. That is something we can address. Most of us do not worry about food. But we do worry. Most of us carry around a bundle of worry – worry about the coronavirus or cancer, about the widening gap between rich and poor in our country, about democracy, about the planet. Some of our bundles includes concern for a struggling marriage, or a loved one with addiction or our own loneliness. We carry this bundle of worry around all the time and it starts to feel like something we cannot escape, something we cannot put down. It becomes chronic.

I was very fortunate that Wayne Oates was one of my teachers. He was professor of psychiatry at the University of Louisville School of Medicine and also taught at my seminary. His work was foundational to the field which is now known as pastoral care. He is the person who coined the term “workaholic.”

One particular lecture has stuck with me. It’s one in which he talked about how to manage chronic pain. He said that if you live with chronic pain or if you care for someone who does, you have to create coping strategies. One strategy is distraction or interruption. In this strategy, you take breaks, to give yourself opportunities to shift your focus from your pain and from whatever you have to do to manage your condition. In some way, you change your routine, your location or whatever is receiving your primary attention. The second strategy I remember is sharing it. Do not bear it alone, but tell someone about it. Even if you are not the one in pain, but the primary caregiver for someone who is, share the load. Just talk to someone who will listen. Ask for help as necessary.

And so, today I’m thinking about worry as a kind of chronic pain. Pain grabs our attention and holds it in a certain place. So does worry. Chronic pain is something that does not go away, that cannot be resolved entirely, but must be managed. So it is with the bundles of worry that we carry around.

I’m thinking that when Jesus says “do not worry”, we may want to obey him, but we don’t know how. Some of us cannot turn off the worry response any more than we can turn off a pain response. So, with gratitude to Dr. Oates, I think about the strategy of interruption.

Jesus says “do not worry” and I wonder if we can hear that as “give yourself an hour off”. I know, I know, you don’t think you can quit worrying cold turkey. But what if you just set down your worry bundle for an hour? It will still be there when you need to pick it up again. And maybe you can practice setting it down for two hours next time and work yourself up to more hours of life spent not worrying than worrying.

But begin with interruption. Begin by setting down your worry bundle and forcing your thoughts to focus on something else. This is where gratitude and wonder come in. Imagine putting down your worry bundle and picking up your wonder bundle.

Like many of you, I went apple-picking this fall. I did not grow up in this area. The abundance and beauty of the orchards is still new and astounding to me every single time. I am intrigued and delighted by the range of colors apples come in. I marvel at the load of fruit that each small tree can hold. Every year, I have to decide where to pick and then which varieties to choose.

The people who write the descriptions of apples must be related to those who review wine. For example, the Fortune variety is “A spritely apple with a slightly spicy flavor.”

“Honey & pear flavors mixed with a dash of lemon, almond, and a smooth hint of fine-grained cane sugar,” – that was Golden Russet, of course. The experts agree that it pairs well with walnuts and cheese.

So, I went to the orchard. In the center of a row with trees picked bare on each end, I found the treasure of Ruby Frost. This apple looks so enticing that I think it must have been the kind that the queen gave to Snow White.

Three rows over, I discovered a delicious and beautiful red, orange and yellow apple. It is called Cordera. Looking it up, I learned that it is the Spanish word for lamb and it was named for the Lamb family. Robert Lamb, who died in 1997, worked with apples at Cornell for 40 years. His wife Susan is an Ag professor there and their daughter Betsy works in integrated pest management. I have never met them, but I am grateful, for the literal fruit of their labors.

And you know what? While I was wandering through the orchards and deciding which kinds of apples to pick and how many I had room to store at home, I was not worrying. I was engaged in wonder and gratitude. And now, every time I eat one of those apples I picked that day, I remember and am grateful.

The two scripture passages we read today, from Joel 2 and Matthew 6 are assigned to Thanksgiving, and yet, neither of them mentions gratitude. They do say not to worry, not to be afraid, and to rejoice. Other preachers might see other connections, but the one that I see is that gratitude is an antidote to worry and fear. Focusing our attention on what we are grateful for is one good way to distract ourselves from an endless focus on worry. Set down your worry bundle for a while and pick up the wonder bundle. It’s much lighter. The worry bundle will still be there if you need to pick it up later.

“Over the river and through the wood to Grandfather’s house we go”

You know that line. It’s the beginning of a poem written by Lydia Maria Child in the nineteenth century.[2] She wrote it about Thanksgiving, although sometimes it gets associated with Christmas. It is from a child’s point of view, about the fun of riding in the horse-drawn sleigh and being welcomed home by grandparents. Even in the celebration, the child recognizes that everything might not go well, that life is bumpy even on holidays. The fifth stanza says

Over the river, and through the wood —
No matter for winds that blow;
Or if we get
The sleigh upset,
Into a bank of snow . . .

But ultimately, the poem ends this way

Hooray for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hooray for the pumpkin pie!

“O taste and see that the Lord is good,” the psalmist wrote. “It is good to give thanks to the Lord.”

It is good to give thanks for pumpkin pie, and any other kind of pie, and 100 varieties of apples and shady trees and starry skies and faithful friends and a good night’s sleep.

Friends, let gratitude be your spiritual practice this week. Put down your worry bundle and pick up wonder as often as possible. If you need it, then reach for the mantra from Joel “I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten.”

Or reach for the other one, which is also theologically sound, “Hooray for the pumpkin pie.”

Thanks be to God. Amen.

[1] https://www.palestine-studies.org/sites/default/files/jq-articles/JQ_56-57_The_1915_Locust_0.pdf

[2] https://womenyoushouldknow.net/traveling-over-river-through-wood-thanksgiving-lydia-maria-child/