Thief!

           Anyone who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work, doing something useful with their own hands, that they may have something to share with those in need. (Ephesians 4:28)

          This is an odd thing to say. Paul had lived among the Ephesians for a time, but I’m not sure that makes it any less odd. Discussions of anger make sense, because everyone struggles with anger. Advice about relationships, ditto. But raising the issue of stealing seems sort of like asking, “Are you still beating your wife?” Timothy was the pastor at Ephesus at one point. Did he, or whoever was the pastor, report the theft? Did someone else?

          Or was Paul dealing with an Ephesian cultural issue. When Paul was in Ephesus, one of the complaints of the Ephesian metal-workers was that Paul was threatening their business, effectively stealing food from their children’s mouths. Was he warning against something that would give substance to baseless accusations?

          Or, was Paul writing, as he seemed to have to write to other groups, in response to freeloaders who wanted to exploit the generosity of the Church?

          I don’t know, but there it is, “anyone who has been stealing must steel no longer, but must work…” Regardless of who, what, when, where, why, and how people were taking what wasn’t theirs, Paul’s answer was simple and direct: S.T.O.P. But he goes beyond “stop.” Those who had been stealing were to work, not to meet their own needs, but to meet the needs of those around them.

          It’s not enough to take care of yourself and your family. Our goal is to be able to give to those in need. This wasn’t a new idea. Hospitality and generosity were commanded characteristics of the Jews. In fact, Jews were even instructed to be less than efficient in the harvesting of their crops, so that the needy could collect what was missed.

          Some time ago, the idea of gleaning was repackaged and reintroduced to me. A company president asked what the poor could glean from his carpentry business. His answer was “sawdust.” He made arrangements with a paper mill, got a truck, and allowed some poor folks to collect the sawdust, transport it to the paper mill, and keep the money they made from the sale of the sawdust     

          I don’t have money that I can give away. I don’t even seem to have something that folks could glean. But I take walks, and while I’m walking I can pick up trash and pray. It doesn’t seem like much, not nearly enough, but it not only allows me to do good for someone else, but it reminds me that even though I can’t do much, I can do something.