Between Sundays
“I was hungry and you gave me food … I was a stranger and you welcomed me … I was sick and you took care of me.”
~ Matthew 25:35-36
Many of you know that I spent part of my childhood in Germany. One of the villages we lived in was a little place called Dahn, and Dahn had castles. Four of them, in fact. On one side of the village, a ridge holds what are called the Three Castles of Dahn, carved from red sandstone and dating all the way back to the 12th and 13th centuries. On the other side of town stands Neudahn, which means “New Dahn,” a 13th-century castle ruin tucked into the Palatinate Forest, known for the artillery towers added to it back in the 1500s. I always loved that little detail. The “new” castle had already been standing for hundreds of years before Columbus ever set sail.
I found myself thinking about those castles this week, because we marked something remarkable, the 250th birthday of the Declaration of Independence. Two hundred and fifty years since a group of people put their names to the radical idea that all of us are created equal and endowed with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is a birthday worth celebrating. And yet, when you have played in the shadow of a castle that was ancient long before this country was even a dream, 250 years starts to feel downright young. That is what I mean when I say we are a young nation. Still growing. Still learning. Still reaching for the promise written on that page. So in the quiet after the fireworks, I found myself sitting with a question that has less to do with what is wrong out there and more to do with what is mine to do. What can I do, as part of this still young nation, to help make it better?
Not someone else’s job. Not the government’s alone. Not a problem for the next generation to inherit. Mine. Ours.
Wherever you stand, whatever side of the aisle you call home, I think that question belongs to all of us. Because I believe, with my whole self, that we all want what is good. Good for our nation. Good for our community. Good for our families, and yes, good for our church. Our opinions on how to get there may differ, sometimes greatly, but I have never doubted that the people of this congregation share that same deep longing for a kinder, more just, more whole world.
It is worth remembering that the founders did not finish the work either. They wrote that all are created equal while the reality around them fell painfully short of those very words. That gap between the promise and the practice has been handed down ever since, from one generation to the next, and every generation has been given the same holy assignment, to close it a little more than the one before. Now it is our turn. That is what it means to belong to a nation still young. The work is not done, and it is ours to take up.
And we all know this world can feel heavy right now. We do not have to look far to find people who are hurting. Neighbors who feel unseen. Families carrying burdens far too large to bear alone. It would be easy to grow discouraged, to decide the problems are simply too big for any one of us to touch. But I do not believe that, and I do not think you do either. I think we were made for exactly this, to be the hands and feet of Christ, right here, right now.
So I keep coming back to that question. What can I do today?
The good news is that the answer is closer than we think. A couple of beautiful opportunities have crossed my desk this month, and I want to share them, because I want you to know how much power you actually have to make a difference.
First, this coming week we have the chance to help feed the 70 students and 30 staff members of Centro Hispanico of Frederick. And this is about so much more than a meal. It is about telling our neighbors, with our actions and not just our words, that they are seen, that they are cared for, and that the churches of this community stand alongside them. Jesus was clear about this. When we welcome the stranger, we welcome him.
Second, alongside our partner churches here in Frederick, we have the chance to wipe out 15 million dollars of medical debt for 15,000 of our neighbors right here in Frederick County. And here is the part that still takes my breath away. It takes only 103,000 dollars to do it. Every single dollar we give erases far more than a dollar of debt, which means a gift that feels small in our hands becomes something enormous in someone else’s life. I have learned something walking with people in need. More often than you would guess, it is medical debt that quietly buries a family, the thing standing between them and their rent, their groceries, their peace of mind. Our goal is to reach it by October 31st, and in November, every person whose debt we help lift will receive a letter telling them it has been paid, and naming the churches that made it possible. Imagine opening that letter. Better yet, imagine being part of the reason someone does. To lift that weight is to hand a neighbor back their future. It is holy work, and together we can do it. This will be a collaborative effort shared by many area churches and I will share details in how you can help soon!
And if you are looking for one more way to help, this month’s Love Offering will support families in need for the new school year. We are collecting school supplies for students in need and if you would rather someone else shop you can give monetarily too. This is so that every child in our community can walk into the new school year ready to learn and thrive.
This is not about adding one more obligation to your already full life. It is about hope. It is about taking the very best of what we celebrated this week, the belief that every single person is created equal and worthy of dignity, and refusing to let it stay on a page from 1776. We get to live it. We get to feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, care for the sick, and lift up the child. That is the whole of the Gospel, right here in our own zip code.
Two hundred and fifty years in, the work is still ours, and I cannot think of better work to give ourselves to. Jesus told us that whatever we do for the least of these, we do for him.
I think about those castles in Dahn sometimes, how they have stood for eight hundred years, quiet and unchanging, watching the centuries pass. A castle is built to keep the world out. But a young nation, and a young faith, are built to let the world in, to keep growing, to keep reaching, to keep answering the question of what more love requires of us. We are not a ruin to be admired from a distance. We are a living, unfinished thing, and that is the gift of being young. There is still so much good ahead of us to do.
So let’s go and do some good. The world is waiting, and so is our God.
Until Sunday, and all the days between,
Dr. Hutton